Chapter 32 #2
“He’s hurting Momma,” I whisper into the line, afraid he’ll hear me because I can hear them. The breaking glass woke me up, and they were fighting again. I grabbed the phone out of the hallway when I heard Momma scream. “Please, help her. I think Dad’s going to kill her this time.”
“Can you tell me your address?” her steady voice asks, and I say it slowly, making sure to get everything right. “We’ll have officers there in two minutes. Can you tell me your name?”
I close my eyes tightly, hearing Momma cry out as I start to cry. “Jack. My name is Jack.”
“Okay, Jack, can you tell me if your dad has a weapon?”
“He has a gun.”
Everything unfolds quickly. From around the corner, I watch Dad point the gun at Momma, the policemen telling him to drop it, Dad getting handcuffed. Momma runs for me, and he stares at me from where the cops have him pinned to the floor, finally spotting me from my hiding place.
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Jack! You’re going to be just like me,” he yells as Momma pulls me into her shaking body, hiding me from view.
“Thank you. You did so good, my boy. I love you so much,” she whispers in my ear, kissing the side of my head.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” I ask, shoving against Coop, who’s still trying to hold me back. “Let me go,” I say, shaking.
“I can’t, Jack. I can’t.”
How does Bradley know? The list of people who know here is so small I can count on one hand here. It’s a public record in Texas, but the amount of work required to find the information is more than I thought anyone would try, especially without a reason to look.
“Cooper, get your fucking hands off me,” I yell, shoving my best friend back from me as he watches me with sympathy I’ve never wanted.
A slamming door echoes through the rink, and I see Coach jogging down the steps a moment later. “Hey! What the hell is going on?”
Coop backs out of my way, and I inhale ragged breaths. I need to get out of here.
I tear across the ice, memories I’ve tried so hard to suppress threatening to break past the wall I’ve hidden them behind.
I walk off, quickly unlacing my skates, fully intent on ignoring Coach standing next to me, waiting for answers I don’t have.
If I talk to him right now, I’m going to shatter the boundary in my mind separating him from my coach and Al’s dad.
“Schultz, I’m talking to you,” Coach says, and I look up at him, seething from the uncontrollable anger consuming me.
“What?” I snap, struggling to keep myself under control.
If I’ve surprised him, Coach doesn’t show it on his face. “Jack, what happened?”
I tug a hand through my hair as Coop skates over, holding my stick and gloves in one hand. “Coach, it’s fine—” Coop starts to say while I slip on my shoes, taking the opportunity to get away from here.
I drop my things in my stall, snagging my truck keys to drive back to the house, trying to ignore the pounding in my head begging to be let out. Dylan’s watching the recap from our game last weekend on the couch when I storm through the door, turning to look at me.
“Shit, you scared me. I thought you were meeting Coop at the rink?”
I ignore Dylan, making a beeline up the stairs to my room.
Bradley thinks I’m like him. I would never hurt Al. I wouldn’t ever hit a woman because I’m not like him or my dad.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dylan calls after me, and I close my eyes, bracing my hands behind my head, seeing flashes of the worst night of my life.
I’m nothing like them.
Bradley is a sick fuck who got off on hurting Al. My Alondra, who is kind, feisty, and the best part of my day.
“Just forget it,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. I might actually vomit.
He fucking smiled after saying he’d hurt her during sex and . . . I don’t know.
I shut the door in Dylan’s face, needing to be alone with my thoughts.
Have I taken things too far with Al before in the heat of the moment, and not even realized it?
Taking a seat on the edge of my bed, I replay every moment with Alondra, no matter how insignificant I might have thought it was. Just because it was insignificant to me, doesn’t mean it was for her.
Would she have told me if I was too rough?
The door opens, and I look up through blurry vision, ready to tell Dylan to get the fuck out when I see Al standing there.
I don’t know how, but I’m so damn glad to have her in front of me, there’s zero hesitation as I take three quick steps to close the distance between us.
“Jack,” she says my name, and I bury my face in her curls, inhaling the scent of strawberries.
The tension leaves my body in an instant, and her arms tighten around me.
“You’re nothing like him,” she whispers, and a sob catches in my throat.
She’s okay. My girl is okay, and she’s here with me.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m so sorry.”
“Listen to me, you are nothing like him. You’re warm, and sweet, and you make me feel like a version of myself I thought was gone. He is a terrible, shitty person who can’t let go. Don’t apologize. You have done nothing wrong.”
“Darlin’, it kills me to know he—” I choke up, cutting myself off because I cannot say the words out loud.
She rubs my back, offering her silent reassurance, and I cling to Al, letting her guide me toward the bed.
Alondra pulls back after we’re seated, wiping at my cheeks to force me to look at her. “Jack, I can’t erase my history with Bradley, no matter how much I might want to, but please don’t focus on this,” she says, watching me closely.
“Did he hurt you during sex?” I force the words out, feeling my stomach churn.
Tears glisten in her eyes, and she nods, cracking my chest wide open to absorb all of the pain the beautiful girl in front of me has been through more than she should’ve had to. I don’t even realize I’m crying until my vision blurs the image of her, and Al is quick to wipe them away.
“You give me a choice in everything. I want to erase every terrible memory with him, and I want to replace them with you,” she says, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I can do that. I can be the person she rewrites her story with, while I learn how to believe in happily-ever-afters.
“Promise me you’ll always tell me if you want to stop,” I beg, my voice a low rasp.
She nods, blinking back her tears. “Only if you promise to never compare yourself to Bradley again.”
I press my lips to hers, tasting the saltiness of my tears in the process, because even if I don’t believe in love, I do believe in Alondra.