Chapter 36
Declan, Present
They load him into the back of one of the cop cars and drive away. I stand catatonic in the middle of the road, barefoot and watching the tail lights disappear as it turns out of our neighborhood.
In its place, the bright lights of the ambulance round the corner and make their way down the street.
I somehow manage to take a few steps out of the way as they park and immediately jump out with a gurney, walking briskly to where Carter slumps against his car. His chest moves quickly as he tries to catch his breath while they sit in front of him, unpacking their bags and assessing his condition.
I don’t think I’m in control of my body right now.
I keep moving, pulling out my phone and doing something with it, but I don’t even know what.
My brain can’t comprehend anything that’s happening.
It only knows how to replay the way Javi’s entire body stiffened and fell to the ground.
How he still managed to whisper to me “I’m okay.
I’m okay,” as they hauled him up and handcuffed his hands behind his back.
“Declan? Declan!” There’s a faint voice. Barely audible, but growing in strength each time it says my name. “Declan!”
I blink a few times, the image of Javi’s tired eyes looking at me through the window of the cop car evaporating and Landon’s taking their place.
“Huh? What?” I say quietly.
“What’s going on?” he asks, concern etched into every part of his face.
“They took him. They took Javi,” I offer weakly.
“Who did?” the gruff voice of Grant interjects, opening up my line of vision to see his figure standing beside Landon.
“The cops. They-they arrested him.”
“What? Why? What happened, Dec?” Landon asks, gently placing his hands down on my shoulders.
“He… attacked Carter.”
Landon’s face shifts, confusion drawing it down. “Carter? Who the hell is that?”
Grant touches his forearm and tips his chin up toward the back of the ambulance where Carter now sits, being treated by one of the EMTs. “He was a senior last year. On the football team.”
Landon eyes Carter. “Why would he do that?” he asks distractedly, sliding his eyes around the rest of the scene, over the broken glass, the discarded baseball bat, the mangled metal wrapped around the formally sleek car.
My mouth freezes up, the words bouncing on my tongue but unable to come out.
I try to force it. “He—Well, Carter—” My voice halts each time I try to say it.
“Last year, he—”
My lip quivers uncontrollably as I try to look at Landon’s face, so worried about what I can’t say. His expression is too much, so I look away, chancing a glance in Grant’s direction.
What’s there is worse. Grant has always given me shit about what happened last year with Carter. Just like everyone else did.
But now, there’s something different about how he’s looking at me. There’s a kinship there. Some dark tether we suddenly share. An understanding.
“You don’t have to say it,” Grant murmurs. “You don’t owe that to anyone.”
Landon turns his head toward Grant, a puzzled look on his face, but soon it smooths out, his brows rising in surprise and then quickly crumpling into sadness as he looks back at me.
I swallow and take a big breath, trying to look brave. “Last year… he-he raped me.”
Despite aiming for strength, my voice breaks on the last word. It sets off an avalanche. I fall to my knees. Right there in the middle of the road.
Landon follows me down, wrapping his arms around me, hugging me to him while I sob.
“Dec. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into my hair.
I shake my head and let myself cry. For Javi. For me. For that night which I had locked away for so long. For this realization hitting me at a moment where I can’t deal with it. All the contents spilling out onto the road with us.
“We have to go get him. Bail him out,” I say around all my cries.
I’m vaguely aware of a set of headlights shining across us briefly before disappearing as Landon says, “Of course. We’ll go right now. Grant will drive us.”
“Boys?”
We all whip around, meeting the face of Javier’s mom, Natalia, hesitantly walking toward us. Scott stands back in their driveway, darkly staring at all of us as he leans against the car they must have just parked.
Her eyes roam over us. Then at Carter’s fucked up car. Then the ambulance. Her face becoming more alarmed with each new image. “Where’s Javier?”
Fresh tears roll down my soaked face, but none of us speak.
Her face collapses. “Where’s Javier?!” she repeats, yelling now. “Is he okay? Grant?!” She focuses her attention on him.
“He’s been arrested,” he says.
“What?” she shrieks, grabbing onto her head. “?Puneta! What happened?”
Grant opens his mouth to answer, but she holds up her hand, cutting him off before he starts. “Actually, it doesn’t matter right now. I’ll let him tell me. Where can I go get him?”
“We were just going to go. You can ride with us.”
She nods, and without any further discussion, we all start heading toward Grant’s car, until Scott steps in front of us, staring at Natalia. “You’re not going to fucking get him.”
She stares intently back at him. “Scott—”
“No. Fuck no. Whatever he did, he deserves to sit in there. He’s been out of control. He needs to fucking learn.”
“You don’t even know what happened,” I blurt.
It draws his eye to me, but he ultimately ignores me to look back at his wife. “You’re not bailing him out. He’ll sit in that cell and then he can find somewhere else to stay when he’s out. He needs a reality check.”
She raises her head at him, speaking with a slight tremble to her voice. “I am going to get my son. You can be upset later.”
“I’ll leave you with nothing.”
“Then leave,” she quips back. “I don’t know what happened. But I know my son. There’s more to the story. And I am going to get him.”
“With what fucking money? Not mine.”
“Mine,” Grant says nonchalantly.
Scott’s eyes flick at Grant. “And who the fuck are you?”
