Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
L ily
My steps are light as I trot down the sidewalk. The sun dips below the horizon, draping the ocean in a breathtaking mix of pink and gold. A warm blanket of peace wraps around my heart. I haven’t been this optimistic in months.
I’m making progress. I slept six hours last night—the longest I have in months, and it’s all thanks to Ethan and his rigid sleep rituals.
He’s been texting me daily, asking for me to recount the night before. Then he gives me a new ritual to try—like turning my phone off an hour before bed—with the commanding certainty of a doctor writing a prescription. It never fails to make me smile. He’s such a stickler, and I never found it endearing until recently.
Whoever thought this would happen with Ethan of all people? I thought for sure his type-A energy would stress me out, but then again, I never expected him to be so sweet and self-deprecating. He actually makes me laugh. When I’m in his presence, I feel like the old me—the real me—instead of this stress ball with the constantly buzzing anxiety.
I’m actually looking forward to our check-in session this evening.
“Why haven’t you texted me back?”
The voice slices through the air, making my whole body grow taut. I squeeze the strap of my messenger bag as I turn around, and there stands Mason under the flickering streetlight with that all-too-familiar scowl.
I’m at the front of the sorority house, which means he must have been waiting for me. Lurking.
“I’ve texted you a hundred times,” he says, his jaw tight. “I don’t understand why you’re ignoring me.
Really, you disgusting slug? You raped me.
Why does even the thought of the word “rape” make me want to wince? It wasn’t my fault. I know this, and yet that doesn’t stifle the burning shame in my chest that tries to claw its way up my throat.
I should have known better. I never should have gotten drunk and put myself under his power. Now, I’m suffering the consequences. I’ve become a ghost of my former self.
The worst part is he insists he never raped me, and he’s here to berate me once again. To make me promise I’ll never tell anyone.
As if I ever would. No one would believe me if I did. I’ve learned enough from my research about how difficult rape is to prove, especially when the rapist is someone close to you. Someone you’ve already had sex with.
I take a deep breath. “I haven’t responded to any of your texts in months. Why do you care now?”
His dark eyes narrow. “Noah’s been weird with me lately. I feel like he knows something.”
Rage flares suddenly, like dry leaves catching fire. “What do you think he knows, Mason?” I raise my chin. “If nothing happened, there’s nothing to tell, right?”
His expression grows hesitant for a moment, but then he takes a step in my direction. I flinch, and he must see it, because his eyes flash. “You’d better not have told anyone what you think happened. My whole football career could be over.”
A chill runs down my spine. This is exactly how he acted the morning after he raped me. I told him the story, giving him the benefit of the doubt since he was so mindlessly drunk and maybe didn’t remember. I could see in his eyes that he did remember, but he scoffed the whole thing off. Said I wasn’t clear that I didn’t want sex.
Except I told him to stop. Over and over again. I told him, and he only gripped my arms tighter.
Telling him the story from my point of view only enraged him. He hovered over me as he told me I could ruin his life if I kept saying what I was saying. He used his size to intimidate me, and his gall left me breathless. What about my life? And how did he not see the irony of being so violently committed to his innocence?
My smile feels like a sneer. “I don’t give a shit about your football career, or should I say your non-existent chances of making it to the NFL.”
His body grows utterly still, and his eyes grow almost wild. He didn’t like that. Why did I say it? Why am I taunting a man who’s prone to violence?
I inhale an unsteady breath. “I just want you to go away. We don’t need to talk about this anymore. You don’t have to worry about my ‘crying rape’, as you called it, so?—”
He lunges toward me, wrapping his fingers around my wrists with a bruising force. A scream rips from my throat, raw and instinctual. I try to wrench away, but he squeezes my wrists tighter.
The world around me blurs as if I’m sinking underwater. I try to retreat into that foggy, dim recess of my mind where his touch can’t reach me. Just like I did that night.
It only works for a moment. His hot breath against my forehead pulls me into the present world, to where my heart is fluttering like a bird .
“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers through clenched teeth. “Did you not notice we’re in public? You’re ‘crying rape’ right the fuck now.”
