Chapter 13 #2
"You don't have to know Marina. It's okay."
She remains silent for a moment.
"Marina." Sophia's voice is gentle. "Have you talked to anyone about what happened? Back then?"
I stare at the bathroom tile.
"No."
"Not a therapist? A counselor? Anyone?"
"I tried therapy but I wasn’t ready." I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve. "I haven't really talked to anyone about it."
"Marina—"
"I know." I cut her off before she can lecture me. "I know I should have. I know there are professionals who specialize in this kind of thing. I know bottling it up isn't healthy."
"Then why haven't you?"
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Because talking about it makes it real." I press my palm against the cold tile floor. "As long as I don't say the words out loud, I can pretend it was just a bad dream. Something that happened to someone else."
"That's not how trauma works."
"I know that too."
Sophia sighs.
"What about Dante? Have you talked to him about any of it?"
"God, no." I shake my head even though she can't see me. "Dante wasn't exactly at the top of my list of people to have heart-to-hearts with."
"Who was at the top?"
"Nobody." I pause. "Maybe you. But every time I tried to call you, I couldn't get the words out."
"I'm here now."
"I know."
We sit in silence for a moment.
"So let me get this straight," Sophia says. "You've been carrying this around for two years. You haven't talked to a single person about what happened. And now the one man who was there—who sat at your hospital bed for days—is sleeping on your couch, and you still haven't said anything?"
"That about sums it up."
"Marina Reeves." Her voice takes on that familiar tone. The one she used when we were teenagers and I was about to do something stupid. "You are the most stubborn person I have ever met."
"I learned from the best."
"Excuse me?" She sounds offended. "I am not stubborn. I am determined. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes. Stubborn is when you refuse to admit you're wrong. Determined is when you refuse to give up on something important."
"And which one am I?"
"Both." She laughs. "Definitely both."
Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch.
"Remember when we were twelve?" Sophia continues. "And you decided you were going to learn how to skateboard?"
"Oh god."
"You fell off that thing at least fifty times. Scraped your knees so bad your mom threatened to throw the skateboard away."
"She did throw it away."
"And you dug it out of the trash at two in the morning."
I laugh. Actually laugh. The sound surprises me.
"I forgot about that."
"I didn't." Sophia's voice is warm. "You practiced every day for three months. Fell on your face more times than I could count. But by the end of summer, you could do tricks that made the boys jealous."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that you don't give up." She pauses. "Even when it hurts. Even when it's hard. Even when everyone tells you to stop."
I close my eyes.
"This is different."
"Is it?"
"Skateboarding didn't involve a man who could kill me with his bare hands."
"No," Sophia agrees. "But it did involve facing something that scared you. Over and over again. Until it didn't scare you anymore."
I think about that.
About the fear I felt every time I got on that skateboard. The way my heart would race. The way my palms would sweat.
And then I think about Dante.
About the way my heart races when he looks at me. The way my palms sweat when he gets too close.
"You think I should talk to him," I say.
"I think you need answers." Sophia's voice is serious now. "And he's the only one who can give them to you."
"What if I don't like what he says?"
"Then at least you'll know." She pauses. "Isn't that better than wondering?"
I press my hand against my chest.
My heart is still racing.
But underneath the fear, there's something else. Something that feels almost like determination.
"You're right," I say.
"I usually am."
"Don't push it."
She laughs again.
"Go talk to him, Marina. Ask him the questions you've been avoiding for these past days. And if he gives you answers you don't like, you can always kick him out."
"He's injured."
"So kick him out gently."
I snort.
"I love you, Soph."
"I love you too." Her voice softens. "Call me later. Let me know how it goes."
"I will."
I hang up.
For a long moment, I just sit there. Staring at my phone. Staring at the bathroom door.
I push myself up from the floor.
My legs are shaky. My hands are still trembling.
But Sophia is right.
I need answers.
I need to know why he tracked me. Why he showed up at my door instead of going to a hospital. Why he looked at me like that when he thought another man had been in my apartment.
I need to know what I am to him.
And I need to know now.
Because if I wait any longer, I'll lose my nerve. I'll convince myself it doesn't matter. I'll go back to pretending everything is fine.
I can't do that anymore.
I unlock the bathroom door.
My hand pauses on the handle.
Is now or never.
I pull the door open.