24. Tenuous Calm
24
Tenuous Calm
Will and Cora stayed in Indiana as long as they could, but they could only put their lives in California on hold for so long. Cora was in her third trimester, and Will was falling behind in his classes. As much as I wanted them to remain here with me, they had to leave.
After several long talks with our lawyer, Will signed the house over to me completely. With Cora approaching her due date, we decided it would be easier if only my signature was needed to close the sale of the house. Uncle Rick was appointed as my Power of Attorney as a precaution should the house sell after I left for college.
It was all very formal and complicated, and honestly, gave me a headache. But I had been thrust into the world of adulting and responsibility, and I couldn’t hide from it. It was time to nut up or shut up.
The last Saturday of April, I stood on the porch, Ben at my back, as I watched Will load suitcases and boxes of their belongings into the back of their rental car. Ben’s chin rested on my shoulder, his hands gripping my hips loosely as the setting sun warmed my face.
We’d done our goodbye hugs on the porch, so I simply waved as Cora buckled herself in on the passenger side. Will slammed the trunk shut, then put his hands on his hips. Our gazes met, and I lifted a hand in a small wave.
“Let me know when you get home safe,” I said.
Will nodded. “I will. Remember to set the alarm when you’re home alone, especially at night.”
“I will.”
“And call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“Uncle Rick is close by and—”
“I’m gonna be fine, Will,” I reminded him, and he huffed before bounding back up the porch steps to haul me into one last embrace.
“I love you,” he said as he clapped my back.
“I love you too,” I said.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Okay,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “You too.”
We parted, and Will shot Ben a grudging smile. Then he reached out and shook Ben’s hand. “Keep an eye on him for me?”
“I’ll keep two,” Ben said, and Will scoffed.
“All right. I’m gonna go before things get mushy.”
Ben and I chuckled as Will descended the steps. He stopped by the driver’s door and raised his hand for one last wave. Then he climbed behind the wheel, backed out of the driveway, and honked as he and Cora disappeared down the street. I waved until they turned the corner and drove out of sight.
Leaning back against Ben, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. He kissed the side of my head and wrapped his arms around me. “You okay?” His breath whispered over my cheek, and I nodded.
“Just weird. Like, I live alone now. It’s kinda scary.”
“I’ll stay with you every night if you want,” he promised, and my heart swelled with affection.
“Or you can move in with me. I’ll empty a drawer in my dresser for you. Make it official.” I smiled as he kissed the spot beneath my ear.
“Careful, Brigs. You know I’m weak for you when you start talking sweet.”
I laughed fully. “Why do you think I’m talking sweet? I happen to like making you weak, Adams.”
With a laugh, Ben pecked my temple and pulled me back into the house. “Shall we make good use of the empty house?”
I followed with a devilish smirk. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I let Ben guide me into a sexy shower, where he sucked me off until I came down his throat. Then he fucked into me nice and slow, his breath hot and wet against the back of my neck. And when he wrapped himself around me as we lay in my bed afterward, I cradled him against me and relished the quasi-normalcy of it all.
Life wasn’t normal yet. It wouldn’t be for a long time, but I didn’t feel like I was drowning. Not all the time, at least. I wasn’t stuck treading water in a furious sea hell-bent on dragging me under. I could breathe. And it was enough.
As May brought the warmth of spring, I settled into a new routine. Ben stayed over at my house during the week. Weekends were usually spent at his. If I was ever home alone, I’d set the security alarm. I slept better at night that way.
I volunteered to man the sound booth for the final choir performance of the year, and Ben signed up to help with a week-long, after-school swim camp for middle schoolers. Our realtor showed the house during school hours, but there hadn’t been any offers yet.
Will called almost every day until I told him to calm down and stop calling me so often. He lessened his check-ins to every other day, and I didn’t have the heart to put up a fight about it. Uncle Rick stopped by sometimes to see how I was holding up. Sadie brought meals, and Lily would do Ben’s makeup.
I, of course, took lots of pictures.
At school, things were as normal as they could be. I still took my cane, but it spent most of its time in my locker. My limp was noticeable at times, especially by the end of the day when my leg was tired, but even that started to fade.
