Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
L ily
I’m pulled against a hard chest, held so tightly that breathing becomes a struggle. Yet the sobs come anyway, relentless and unstoppable. They crash over me like waves against the shore. Inevitable. It’s as though by holding them back, I’ve been defying the natural order of things.
A heavy sense of relief settles over me as the tears flow freely, so profound that it’s almost dizzying. The weight that has been pressing down on my chest for so long has finally given way.
The world around me is sharper, more vivid, and at least in this moment, I’m the old Lily.
I’m so grateful for this man who holds me in his arms and lets me cry without judgment. He hasn’t spoken since that first tear fell, like my crying is the most normal thing in the world. He doesn’t even know what Mason did.
His steadiness and integrity—qualities I once dismissed as boring—fill me with an overwhelming sense of safety. In his presence, I have no fear, which allows me to confront the shadows of my past.
Is this wrong? I shouldn’t need him to cope with my trauma. The only person I should need is myself.
Oh well. For now, I’ll take his comfort.
“Lily.” Ethan’s voice shakes.
I twist my head to rest my cheek against his chest. His shirt is now damp from my tears. “Thank you,” I whisper.
His warm lips brush against my head. “I won’t push you to talk, but…not knowing what Mason did is making me crazy.”
When I look up at him, his face is strained, the muscles taut. The pain in his eyes is so palpable I could reach out and touch it.
He’s holding it all in, just for me, and it sends a pang to my chest.
“I’m here for you,” he says, his voice thick, “whether you want to tell me or not. But watching you in pain, seeing you go through this alone…” His lips quiver. “It’s killing me.”
“I want to tell you,” I say, surprised by my own admission. “I think I’m ready. I never… For some reason, I didn’t want to tell anyone until now.”
It’s strange now that I think about it. What was I so afraid of?
I never really knew. I was just running. Running so fast I never had the chance to look deep inside and learn my own heart.
He tightens his hold on me, his fingers tracing circles on my back. “Then tell me. Let me share this burden with you.”
My heart grows quiet, and a deep, comforting warmth settles over my body.
I could fall in love with this man if I allow myself.
Even though I embrace my own chaos, I’m also hungry for his dependability. He’s like a missing piece in my heart, the one I didn’t even know I was searching for.
“I can’t tell you now,” I say. “My class is in twenty minutes.”
“Fuck class. We’re both skipping. This is too big of a deal. We’re going home.”
Home. I love the word on his lips. As if that bedroom we’ve shared for the past few days is ours alone. A haven, just for the two of us.
This deep connection between us may only be temporary—it may only last while I’m staying at his place—but I’ll take it. Somehow, I don’t feel weak accepting his help.
Maybe it’s okay to need other people, to lean on them when the burden becomes too heavy to bear alone. After crying in Ethan’s arms, I’m finally able to breathe again. It’s not just about surviving anymore. Maybe I can finally start living again.
I’m nestled in the corner of the couch as Ethan moves around the table at the edge of his room. The electric kettle clicks on, and its soft hum fills the silence between us.
“Who’d you steal the kettle from?”
His face is grim. Poor guy has been vibrating with tension since our walk home from campus.
“I bought it last night,” he says. “For your chamomile tea. The old one in our kitchen is grimy and nasty.”
This man is so thoughtful. How is it that just weeks ago I still thought he was a high-handed prick who judges me for my messiness?
Ethan’s movements are jerky as he steeps the teabag, which is at odds with his athletic grace. I can’t help but smile.
“Let me do that. You’re anxious, big guy. I guess I can’t blame you after my crying fit.”
He frowns as he hands me the teacup. “I wish you didn’t minimize what you’re going through. And don’t worry about me, damn it. I’ll be just fine. I’m worried about you.”
His words make my chest grow tight. When tears start welling behind my eyes, I take a deep breath through my nose.
No more crying. It’s time to confront reality head-on, to embrace the emotions I’ve long suppressed.
I take a sip of the tea, the taste somehow bland and bitter at the same time. “Ethan, I don’t even like chamomile tea. This isn’t bedtime, so I’m not sure why you made it for me.”
He sits down on the couch beside me, his expression growing grave. “I’m sorry. When I’m feeling this…wound up, I have to take action, and I guess I was trying to help you relax. I’m losing my mind right now. Are you ready to talk to me?
My chest squeezes tightly. I don’t want him to be so anxious. It’s difficult to see.
“Yes,” I say.
Time for the truth, no matter how little I want to face it.
I can do this. If crying was a relief, telling the whole ugly story might be too.
When I open my lips, a wave of cold, sick shame washes over me suddenly. Where does this feeling come from? It’s completely irrational. It wasn’t my fault that Mason raped me.
“About six months ago,” I say. “Mason and I were out at the bars. I was on the verge of breaking up with him. He was becoming sort of…pushy. He wanted things his way, especially when it came to…” I swallow. “Sex.”
Ethan shuts his eyes tightly, looking so anguished I want to reach out and touch him.
It’s going to be hard for him to hear the ugly details—as protective as he is of me—but I can’t think about that.
What happened to me was ugly, and I had to live through it. His discomfort in hearing it is nothing compared to what I endured. I deserve to speak my truth.
“Anyway.” I tug at a loose thread on the seam of my jeans. “I let him walk me home, even though I was over his shit. When we got to my sorority house, he wanted to come inside. He was insistent on it, acting like I owed it to him after he walked me home.”
Ethan grunts. When I lift my gaze to his face, his jaw is clenched. “What a fucking dirtbag.”
I smile sadly. Mason’s behavior must be incomprehensible to Ethan. In his eyes, walking a girl home at night is simply the right thing to do. But Mason’s sense of entitlement isn’t unusual. Over the years, I’ve met many men who believe they deserve access to me for the bare minimum of kindness.
