Chapter 19
WESTON
“Let me, please,” I plead when Archer moves to go after Willow, who is now disappearing into the darkness of the beach beyond the fire’s light.
The guy who touched her attempts to go after her too, but Zander plants a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him back despite his effort to shake out of it.
I level both twins with a look I hope conveys my sincerity, a message that I have knowledge they don’t.
I understand Willow’s reaction, and I’m most equipped to help her right now.
I wouldn’t call Archer’s expression trusting, with the way his jaw ticks, and apprehension flashes in his eyes as the light of the bonfire flickers over his face, but he nods.
I stalk into the night, barely able to make out Willow’s silhouette ahead of me as she walks along the beach before stopping and throwing herself down onto the sand.
I jog to catch up to her, coming to a stop and squatting in front of where she sits with her knees pulled to her chest and her head dropped on top of them.
“Wills,” I say softly.
She sniffles, curling in on herself further—hiding from me.
“I can leave if you want me to, but I’d like to sit here with you—if that’s okay.” When she nods, I add, “Can I hold your hand?”
She nods again, and I gently place my palm over her hand on her knee, curling my fingers under hers and squeezing four times. The same gesture she gave me last week.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, sitting down in front of her and crossing my legs. “You’re safe.”
“I don’t know why I reacted like that. I don’t know what happened to me,” she murmurs, the broken sound of her voice clawing at my flesh like the teeth of a rake.
“I think that was the first time you were touched since . . . The first time you were touched without consent or by someone other than your family. Even a casual, innocent embrace like a hug can feel overwhelming, can lead to a trauma response. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She finally lifts her head, and though I can barely make out her features in the darkness, the moon illuminates her face enough for me to note the tears swimming in her eyes.
“That wasn’t . . . that wasn’t him was it?” I ask. “I assume not, I don’t think your parents would’ve let him within a mile of this beach if it were.”
She snorts a wretched laugh, throat full of emotion. “No, that’s not him. Camden is my high-school boyfriend. The hug wasn’t out of line. I’ve hugged him in the years since our breakup, when we’ve seen each other briefly during the holidays or on spring break. We are . . . familiar.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head, tightening my hold on her hand.
“Your body language told him everything he needed to know. It was clear to me. Clear to your cousins. You weren’t comfortable, and he didn’t let go.
You had every right to walk away from an encounter that made you feel unsafe. You don’t owe him anything.”
“Sure.” She nods. “But how fucking broken does that make me? How fucked up am I that I can’t get through an awkward interaction with my ex without a complete fucking break down?
I froze, Weston. I was paralyzed, and I just let him .
. .” She wipes a shaking hand over her cheeks as tears fall again.
“He ruined me. Parker ruined me.” Willow’s eyes land on me, and the raw anguish swirling within them cuts me to my core.
“What if I’m damaged beyond repair? What if I can’t handle ever be touched again? ”
With that, her face falls into her knees as a sob racks her body.
I hush her, crawling around her body so that her back faces me. “I’m going to touch you, okay, Willow? I need you to shake your head or tell me if you want me to stop.”
I move slowly to avoid causing her distress, but I think she needs to be held right now, even if she’s not capable of voicing it. I grasp both of her shoulders, gently tugging her against my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin, and holding her arms with my own, swaying us side to side.
I sit like that for a while, allowing her to cry in comfortable silence. It’s the way my mom used to hold me late at night after my father had drunk himself to sleep. She’d hush me into silence for fear my tears would wake up and bring his wrath upon us again.
“Can I tell you a truth?” I whisper against the side of her head after her crying has ceased.
“Yes,” she murmurs, a broken rasp accenting her soft voice.
“I have the same fear. That I’ll never be able to handle being touched at all.”
She sniffles. “What do you mean?”
“This . . . right now? This is the most I’ve touched another person since my mother died.
You are the person I’ve touched most consistently in my entire life.
I am terrified I’ll never experience the full range of human emotion—of love and intimacy.
I’m even more terrified that if I do, I’ll do it wrong.
” I let out a shuddering breath against the top of her head, my heart thrashing against my chest with enough force there is no doubt she feels it where our bodies press together.