Crying rape. It’s like the words alone will summon a firing squad, when the truth is that no one cares what happens to a college girl who put herself in danger in a haze of drunkenness.
His grip on my wrists sends a slice of pain up my arms, but I refuse to cower. I raise my chin to look him in the eyes. “If you’re so worried about your public image, maybe you should stop assaulting me.”
His nostrils flare. “I’m not assaulting you.”
I try to pull back, but his grip on my wrists only tightens.
“What the fuck are you doing, Mason?”
Ethan’s voice booms from behind me, and relief washes through my veins. For the first time, I’m grateful that he apparently watches me like a hawk from his window.
Mason’s head snaps up, his eyes filling with fear. He lets go of my wrists and takes several steps back. “We were just talking,” he says, lifting both hands in the air.
A moment later, Ethan’s huge form steps into my vision, stalking toward Mason. He stops inches away from his body, hovering over him like Mason did to me a moment ago. “Why the fuck were you grabbing her?” Ethan clips out.
“I didn’t…” Mason flinches, and my fading panic must be making me hysterical, because I want to laugh. How is he planning to talk himself out of this one? Stern commander Ethan isn’t going to let him get away with laying his hands on a woman.
Mason licks his lip. “I wasn’t grabbing her that hard. Please don’t tell… Noah wouldn’t understand.”
Ethan laughs caustically. “Yeah, I don’t think he would understand. In fact, he might even tell Coach Rodriguez and get you suspended. Assuming I don’t get to him first.”
Mason’s eyes flash. “You wouldn’t do that. You need me.”
Ethan snorts. “You’re barely an upgrade from any of our backup quarterbacks. I think the team would do just fine without you.”
Ooh, Mason doesn’t like that. He takes a step toward Ethan, nearly grazing his chest.
Ethan widens his stance. God, he looks like a giant. Mason might be tall, but he’s nowhere near as muscular as Ethan. Mason seems to feel the difference between them, because he takes a step back.
I wish it didn’t delight me. Ethan doesn’t need to save me. I could have kneed Mason in the balls.
Why didn’t I? Somehow when he grabbed me, all the fear from that night flooded back into my body.
Goddamn it, when will I finally be over this?
Mason shuts his eyes. “Please don’t say anything. To anyone.”
Ethan huffs. “You think I’m going to lie to protect you, needle dick? After what I just saw, I’m tempted to break your fucking nose.”
Mason’s eyes grow huge, and an almost hysterical giggle bubbles from my chest. I shouldn’t be laughing. I need to intervene soon if Ethan is serious about his threat. But I can’t get over the fact that I just heard Ethan Harrington utter the words “needle dick.”
“You could get kicked off the team for that.” Mason’s chest is puffed out as he stares up at Ethan, but he can’t hide his fear. Even from several feet away, I see how his body trembles.
Ethan shrugs. “Nah. I don’t think I would. I think if I told Coach you assaulted Noah’s little sister, he’d thank me for punching you in the face.”
When Ethan takes another step in Mason’s direction, I snap into action. I march forward and grab his shoulder. The tension in his body vibrates under my hand. He jerks around to look at me, looking almost startled by my presence.
“Don’t hit him.” My voice is firm. “He’s not worth it.”
Ethan’s face falls. “Lily, I saw what he did?—”
“You’re right. You saw it. But it happened to me. Don’t try to fight my battles for me.”
He shuts his eyes. “He’s my teammate. I can’t let him get away with this.”
“But I’m not your teammate, and this is my business. I don’t want you giving him any more fuel. He’ll come back here and harass me again. Thank God none of my sisters saw what he did.”
When footsteps pound on the sidewalk, both Ethan and I jerk our heads toward Mason. I want to laugh when I see he’s practically jogging in the opposite direction.
“Fucking coward,” Ethan mutters before raising his voice to say, “This isn’t over, Mason.”
Mason doesn’t even turn his head.
“This is over,” I say. “Let me deal with Mason.”