Slowly but surely, I was healing.
As I took my seat in the sound booth for the choir’s rehearsal before their concert, I realized with jarring clarity that this would be one of the last times I’d sit in this seat and do this job. Tomorrow, the choir would perform. I’d shut down the lights and turn off the mics. Then I’d leave, and I wouldn’t come back.
This sound booth had been my escape for almost four years. I’d played puppet master up here, high above the student body who’d judged and bullied me. And now it was nearly over.
I would be graduating next month, off to college a few months later. Everything had changed and would continue to change. My brother was going to be a father. Our father was buried in the ground. I had endured Hell and survived, walking out the other side hand-in-hand with my best friend and love of my life.
This school. This past year. All the shit I’d trudged through, dragging Ben with me. It was almost done.
It hadn’t all been bad. If nothing else, it had led me to Ben. And no matter how hard the last year had been, I didn’t think I wanted to change it. Not if it meant Ben remained forever a stranger to me.
Well, I’d bring my dad back. I could relive the rest, but I didn’t want to survive that loss again.
So, no, this place hadn’t been all bad, but I was happy my time here was drawing to a close. Just a few more weeks. I’d never been more ready for a fresh start.
Amber plopped down into the chair beside me, jarring me from my thoughts, and I sent her a small smile.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” she said flatly.
“I heard the musical went well.”
She side-eyed me as her inky hair fell like a curtain between us. “Yeah, it was okay.” Her gaze fell to my cane as I propped it against the table. “How are you feeling?”
“Um, okay. I still have days when my hip stiffens up, but it’s a lot better now.” I opened my notepad and set it between us so we could take notes as the choir rehearsal began. “I was thinking that you could take the lead on this, like we’d planned with the musical, and I’ll just be here to help and supervise. Since you’ll be doing this on your own next year.”
She shrugged and slid the notepad closer to her. “Sure.”
“I have a—” I offered her my pen, my hand almost touching hers, and she jerked away from me. The notepad fell to the floor as she glared at my hand like it was a snake about to strike.
Slowly, I set the pen down and drew my hand away. “Sorry.”
Embarrassed color splotched her cheeks as she bent over and retrieved the fallen notepad.
“It’s fine,” she whispered.
I tried to remember if she’d been this jumpy at the winter dance, but I’d been so wrapped up in Ben at the time, I hadn’t noticed. Plus, my memory wasn’t as trustworthy as it had once been—thank you concussion—so what I could remember wasn’t always accurate.
Before the accident, when I’d been training her for the musical, she’d always kept her distance from me, but I never thought much of it. Now though, I decided to keep my hands to myself, if for no other reason than to help her relax. She was wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.
As the choir rehearsed, I hung back and let Amber take the lead, and slowly but surely, the tension in her shoulders eased. I didn’t crowd her. If I made suggestions or reached for the soundboard, I made sure not to move too quickly. By the time rehearsal was drawing to a close, she seemed more comfortable. She even smiled at me.
Once.
When we’d turned off the stage lights and shut down the soundboard, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed my cane. I texted Ben, and he responded, saying he was almost done changing.
“You got a ride home?” I asked, and she nodded jerkily.
“Mhm.” She tucked her phone into her back pocket. “My brother.”
“Okay.” Stopping at the top of the narrow stairs, I scowled. “Ah, my nemesis. We meet again,” I muttered under my breath.
Amber snorted. “Are you—like, can you—”
“Yes,” I said patiently. “I’m a little slow on stairs, but I’m good. You can go first if you’re in a hurry.”
“No, you’re fine,” she said in a rush. “I’m not in a hurry.”
With a shrug, I grabbed the railing in one hand and my cane in the other and cautiously started my descent. According to my doctor, my hip was healing well, but stairs were always dicey, especially these ones. They were steep and narrow, and after a full day of walking, my leg wasn’t at its strongest.
Thankfully, I made it to the bottom without injuring myself, and I heard Amber sigh in relief behind me. She’d been hovering, standing closer to me than she’d been all afternoon, as if she feared I’d fall.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as we left the auditorium.