“I’ve never told anyone this before, but I’m afraid I’m damaged beyond repair too. ”
“You’re not doing this wrong,” she says, voice shallow as she draws circles over the top of my hand with her thumb. “Whatever is happening right now . . .” Her cheek brushes mine as she tilts her head, gazing up at me with glistening eyes. “It feels right.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “It does.”
“Can I tell you a truth now?”
My lips quirk. “I thought that was the trade.”
She huffs a laugh, dropping her eyes back to our hands.
“I haven’t even been able to . . . touch myself.
Since that night. It’s like . . . every time I close my eyes, I only see that last encounter.
I only see his face. The feeling of afterward and .
. .” She sighs. “I don’t know how to make it go away.
It’s like . . . I don’t even feel desire anymore.
” She glances at me, eyes blazing. “Unless I’m . . .”
“Unless what, Wills?” I ask, desperate beyond words to know the completion of that thought.
“Nothing. I’m drunk.”
I sigh, knowing it’s not right to push her if she’s not feeling one hundred percent in control of her words. Instead, I continue holding her, watching the sky and the stars, listening to the waves crash against the shore, the crackle of fire and distant laughter beyond us.
“We should go back,” Willow whispers after a while.
“Whatever you want to do. I’m here for you.”
She tucks her face into the crook of my arm, and her lips tilt against my skin. With a long, soft sigh, she wiggles out of my hold, and I let her go, watching as she stands and reaches out to help me up.
We walk in silence back to the bonfire.
“Ohmygosh,” Allie slurs, throwing herself into Willow’s arms. “I’m so happy I found you. Guys!” She throws an arm around Willow’s shoulders, spinning her in the direction of Archer and Zander before wagging her finger between them. “This is my best friend.”
Zander tosses us a bewildered smirk before addressing his twin. “Is she talking to us? Does she think we don’t know?”
Archer shakes his head, laughing softly. “We’re aware, Allie Cat.”
Willow chuckles, turning toward me to hide her face as she wipes away the last of her tears. Her eyes meet mine briefly, and I mouth okay? She nods, offering me a reassuring smile before she lets Allie take her hand and pull her toward the fire.
“Wait, were you two fucking?” Allie asks in what I assume she believes is a whisper, though it’s definitely not.
“Jesus, Allie,” Willow hisses. “No.”
“Oh, good. Yeah. Sex on the beach is fun in theory but it’s also like begging the universe for a yeast infection.”
Willow glances at me over her shoulder, eyes wide. Sorry.
I shrug, huffing a laugh.
I can’t pretend it’s not a little uncomfortable being around a group of people who are so unashamedly open about sex when I feel like I have nothing to add to the conversation. It’s a reiteration that I don’t fit in, that I’m too broken to be considered normal.
Though, talking with Willow just then was like looking into a pool of rippling water and seeing my own reflection. Not identical. Not a mirror. Different undulations, but a similarity so stark it’s jarring. Our pasts couldn’t be more opposite, and yet we somehow ended up with the same fears.
I wanted so badly to tell her all my truths, to tell her I struggle with the same obstacles.
Touching myself is only ever about physical release, never desire—and I’m constantly wondering what the fuck is wrong with me because of it.
I wanted to tell her the only time I can remember feeling any kind of arousal for another person is when she had my finger in her mouth last week.
But when she admitted she was drunk, that she hadn’t intended to disclose those secrets to me, I decided it best to keep mine to myself too.
Allie grabs two more wine coolers out of the ice chest, shoving one into Willow’s chest. I expect Willow to turn it down, but she doesn’t.
“Allie, you sure you wanna keep going, amor?” Archer asks, peering up at her from where he sits.
She only stares down at him, maintaining eye contact as she pops the cap on the bottle, tilts it to her lips, and takes several massive gulps.
Archer merely blinks. “Message received.”
Allie pats his head. “Good boy.”
She throws herself into the sand between Archer’s legs, leaning back against his chest before whining at Willow to sit down beside her. I take a place next to Zander on Willow’s other side.
“Is she okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, clasping my hands between my legs. “She’ll be all right, I think. Is Allie okay?”
“Yeah. Her boyfriend is a fucking asshole. I don’t know what he said, but he upset her pretty badly. Her parents tried to convince her to go home with them, but she wanted to stay with Archer.” Zander nods to his twin. “He’ll take care of her, though. He always does.”