Chapter 28
MAYA
It starts with a name, something I've kept locked away for months, something I never wanted to say out loud again.
We're in Jackson's room, me lying against his chest while he scrolls through something on his phone. Emma and Chase took Ethan to the park for the day, which means we've got the house to ourselves for a few hours.
"Maya," Jackson says quietly. "What was his name?"
I don't have to ask who he means. "Why?"
"Just... I want to know."
I've never told him, never said the name out loud to anyone except the police, the hospital staff, Dr. Mills. Even thinking it makes my skin crawl.
"Dr. Richard Carson," I say. The words taste like poison.
Jackson goes still beneath me, his whole body tensing. His jaw clenches, muscle jumping. "He still works at Pinewood?"
"As far as I know."
"That's fucked."
"That's reality."
Jackson's quiet for a long moment. I can feel the tension radiating off him, controlled but barely, like a wire pulled too tight.
"Jackson?" I sit up to look at him. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing. Just... It's not right. What they did to you."
"I know. But there's nothing I can do about it."
"There should be." His voice is hard, cold in a way I've rarely heard. "There should be consequences."
"There aren't. That's how it works. Rich white doctor with connections versus expendable nurse with trauma? He wins every time."
Jackson pulls me back against his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that happened to you."
"I know."
But something's shifted in him. I can feel it in the way he's holding me—tighter, more protective—like he's trying to shield me from something I can't see.
For the rest of the day, I catch him staring into space, distracted and distant. His phone keeps buzzing, and he checks it with a frown, then tucks it away without explanation.
"Everything okay?" I ask, after he's checked his phone for the fifth time.
"Yeah. Just team stuff."
"What kind of team stuff?"
"Nothing important. Don't worry about it."
But I am worried because Jackson doesn't lie to me, not about the important things.
Three days later, he comes upstairs while I'm folding laundry in the living room. Emma's at a playdate with Ethan, and Chase is out running errands.
"I've got a team meeting," he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. "Won't be home until late."
I frown. "On a Sunday? That's weird."
"Coach called it. Playoff strategy session before the first game." He kisses my forehead and heads for the door. "I'll text when I'm heading back."
He leaves before I can ask questions.
But something feels wrong, the way he wouldn't quite meet my eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the rushed quality to his movements, like he needed to leave before I could see through him.
I wait thirty minutes, then text him.
Me
Is everything okay?
No response.
Me
Jackson?
Nothing.
An hour passes, then two. I try calling, and it goes straight to voicemail. My stomach starts to twist with anxiety, that familiar feeling of something being very wrong settling over me like a weight.
I call again. And again. It goes to voicemail every time.
Chase comes home around three, arms full of grocery bags. Four hours have passed since Jackson left. "Hey, can you help me with these?"
I grab a few, but my mind is elsewhere. "Did Jackson mention a team meeting to you?"
"What meeting?"
"He said Coach called a playoff strategy session and left about four hours ago."
Chase frowns, setting the bags on the counter and pulling out his phone.
"That's weird. I haven't heard anything about it.
" He taps something, waits. "Yeah, there's nothing on the team calendar.
And Jenkins just posted an Instagram story from lunch with his family, so the whole team's definitely not at a meeting. "
The floor tilts under me. "So he lied."
Chase studies my face, concern creeping into his expression. "Maya, what's going on?"
"I don't know, but something's wrong. He's been weird for a few days, and now he's lying about where he is, and he's not answering his phone..."
My phone buzzes. It's an unknown number.
I answer immediately. "Hello?"
"Is this Maya Rivera?" A woman's voice, official and clipped.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is Officer Monroe with the Pinewood Police Department. We have Jackson Anderson in custody. He listed you as an emergency contact."
The room spins. "What?"
"Mr. Anderson was arrested approximately thirty minutes ago for assault. He's being processed now. If you want to see him, you'll need to come to the Pinewood station."
"Assault? Who did he..." But I already know the answer. "Dr. Carson. He went after Dr. Carson."
"I can't discuss details over the phone. If you want to see Mr. Anderson, the station address is—"
I'm already grabbing my keys. "I know where it is. I'll be there in about two hours."
When I hang up, Chase is staring at me.
"Jackson's been arrested," I say, my voice sounds distant even to my own ears. "In Pinewood. For assault."
"What the fuck?" Chase is on his feet. "I'm coming with you."
"You don't have to—"
"Maya." He grabs his own keys. "I'm not letting you drive to Pinewood alone when you're this upset. Let's go."
We're in his car within minutes, and I'm shaking so badly I can barely get my seatbelt on. Chase pulls out of the driveway, and I know I have to tell him, have to explain before we get there.
"Chase, I need to tell you something."
"Okay."
"Three months before I came here, I was raped.
" The words come out flat, emotionless. "At Pinewood Memorial.
By my supervisor, Dr. Richard Carson. I reported him, gave HR everything: the rape kit, security footage, witness statements.
They investigated for two weeks, then fired me for 'budget cuts' while he kept his job. "
Chase nearly swerves off the road. "What?"
"Jackson found out months ago, and he's been helping me, taking me to therapy, helping me heal. And a few days ago, I told him Carson's name." My voice cracks. "He's been weird since then, and now he's gone to Pinewood and assaulted him. That's why he's been arrested."
"Jesus fucking Christ." Chase grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. "Does Emma know?"
"Not about the rape."
"Fuck." He pulls over quickly, grabbing his phone and typing one-handed. "I'm texting her that we're going to Pinewood, that I'll explain everything later. I don't want her freaking out while she's pregnant."
"Thank you."
He finishes the text and pulls back onto the road.
We drive in tense silence, Chase processing what I just told him, me trying not to fall apart.
"Jackson loves you," he says finally. "I've known for a while. The way he looks at you, the way he is around you. And now this. He went after the man who hurt you."
"He could go to jail, Chase. He could lose everything because of me."
"Because he loves you. There's a difference."
Two hours later, we’re here. Pinewood police station is exactly as I remember from when I came here to file my rape report. Sterile, cold, fluorescent lights that make everything look washed out and wrong.
Officer Monroe meets us at the front desk. She's in her forties, dark hair pulled back, expression neutral.
"Ms. Rivera. Mr. Anderson's lawyer is here. You can see him once processing is complete."
"What happened?"
"Mr. Anderson assaulted Dr. Richard Carson at Pinewood Memorial Hospital. Several witnesses, security footage. Dr. Carson is being treated for his injuries now."
"How bad?"
"Broken nose, fractured orbital bone, possible concussion. Could've been worse if security hadn't pulled Mr. Anderson off him."
I sink into one of the plastic chairs lining the wall. Chase sits beside me, hand on my shoulder.
Jackson beat him, actually beat him, put him in the hospital.
For me. Because I told him what Carson did.
"Can I see him?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Once he's processed. Probably another hour."
So I wait, because that's all I can do. Chase, though, steps outside to call Emma and explain that her brother has been arrested. He won't mention the rape; that's something I need to do.
I still can't believe that Jackson did this, threw away everything for me, and I have no idea if I should be grateful or furious or terrified of what comes next.
All I know is that the man I love is sitting in a cell somewhere in this building because he couldn't stand the thought of my rapist walking free, and that's either the most romantic or the most reckless thing anyone has ever done for me.
Maybe it's both.