“See you.”
Her gaze shifted past my shoulder, and her entire body locked up. Her face paled, and her eyes widened. The back of my neck prickled. I knew before I turned around who would be standing there.
Eric Boyt.
He hadn’t approached. He couldn’t approach, not without violating the restraining order. But even standing in the same hallway as him made my fingers shake.
Dark eyes locked on me, and he ground his teeth but didn’t speak. His hair was longer, almost flopping into his eyes, and he had a shadow of facial hair along his jaw.
Wrestling season had been over for months, but he looked as if he hadn’t stopped training. His biceps were big, his shoulders broad, and I was struck again by how attractive he might have been if he wasn’t a fucking psychopath.
“Where’s Hank?” Amber asked in a wobbly voice, breaking Boyt’s and my stare-off.
He blinked and looked away from me. “Busy. I’m taking you home.”
Jerking his head toward the exit to the east parking lot, he half-turned like he expected her to jump into action and follow him. She remained rooted to the floor beside me. She clutched her purse like one might a lifeline, her fingers digging into the faux-leather like claws.
“He said he’d pick me up,” she said weakly, and Boyt rolled his eyes.
“Well, he can’t. Let’s go, Amber,” he growled the words, and I saw the fear on her face, the resignation in her eyes.
And it was familiar. So fucking familiar.
A faucet dripped.
I smelled cucumber melon.
“I’ll teach you respect.”
But this wasn’t about me. Not this time.
Amber glanced up at me, and something solidified in my chest. Bravery, maybe. Or just determined stupidity. Whatever it was, it helped me find my voice.
“We have to outline our notes and plan for tomorrow. How about you ride with me?” I said, never taking my eyes off her.
“Outline?” she repeated in confusion.
“Yeah. Might as well do it on the drive home. If you need a ride, you can come with me,” I said, praying she could read my mind in this moment.
“She’s got a ride,” Boyt said, taking one step toward her, and I swallowed my fear of him and stepped to the side, shielding her with my body.
“That’s up to her, actually,” I said. “And if you don’t want to violate the restraining order, I suggest you stay where you are.”
My voice didn’t falter or crack; it didn’t even wobble. It was strong, and my head was held high as I faced down his glare.
A sneer curled his lips as his hands fisted, but he stopped his approach. “You some sort of badass now, Brigs? Being a hero now that you have some piece of paper to hide behind?”
“Keep talking,” I said. “Give me a reason to call my lawyer. I beg you.”
His nostrils flared, and the anger vibrating off him was nearly visible. He glared at me, and I tightened my grip on my cane. Just in case.
But he didn’t charge me. He turned his attention to Amber behind me, her head peeking around my arm. “You coming or what?”
“You don’t have to go with him,” I told her quietly, attention trained on Boyt. “You can say no.”
He bared his teeth at me, but he spoke to Amber, “I came all the way out here to pick your ungrateful ass up, and—”
“She didn’t ask you to, and she is not obligated to go with you,” I spoke over his outburst, meeting Amber’s wide-eyed gaze. “You can say no. I won’t let him bully you. I promise.”
Her eyes were wet. I didn’t know when she’d fisted her hand in the back of my shirt, but it might have been the only thing holding her up. She trembled like a leaf as she nodded up at me.
Without looking away, she said, “Silas and I have to outline our notes.”
“Amber.” He spoke her name like a threat.
“Your choice,” I reminded her, and she nodded again, setting her jaw.
“I don’t need a ride, Eric,” she said.
“Fine!” he spat the word like a curse. “This is the last time I do your brother any favors.”
The moment Boyt was out of sight, Amber slumped in relief, her breath escaping in quivering puffs against my shoulder. Strangely enough, she wasn’t the only one shaking. I had to lean on my cane to keep my knees from buckling.
“Holy shit,” I panted, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead. “Fuck.”
“What just…” Leaving her sentence hanging, Amber stumbled away from me like she only now noticed how close we’d been standing. We shared a heavy, terrible moment of eye contact, before she looked away. “Can we go now?”
I nodded, feeling light-headed. “Yeah. Yeah, we can go.”
