36. Libby #2
My chest shudders. “But I do. I do because the producer didn’t believe me when I told him what I’d seen.
And he didn’t believe me when I told him what had been done to me.
According to him, if I’d experienced that, then surely I would have spoken up long ago.
And it’d been years since he’d had the audacity to touch me.
“The older I got, the less the touches occurred. Maybe he was no longer attracted to me, or he worried that I’d realize how sick he was and say something.
Either way, I did my best to forget about it.
To tell myself that I’d imagined it. And I was ashamed.
So ashamed. Like my mind was dirty for thinking it .
I’d even say we were friends until that day.
We attended award shows, arm in arm. How could I explain that I did all of that —spent holidays with him and his family for years—even after he’d done this horrible thing to me? ”
“He groomed you,” Fisher grits out. “You were a child, and he touched you and made you believe it was normal. He is the one who is in the wrong, Libby. Not you. Never you.” He drags me to his chest.
A sob bursts from deep in my chest, surprising me, but I focus on his pounding heart and force the rest of the details out.
How Brad denied it. How Reece acted like nothing happened.
How they created this narrative where I was jealous because the focus of the show was shifting from not just the connection between my character and Brad’s, but to his character’s potential new family.
But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
My character was in college. It was a given that she was the future of the show.
What our audience really wanted to see. There were plans in place for Brad’s character to fall in love and for the show to spin off into a college dramedy of sorts.
I can’t even imagine what that would have been like.
At the time it was just what was next, but looking back, I can see how little say I had in my own life.
And when I demanded Brad answer for what he’d done, they killed off my character.
“I only went quietly because they created a policy that required the presence of a third-party for any extra rehearsals, and minors must be accompanied on set by a parent or guardian.”
Fisher rubs my back in soothing circles. “What did your dad have to say about all of this?”
“I never told him,” I say quietly.
“Libby,” he chides.
Stiffening, I back away. “My father would be devastated. He’d blame himself. He’d—” I blink back tears. “He’d kill Brad.”
“He should,” Fisher grits out. “You shouldn’t have to face this alone. You should never have faced any of this alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I say honestly. “I’ve had you.”
Face crumpling, he hauls me to his chest again. “You have me,” he rumbles in my ear. “You always have me.”
“But what if I get this part?” I sob. “I’ll be in Boston and you’ll—” I pull back and swipe at my cheeks. “Would you come here? With Sutton?”
His eyes dim and his face falls. “Libby, I?—”
I see it. The explanation he’s searching for. He’s trying to let me down gently. It was selfish of me to even ask. Shit. Worst timing ever.
I shake my head and give him a facsimile of a smile. “I can go back and forth. There are ferries,” I say. “Or maybe it’s too soon. I don’t have to do the play. I can stay on the island.”
He shakes his head with fervor. “No. You’re not giving up anything else.”
“You’re the one thing I don’t want to give up.” God, I sound desperate, but it’s true. My career could tank—hell, it already has—and I’d survive. But losing him? Losing Sutton? I can’t do it. I won’t let them go.
“No,” he grinds out, his jaw working back and forth.
I’m scared to death, worried he’s working up the nerve to say we were just a fling. That he’ll push me away and break my heart.
“I can come back and forth too,” he finally says. “I can’t lose you either. If you get the part, I can come out at least once a month. Maybe bring Sutton for a weekend.”
Relief hits me like a freight train, but all I can manage is a simple sentence. “I think she’d like that.”
He looks off toward the window, to the city beyond, maybe.
Boston is lit up, an entire world out there buzzing with excitement while we’re here in our own little bubble.
Trapped within the confines of our own struggles.
I don’t want him to feel trapped with me, and I don’t want to push him beyond his comfort limit when he’s been so careful to work within the lines of mine.
“Let’s not worry about it right now.” I blow out a breath. “Who even knows if I’ll get the part.”
His head snaps back in my direction, like he’s only now realized that he disappeared on me. Tortured brown eyes meet mine. “ Libby .”
I shake my head. I refuse to let our time go to waste. Whether we only have the summer—which I refuse to believe—or not, I want this weekend with him. I want him.
“Please, Fisher.” I press my hand to his heart, taking comfort in its steady beat. My greatest hope is that it beats for me in the same way mine has begun to beat for him.
I don’t know when it happened. Maybe in the moments beneath the stars as he held me while we danced.
Or maybe when he carried me through town after my accident.
Or perhaps when he believed Sutton without question about her unease with Flora.
Or maybe it wasn’t until now. Until he believed me without hesitation, without judgment.
Or maybe it was the culmination of all his thoughtfulness, his care.
Through every act, he’s shown me time and again that he’s someone worth loving.
Even more beautiful than that, though, is how he’s shown me that I am too.
I lean closer. “I need you,” I whisper against his mouth.
With a thoughtful frown, he studies me like he’s trying to determine if I truly want this or if I’m trying to hide behind my words.
I don’t move.
Our breaths tangle together and the air grows charged. I trace the lines of his face with my eyes, waiting for him to realize what I know.
“You’ve got me, Princess.” He angles in and his lips crash into mine.