Normally, I’d tell men like that to go to hell. But that night, I was so damn tired and drunk. I just didn’t think.
“Anyway, I let him come inside.” I shut my eyes when shame wells in my chest. “I even let him sleep in my bed. But I did make it clear that I didn’t want to be touched.”
“But he touched you anyway.” Ethan’s words are delivered through clenched teeth.
“Yes.” My voice is just above a whisper. “Within seconds of getting into bed, he was on top of me, grinding into me and pulling up my dress. I kept telling him to stop.” My throat is so strained that it’s difficult to get the words out. “He didn’t.”
Ethan leaps off the couch and starts pacing the floor, his hands clenching into fists. “Oh fuck, Lily.” He shakes his head, looking dazed. “I’m going to make him pay.”
He means it. I can hear it in his voice, and though his strong reaction is somewhat soothing, it doesn’t stop irritation from flaring over my skin.
“No, big guy.” I try to keep my voice soft. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t make this about you. It’s my place to make Mason pay, and I’ve already done my research. Rape is really hard to prove if you were already in a sexual relationship with the person. It’s basically your word against theirs.”
Twin strips of pink burnish Ethan’s cheeks. “Maybe, but using the law isn’t the only way to make sure he faces consequences. Mason cares about football more than anything. I know if Coach Rodriguez heard this, Mason would be off the team.”
“I can’t believe you of all people would suggest that. Noah told me you’ll get drafted if you finish this season strong. I don’t know much about football, but even my ignorant ass knows a quarterback is important.”
He scowls. “It makes me crazy that you think I’d put my football career over you. Mason can’t get away with what he did. Who gives a fuck about football?”
The idea that Ethan would put me before his football career, a future he’s worked so hard for, makes my heart squeeze in my chest. But then again, it’s probably just his principles guiding him. His devotion to do what’s right at all costs.
“You know Mason would deny it,” I say. “Loudly, too. He’d blast me on social media. And he’s well-known on campus. If I got him kicked off the team, I’d probably be harassed by all the misogynistic gym rats who worship the Hawks.”
Ethan stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s not as well-known as I am. Or as well-liked.”
I frown. “So?”
“So you’d have my full support. I’ll even go on social media to call him out, and I have my own eyes to back me up.” His jaw clenches. “I saw him grab you.”
There’s a buzzing sound in my ears. He suggested this once before, but I didn’t take him seriously. But that was before I was willing to confront my pain. I wanted to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there.
Should I come forward? I’ve barely considered it until now, but everything Ethan has said is reasonable. He’s the star of the whole school. It wouldn’t be my word over Mason’s, but mine and Ethan’s.
It would be exhilarating to make that bastard suffer for what he so readily dismissed months ago and has continued to taunt me about. I’d love to see his downfall, but then again…
Everyone on campus would know about what happened to me. It would become a label branded to my forehead—the girl who was raped. With Ethan’s national attention, the whole incident could become a public scandal. It might even follow me for the rest of my life.
I can’t allow that. I’m not the girl who was raped. I’m Lily Greenwood, the girl who was once fun and carefree, and I’m going to reclaim her. No matter what it takes.
“No,” I say firmly.
Ethan’s eyes shut, and he drops his head forward. “Lily.”
My nostrils flare. “Don’t ‘Lily’ me. I’ve already been through enough. Shouldn’t I be able to deal with this on my own terms?” I run my fingers through my hair and grip hard, sending tingles into my scalp. “I hate everything about what happened. I want it all to go away.”
When Ethan opens his eyes, they’re full of pain. “I don’t think it works like that. I think…” He inhales a shaky breath. “I hate even saying this, but I think this might always be a part of you.”
An icy hand clamps around my heart. No, I won’t allow that. I’ve heard the clichés about trauma becoming a part of who you are.
This pain—this fear—it won’t claim me.
“But it doesn’t mean you’ll always be traumatized by it,” Ethan says. “In some ways, it’ll make you more resilient.”
Resilient. What an Ethan word to use. As if everything in life is just an opportunity for self-improvement. As if pain and fear can simply be repurposed into another step toward some ideal version of myself.
This is how perfectionists cope. They have to turn every wound into a lesson, to believe that suffering can be transformed into strength. Otherwise, it’s just suffering.
I take no comfort in lessons, in building strength. What does any of it matter if there’s no joy?
“Lily…” Ethan’s rough voice pulls me out of my head. “I need to tell you something. It’s something I think you already know, but I’m afraid… I can’t end this conversation without telling you on the off chance that some part of you hasn’t accepted it.”
I frown. “What?”
He slips down to his knees in front of me, taking both my hands in his. His eyes burn into mine. “No part of what happened was your fault. Not dating Mason in the first place or letting him come inside that night. Not getting into bed with him or being too small to fight him off. None of it.”
His words wash over me like a tropical rain, and the vestiges of shame and regret fall away.
In theory, I knew that none of it was my fault, but I couldn’t fight the nagging fear and regret of being an accomplice in my own assault. If only I hadn’t been so drunk… If only I hadn’t let him come inside…
Ethan is right. No part of what Mason did is my fault. Getting too drunk wasn’t a request to be raped.
Tears prick my eyes. “Thank you.”
Ethan gathers me into his arms and pulls me onto his lap. His warmth seeps into all my cold places. We sit this way for who knows how long. Time seems to slow.
“I want to take you out tonight,” he says a while later, his arms still wrapped around me. “We’ll go when I get back from practice. Anywhere you want.”
A dreamy smile spreads across my face. “Sounds wonderful.”