She stalked past me, head down, and I limped after her, unable to keep up with her pace.
Ben met us halfway, hair still wet, and he barely blinked when I told him we had to take Amber home.
“Sure,” he said, offering her a smile.
She didn’t smile back. She followed behind us as we made our way out to Ben’s Impala. As I chucked my backpack and cane into the backseat, Amber stood on the sidewalk, fingers tightening, then releasing around the strap of her purse.
She eyed us distrustfully, and I didn’t blame her. We were two guys she didn’t know. Just because we were clearly queer didn’t absolve us.
“If you wanna call for another ride, that’s okay,” I said as I leaned on the open passenger door. “We’ll wait here with you until your brother, or whoever, comes.”
Ben had been lowering himself into the driver’s seat but had stopped halfway there, hovering in an awkward hunched over position as his confused gaze ping-ponged between us. Amber stared at me with a stony expression.
“But we’re more than happy to take you home. You can hold my cane, if you want. It’s a good bludgeoning tool.” I mimed bashing someone’s head in, and Ben choked.
Amber’s eye twitched.
After what felt like half a millennia, she finally thawed and stepped off the sidewalk in our direction. Giving me a wide berth, she crawled into the backseat, and I bit back a grin when she curled her hand around my cane.
Ben was giving me a questioning look over the top of his car, but I shook my head minutely, then lowered myself into the passenger seat. He sat behind the wheel and started up the engine. I felt the weight of Amber’s stare on the back of my head.
“Uh, what’s your address,” Ben asked as he pulled up his GPS on his phone.
“I’ll direct you,” she said shortly. “It’s not far.”
Returning his phone to his pocket, he said, “Okay.”
I wasn’t sure how much time we’d have before we got to her house, and I wasn’t even sure if my instincts were right or not. For all I knew, Amber just had good intuition and could sense that Eric was a creep.
But maybe it was more than that. Maybe she knew exactly who Eric Boyt was. The way I did.
A cold sweat broke out over the back of my neck, but I breathed through the fear and shame as I opened my mouth and said, “Eric talked to me. That goes against the restraining order, right?”
Ben nearly swerved the car, shocked at my words. “What?”
“He talked to me. He’s not allowed to do that, right?”
Knuckles whitening around the steering wheel, Ben shot a look at Amber in the backseat, then back at me. I dipped my chin, just once, and his eyes widened.
“You saw him?” he asked.
“Outside the auditorium.”
“And he talked to you? He’s not allowed to do that.”
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat, “I might have talked first.”
Ben glared. “You’re not supposed to do that.”
“I know.”
I could feel Amber hanging on to every word we spoke, but all she said was, “Take a right here.”
Ben took a right.
My fingers trembled, and heat crawled up my throat. I didn’t want to say another word, but that had been my first mistake, hadn’t it? All those months ago, in that bathroom, as Ben held up his phone and told me he’d call the police.
I hadn’t spoken out. Because I’d been afraid, afraid of retaliation, afraid that no one would believe me. Because I’d been ashamed, ashamed that I hadn’t been strong enough to stop him, ashamed that I’d just laid there and taken it. Because I thought I was alone.
But I didn’t think I was alone anymore. Maybe my words wouldn’t make a difference. Maybe I’d just be humiliating myself in front of a practical stranger. But maybe, just maybe, my story would matter, even if it was only to her. Even if it only ensured that she knew—that she fucking knew —that she wasn’t alone.
So I turned my head enough to make it clear I was speaking to her, and I said, “I have a restraining order against him. We can’t prove anything, but I know he was the one who took that picture back at the beginning of the semester. And…”
I swallowed. There was a dull buzzing in my ears. Every breath felt hollow.
“He, uh, he assaulted me. Twice.”
Ben’s muscles were locked so tightly that his whole body was nearly vibrating from the strain. But he didn’t say a word. He stared out the windshield, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.
Amber’s exhale quaked.
“He assaulted me in the boys’ bathroom at school,” I said, though it didn’t sound like me at all. Like I was telling someone else’s story, the words fell stilted and flat from my lips. “Then backstage, after the play. We can’t prove it, but it… it happened. Sometimes, I’m scared that it’ll happen again.