Ethan turns to me, his eyes narrowing on his face. “Why would you care if your sorority sisters saw? I wish they did. They need to know what he’s like so they can protect you from him when I’m not here.” He shakes his head, his eyes growing unfocused. “I can’t believe he grabbed you like that. I knew he was a dick but I never thought he’d—” His gaze snaps to my face. “Has he done something like this before?”
I open my mouth, but the words don’t come.
Why can’t I just admit that Mason’s been violent before? I don’t have to go into detail about the rape.
Yet even a vague explanation might make me cry, and holy fuck, I don’t want to cry. The rape has wreaked enough havoc on my emotions, and Mason doesn’t deserve my tears.
“Look.” I raise my hands. “I don’t want to go into detail, but suffice it to say that I’ve seen his temper before, and I don’t trust?—”
“Holy shit.” Ethan’s huge eyes are fixed on my wrists. He steps forward and grabs my arm. He rubs his thumb over the red welts on my skin. “Oh my God,” he whispers.
With the utmost gentleness, he grabs my other wrist and lifts it up to examine it. When he’s done, he shuts his eyes tightly, his breathing rapid. “I’m going to kill him.” His voice is quiet.
Chilling.
“No, you’re not,” I grit out. “I just want Mason to go away and leave me alone.”
And not just in real life. I want him to leave my head as well. I want to finally accept that I can’t change what happened and move on with my life. I want to become the fun, free, wild Lily again.
Except this version of wild Lily won’t trust men so easily.
“He hurt you.” Ethan’s jaw is so tight it looks like it might snap in two. “He can’t get away with it. I won’t allow it.”
“It’s not up to you what’s allowed. This is my life, and I don’t want any more trouble. Just think of what could happen if we tell people Mason grabbed me. You only threatened to punch him, but Noah doesn’t have nearly as much self-control as you do. He might actually do it.”
Ethan’s mouth drops open. “Are you implying that we’re not even going to tell Noah?”
“Of course not. He has to live with Mason.”
“The fuck he does! He’d move out of that apartment in a second if he knew Mason hurt you. And I wasn’t only talking about telling Noah. I think you need to go to the police, and I’ll come with you. I was a witness.”
Panic grips my chest. “Absolutely not. Are you not hearing me? I want to forget about this. I want to forget about Mason.”
If we went to the police, eventually the whole campus would find out. Every football player on the Hawks is famous at Mission Hills. I’d be under the inspection of thousands of people. Everyone would be picking apart what really happened and pointing fingers at who they think is really to blame for Mason’s assault charge. What if they decide a random girl who no one’s heard of isn’t worth losing their quarterback mid-season? What if they decide to blame me instead?
The thought makes me want to dry heave.
“Lily, this is a big deal. He put welts on your wrists. Why are you brushing this off?”
“I’m not brushing it off. I’m asking you to stop making it all about you.”
His eyes grow pained. He looks like he wants to press me further, but then he takes a step back. “Alright, fine. I promise not to do anything right now, but—” his expression grows stern “—you and I are going to have a talk later.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
He sighs. “Come inside the frat house. I’ll get some ice packs for your wrists.”
“They really don’t hurt that much.”
He scowls. “If you don’t want me to go to the cops right the fuck now, you need to come inside and let me put some ice on your goddamn wrists. That’s the deal I’m offering you. Take it or leave it.”
My lips quirk. “I know you’re a Christian who swears, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you do it this much, big guy.”
His lips twist into a half smile. “Yeah? I’m fucking pissed off. Can you fucking tell?”
I snort. “Yes.”
He raises both brows. “And the reason your damn wrists don’t hurt is because of the goddamn adrenaline pumping through your veins. I know this, because I’ve sustained a lot of minor injuries during games. You need ice to make the swelling go down. Can you accept my goddamn expertise on this?”
“Yes,” I say, smiling. “I’ll let you get your goddamn fucking ice packs.”
He smiles, and gratitude blooms in my chest. It warms me from the inside out, snuffing out the last vestiges of fear. Why did I never appreciate Ethan’s protectiveness before now? He’s like a warrior, fierce and steadfast.
It’s hot, and it was never hot before. It always seemed presumptuous and condescending. But this new scared Lily could use a protector. At least until she can get over this debilitating anxiety.