13. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
I'm tempted to bail on Thirsty Thursday.
I've been a mess, barely able to function at work. I do my best to distract myself with Nick's endless tasks as he attempts to bury me alive as punishment—whether for my attitude or the partners' decision to overlook him, I'm not sure.
Facing Margot seems like a challenge. But I haven't missed a Thirsty Thursday, and if I start today, particularly after what she knows about the weekend, I'm fairly confident she'll appear on my doorstep to perform another welfare check.
I head into the bar after work, putting on my best smile. It's hard to hide the My Life is Going Down in Flames look, but at least I can blame it on work.
Margot beams at me as I approach our usual table, also relieved that I've turned up. I throw myself into the booth, grinning at her like a madwoman in a desperate attempt to seem human.
"Uhm… what the fuck?" she starts, narrowing her eyes at me. "Are you already drunk?"
"What?" I mumble. "Of course not. I've just come from work."
She raises an eyebrow at me. "You're being weird."
"I'm always weird," I answer nervously, flagging down a waiter.
Margot shakes her head, her blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail. "No, you're just being extra strange today. Are you on the verge of a nervous breakdown?"
I laugh—genuinely—because I think I am.
The waiter appears before I can answer and I order a shot of vodka along with a Cosmopolitan. He looks at Margot who quickly orders her usual drink and when he leaves, she rounds on me.
"Hard liquor? Come on… spill."
"It's been a rough week," I sigh, quickly adding, "Nick is an absolute monster. We have a new attorney starting next week and I have to provide support to him. Nick is all jealous—apparently they know each other. Plus Mom and Dad are in Florida so I've been looking after the children."
Margot nods. "The plants do need their love. Sorry to hear about Nick. I hope they are going to be paying you accordingly."
"They are," I respond warmly. "But God knows if it will be worth it. I don't know what the new guy is like but if he's another Nick, no amount of money is going to compensate me for my pain and suffering."
"Do you want me to kick his ass?" Margot asks seriously. "I'll do it."
Laughing, I shake my head. "I can handle him."
"I know you can," she replies softly. "I just hate seeing you stressed. Maybe you need a vacation."
I'm teleported back to the conversation with my parents, but this time, I agree. "It would be nice. I just want to lay on the beach and read a book that doesn't involve old legal cases."
Margot's eyes light up. "We should organize a girls' weekend. We could even invite Sasha and Leah."
Sasha and Leah are our old college friends. We met them in our freshmen year when we discovered they were our dorm neighbors. Unfortunately they live a few hours away now, but occasionally we catch up.
"That would be nice," I sigh blissfully. "Just like the old days."
The waiter appears with our drinks, and I waste no time throwing the shot back. My face twists at the burning taste of vodka, but I quickly wash it down with a sip of the Cosmo.
Margot scans her eyes over the menu, fingers tapping the table. "I'm thinking of a burger today. What about you?"
"I think I forgot to eat lunch today," I answer in a monotone. "So, at this stage, I'll eat anything."
We order some food, making small talk while Margot fills me in about her day. I'm ashamed to admit that I'm barely listening, my mind somewhere else, but when she asks me a question, it snaps me back to reality.
"So, are you staying at your folks' house while they are away? It would save some time and travel."
"No!" I quickly answer, clearing my throat. "I mean, no I'm not."
Margot blinks at me. "Why?" she asks slowly. "I thought you liked house sitting."
"I'm…" I trail off, trying to think of some excuse. "I'm currently rearranging some stuff at home. Plus it's too much of a pain carting my stuff back and forth."
"But you wouldn't be?" she questions suspiciously. "You'd just take the stuff you need for the week in one go."
I freeze, brain frantically searching for a magical answer.
Our food gets placed in front of us but we barely realize, gazes locked. More time passes by and when I finally open my mouth to reply, Margot cuts me off.
"Is this about Hawk and Jett?" she asks firmly.
"Why would it be about them?" I answer quickly.
She shakes her head, leaning back with her arms folded. "You're being really strange, Rayne."
"I'm just tired," I argue but she rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah… work and all. But you've been there for years, overworked countless times and you've never been this fucked up. I think something else is going on."
I stare at her blankly. "Nothing is going on."
Margot relaxes her composure, lowering her voice. "Is this about the party? Did something happen? Did they do something to you?"
"What do you mean do something ?" I shoot back. "Of course not."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize I've put two feet in the grave. Margot's eyebrows shoot up.
"I mean did they do something to hurt you," she says slowly, scanning my face. "You've always told me when they had."
My mouth feels dry, and I grab my drink, taking a sip as I look away. I can't face her at the moment.
"They are just assholes," I mutter into my glass. "You know what they are like."
There's an awkward silence, her gaze burning into my cheek. I know she's connecting the pieces, and I feel dizzy, like I could faint.
"Rayne," she says sternly, forcing me to look back at her. "What happened?"