“Grant Caldwell,” he answers smoothly. Recognition lights across Scott’s face as Grant says his last name.
He stays quiet, a bewildered look on his face as he searches for something to say.
“I’m going, Scott,” Natalia says, turning to walk away as we all follow her.
But apparently, Scott decides he’s going to have one last act of desperation, because his hand darts out, grabbing onto her and yanking her back toward him. “You’re not going.”
Landon and Grant move quickly, taking a few steps closer. “Get your hands off her, bro,” Landon growls in his direction.
“I’m not your fucking bro,” Scott snarls back. “She’s my wife. Don’t interfere with grown shit when you’re just a boy.”
Grant moves toward him, but Natalia holds up her hand, silently asking him to pause. “Scott,” she says calmly. “I am going to get him. Let me go.”
He stares back at her a moment, nothing but rage clouding his features.
Something solidifies in his mind because he abruptly starts pulling her back toward the house. She loses her balance, stumbling over her feet until her knees hit the concrete. But Scott doesn’t stop moving, now dragging her on the street.
Chaos erupts. Landon and Grant rush in while I climb on Scott’s back like a monkey. All of us yelling at him to stop—hitting any part of him we can.
“Hey!”
A booming voice breaks through the noise, causing us all to freeze and look in the direction it came from.
Nancy approaches us, clad in her bathrobe and flannel pajama set, gray hair pinned up in curlers and a shotgun positioned under her arm, pointed at Scott.
“All of you get off of him,” she mutters angrily.
Landon, Grant and I listen, scrambling away while he still grips Natalia’s arm from the ground. Nancy takes a couple more steps until she’s a few feet away from him. “Let the woman go, you old bastard.”
Scott stands there stunned. Unable to speak or move as he stares down the barrel of her shotgun.
Nancy scoffs and shakes her head, cocking the shotgun—the sound echoes against the silence. “What did I just say?” she asks him irritatedly.
“I’d listen to her,” Harold shouts from the front door, arms folded over his tank top. “She’s a damn good shot and she gets pissed as hell when she’s woken up at night.”
Scott drops Natalia’s arm.
“That’s good,” Nancy mutters sarcastically. “Now, in the house you go.”
Scott doesn’t move, still baffled by the interaction with Nancy. The person he thought was just the sweet older lady next door.
She tries again, taking a step closer and using the muzzle of the rifle to nudge him along. He trips a bit but ultimately starts trudging toward the front door.
“There you are. Go on inside,” she says in a voice like she’s gently talking to a dog.
He shuts the front door, and I breathe a sigh of relief before blurting, “Where the hell did you get that thing?!” My eyes run up and down the gun. It has a long tarnished barrel with intricate scrollwork and a smooth wooden handle.
She lowers the weapon. “This old thing? My father gave it to me back when we had a farm.” She looks down at the gun, reverently running her hand over it. “I don’t even think it works anymore. But I knew it would scare Scott. He’s just a little man-child deep down.”
She points the gun at some dirt on the ground and pulls the trigger. The gun clicks. “See? It’s not even loaded.”
“I’m awake for an unloaded gun?! What a crock of shit,” Harold mumbles from the door, readjusting his position.
I run toward Nancy, pulling her into a huge hug.
Harold pipes up again. “Just so you know, it was my idea to get the gun! I just can’t shoot for shit.”
“You hush!” she shouts back at him as she caresses my hair.
After a few moments, she pulls back from me, looking me in my eyes with such warmth and love as she hands me a pair of my shoes. “Put these on and go get your boy,” she whispers before kissing me on the forehead. “We’ll be waiting for you both inside.”
I smile as tears fill my eyes yet again. “Thank you.”
She nods and starts walking back to Harold’s lingering figure in the front door.
I turn back to Javi’s rescue crew. All of them smiling at me despite the traumatizing shit that has unfolded tonight.
“Let’s go,” I say.
I throw on my shoes and we all walk to Grant’s car, but I take one last look toward the ambulance. Carter still sits there, an icepack pressed against his head.
Something takes over me and I veer away from my group, marching toward the ambulance.
Shock and worry enter Carter’s expression as I step up to him.
There’s a slight tremble circulating all my limbs as I work up the courage to open my mouth.
“You put something in my drink,” I say.
He looks at me for a long moment. “No, you—”
“It wasn’t a question,” I interrupt. “I didn’t want you. I told you that. But you just…” My brain scrambles to find how to say everything swirling around in my head. “You took me anyway.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“You raped me. Drugged me and raped me.”
A tiny smile tips up on his lips. “This is so sad. You wish that’s what happened. It might make you feel better. But you were just horny for me. That’s what happened. I could’ve had anyone I wanted that night. You should be honored.”
My eyes widen and I give him a disbelieving laugh. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
He stares back at me, no shred of guilt or understanding in his eyes.
I spin away from him and walk to Grant’s car, climbing in the backseat where Landon waits—Natalia and Grant in the front.
I’m not really sure what I was thinking. Maybe that he’d admit it. That he would feel bad. That I’d see some type of remorse in his eyes and it would heal this new part of my psyche that’s been wounded. But he didn’t care. He knows what he did. And still didn’t care.
Grant drives away and no one says anything for a while, until Landon leans close, whispering, “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“What do you need?”
“Javi.”