“I should have told the cops that first night, but I didn’t. I ran away. I was scared.” I hung my head, eyes closing.
A faucet leaked.
“I didn’t think anyone would believe me. And people like him, they always get away with it, you know? So I thought I’d just pretend that it didn’t happen. But people like him don’t stop.”
Cucumber melon clogged my throat.
“I should have said something. If not for me, then for the other people he—because there’s always a next time. I regret that. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when I had the chance.”
“Turn left,” she whispered, voice strained.
Ben turned left.
“But we’re building a case now,” I said, turning to look out the window. “It’s not enough, but he needs to know that he can’t just get away with it. He needs to know that, even if we can’t prove it, we’re not gonna let him forget that we know what he did.”
“Turn left,” she said, voice cracking.
Ben turned.
“I was lucky that day in the bathroom. Ben found me.” I turned away from the window, gazing at Ben through blurred vision. “He saved me. But not everyone has that. And I should have thought about that. I should have done something to make sure Eric didn’t hurt anyone else.”
“No,” Ben said softly, taking my hand as he glared out the windshield. “Don’t take that on, Silas. Leave the blame on him where it belongs.”
“I should have spoken up, Ben. Silence is never the answer.”
His expression crumpled, but he didn’t respond.
“It’s the one on the right,” Amber said, and I exhaled heavily as Ben pulled into the driveway of a double-wide trailer.
For the first time since we’d gotten in the car, I turned enough to meet Amber’s stricken gaze. “I don’t know if it would have made a difference for me, if I’d known I wasn’t alone. It probably wouldn’t have mattered. I’d probably have done everything the same. But… I don’t know. Sometimes, knowing you’re not alone is enough.”
I offered her a small, sad smile, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
“What do you want from me?” she said so softly I would have missed it if I hadn’t seen her mouth move.
“Nothing,” I said honestly. “Absolutely nothing. I just thought—” My chest hitched, and I took a shaky breath. “I just thought you should know.”
We stared at each other in silence for a never-ending moment.
Then I said, “Have a good night, Amber. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her eyes were wide and wet, but she nodded. Just once. Then she shoved the car door open and practically sprinted toward the trailer. The front door opened, and Eric’s buddy, Thing Two—Hank?—filled the doorway. He glared at our car as Amber ducked past him and disappeared into the double-wide.
Ben backed out of the driveway, and Hank remained in the doorway until we drove off.
“What the fuck, Silas?” Ben asked the second the trailer was out of sight.
“He was there for her, Ben. Not me.” I blinked the burn from my eyes. “The expression on her face. I couldn’t… I can’t stay silent anymore. What if she’s not the only one? How many has he already hurt? How many will he continue to hurt, Ben?
“As long as he keeps getting away with it, he’ll keep doing it.” I squeezed Ben’s hand hard enough to hurt. “Because he’s popular and handsome. Because his step-dad is on the school board. Because he’s the wrestling golden boy. He’ll keep hurting people. How many more Ambers does there have to be?”
Everyone thought rapists were creepy, homeless men who stalked random women given the opportunity, but they weren’t. They were your best friend’s dad, a cousin, or uncle. A trusted friend of the family. They were your nanny, your youth pastor, or your school counselor. And yeah, a lot of times, they were rich, powerful, charming people who knew they could get away with it.
“He can’t keep doing this,” I said, and Ben nodded.
“I know.”
“But it’s her story to tell, not mine. I can’t push her to do anything.”
“I know.”
My exhale trembled in the air between us. “This all can’t be for nothing.”
And Ben said, “I know.”
Maybe it all would be for nothing. Most people never received justice. What even was justice? No one could turn back time and replace all that had been stolen. From me. From Ben. From Amber, and all those like her. Like us .
All we could do was move forward. And speak out. Because the truth, however quiet, had to mean something.
Ben and I drove home in somber silence, our hands clasped together as we clung to the tenuous calm before the storm. But this time, we would be ready for the wind and the waves. We were tethered with wrought-iron cables, and not even a fucking hurricane was going to tear us apart.