I want to break down crying. I can't lie to her—I already did and it's been eating me up inside. But… I also don't think I can tell her my secret. It's disgusting, revolting…
One incident I could possibly explain away…
But two?
Tuesday night was terrifying. I've never known or experienced a rollercoaster of emotions before like that. One minute I was terrified, then afraid for my life… then I was inundated with their touches, the feel of them. And slowly, it's broken me. Because I've spent the last two days thinking about it to the point of obsession and madness. I could pretend I hated the night at the key party, but I didn't fight them the other night. No—I gave in, willingly. And when they left me, I had no choice but to face the fact I wanted them to stay.
I'm a broken mess.
Wednesday morning was a blur as I rushed into the drug store, buying Plan B. It was the single most embarrassing moment of my life—not because I was buying it, but because of why.
And now I'm conflicted. Part of me wants to run away and hide, but another part wonders if their words were true. Are they watching? Keeping tabs on me? Does that mean they don't want to hurt me?
Does it mean they don't… hate me?
Margot reaches over the table, grabbing my hand. She squeezes it, bringing me back to reality.
"What happened?" she repeats softly, concern all over her face.
"I can't tell you," I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes.
She frowns, tightening her hold. "You can tell me anything. You're my best friend," she says gently. "I'm really worried about you."
I laugh, tears spilling down my face. "You might not be afterwards. And I can't lose you."
"What are you talking about?" she murmurs. "We made a pact to be best friends forever. I'm not going anywhere."
Finally, I look up. I lock eyes with her, not speaking as I wait for her to come to the conclusion herself. Margot is a smart girl—and she knows me. And part of our friendship is sometimes I don't even have to speak and she knows exactly what I'm saying.
"Oh," she breathes out, stunned. "Oh…"
I pull my hand away, and she falls back into her seat, staring off into space. Our food is still on the table, forgotten, and I watch a range of emotion cross her face—realization, confusion, horror, confusion again.
"Please say something," I whisper desperately. "Anything."
Margot looks at me, eyes wide as the surprise stays on her face. "Really?" she asks, trying to clarify that she's understanding correctly.
I nod briskly. "It's a fucked-up situation."
She grabs her drink, downing the entire contents of her nearly full glass. I wait for her to finish, and when her glass clinks on the table, she lets out a long breath.
"Wow…"
"Do you hate me?" I ask nervously, feeling sick to my stomach.
Margot looks at me, still dumbfounded. "Of course not. I'm just… processing things. I think I have questions."
My body sags in partial relief. "Okay," I mutter. "What do you want to know?"
"Firstly, are you okay?" she asks, a serious expression on her face.
I shrug. "I don't know," I answer honestly. "It's really confronting and confusing."
"I can imagine," she mumbles. "How did this even happen?"
Sheepishly, I shrug again. "Hawk drew my key at the party. I was so blindsided but I didn't want to cause a scene. I had planned to walk away when we were away from the crowd, but he cornered me, then Jett appeared. Next thing I knew we were in the room, fighting."
Margot nods slowly. "I'm kind of following… continue."
"We fought for ages," I admit. "I was so mad at seeing them. And they were just such assholes. But eventually the fighting turned and before I could stop myself, we were having sex."
"Wait," she says, holding up her hand. "What do you mean the fighting turned?"
"It was just… different. I can't explain it. But afterwards, I was so mad. They just left me there and it felt like I had no control."
Margot's face hardens. "Rayne," she starts. "I'm going to ask you a serious question and I need you to be honest. Did they force themselves on you?"
"Not really," I mutter.
She pauses, eyebrows raising. "What do you mean?"
I don't know how to explain it. Hell—I still don't even understand it. "I didn't want it at first, but they didn't force anything. It's like my body just reacted on its own."
"Did they take advantage of you?" she presses again.
"I don't know," I mumble. "Maybe. But not like that. I could have stopped them, but I didn't want to in the moment."
Margot flags down the waiter, ordering more drinks. Turning to me, she frowns. "Are you certain? You don't have to protect them just because they are your foster brothers."
"I know," I tell her. "But it happened again."
She stares at me, startled. "Again?"
I swallow, looking around for the alcohol. "On Tuesday. They turned up at Mom and Dad's house."
Margot's mouth drops, but she quickly closes it, pondering her words. "And that was… more consensual?"
Not being chased by men in masks and having a gun pointed at me…
"It was," I answer weakly. "We still fought, but it was different this time. God, Margot. What's wrong with me?"
I put my head in my hands, looking away. Margot lets out a sigh, and I imagine her shrugging, trying to be the supportive friend she is but struggling to find words.
"Nothing is wrong with you," she finally says. "We all have urges. And you haven't done anything wrong. But are you sure they didn't force you? Stockholm Syndrome or anything?"
I laugh sarcastically, lifting my head. "It wasn't forced. If anything, it's just me being weak. Maybe I need to find a boyfriend. Apparently I don't know how to behave properly when I'm single."
She shakes her head, thanking the waiter as he puts our drinks down.
"I think we're going to need a lot more drinks tonight."