Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Rob's truck pulled into the parking lot of the gas station, and I gripped the handle of my suitcase, suddenly feeling light-headed. Was I really doing this? Had I gotten out of my mom's car and refused to go home for Christmas?
I stood there next to the pop refrigerator where I’d second-guessed myself for the last fifteen minutes. Was I making a big deal out of nothing? It was a long time ago. But the idea of seeing him again, of having to sit in the same space, made bile rise in my throat.
I walked to the doors, ignoring the strange looks the cashier was giving me and my suitcase, and exited to the sidewalk just as Rob got out of the front seat. We hadn't talked much on the phone. Mostly because I didn't want to sob like a baby in front of Chris, the gas station attendant.
Rob rounded the front of the truck and grabbed my suitcase. He threw it into the back seat, then took my toiletry case and backpack and set them in next to it. Then he opened the door to the passenger seat, and I don't know why it was that motion that did it, but the floodgates broke open.
I turned my face away from him as I got in the truck and fumbled for my seat belt. Then turned the opposite direction when he got in and started the engine. He didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions. There was no doubt in my mind that he saw I was upset. I kept swiping my cheeks every five seconds.
I finally got a hold of myself while we waited at a light a few blocks later. “Thank you for picking me up.” My voice sounded watery, my nose stuffy and clogged.
“Yeah.” Rob adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.
“I wasn’t sure you’d call the number. Since you didn’t recognize it.” He’d made a point about not calling unknown numbers when we played foosball in the basement.
Rob drew a breath. “You did type in 9-1-1.”
I pursed my lips. “Yeah.” My mom’s words came back to me. You’re being dramatic. “I'm sorry if I messed up your plans. I know you were leaving today.”
“No. It's fine. You didn't mess up anything.”
I still couldn't look at him. I kept my eyes trained out the windshield, gritting my teeth to keep another round of emotion from washing over me. Standing in the gas station, I hadn't planned on telling Rob the details about why I was going back to the house and not to my parents. But sitting there, it felt like if I didn't get the story out of my body, it would keep looping torturously in my head.
My memories of those nights were like this. Sometimes crystal clear, and sometimes like I was inspecting them at the bottom of a pool. Colours. Shapes. That was when I had to repeat the facts in detail. Otherwise, the whole scene started to slip away from me.
My heart sped. I needed someone else to tell me that I wasn't crazy, that it was reasonable for me to get out of the car and page my boyfriend's best friend in a gas station.
“When I was thirteen, I spent a few weeks of the summer at my grandma's house. My parents were there. It was kind of a summer getaway. I didn't know it at the time, but my grandma was really struggling. My dad went to help her fix some things up at the house so she wouldn't have to hire somebody, and my mom used it as an excuse to take a vacation.”
I drew a breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “We spent time at the lake, picked wild raspberries, learned how to canoe. It was idyllic. Until the end of the first week when I woke up in the middle of the night. To someone's hands on my body.”
I couldn't look at Rob. Couldn't move. I was frozen in the seat. But I heard the twist of his hands on the wheel. The abrupt rev of the engine as we turned onto Center St.
He was pissed. And knowing that gave me the courage to continue. This was wrong, and now there was one other person who knew it. My friends knew. Logan knew. But not like this.
“I knew it was my cousin Eric because I opened my eyes when he was finished. I saw his shirt. His buzz cut.” My gut clenched, the image of his silhouette against the light from the hall burned on my retina. That was what I saw in my dreams. Light and dark. But the sounds were so much worse.
I blew out a shaky breath. “He pretended nothing had happened. The next day I was sick. Throwing up. He offered to bring me soup. He sat with me while we watched a movie—to this day, I can’t watch Hook.”
Rob made a sound in his throat. I turned my head to the side and pressed my forehead against the cold glass as shame washed over me. Why had I pretended? Why hadn’t I said something then?
And then I told Rob something I’d never said to another person. “I let him be my friend.” The last word died on a sob. “He was doing all these nice things for me, and I let him. I watched movies with him, I baked cookies—” My hands clenched into fists.
Six nights he came into my room at night, touched me while he touched himself. And for six days I pretended I was fine with it. I acted like I was friends with him. No wonder my parents didn’t believe me.
I hated my cousin, but I hated myself more.
Rob pulled the truck up to the curb in front of our townhouse, the engine rumbling softly before it shut off, leaving us in silence. I stared out the windshield, my face streaked with tears, my throat raw. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but now that I'd said it all, I felt like I'd been ripped open, bleeding out in his passenger seat.
Rob unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the truck. I shivered as cold air seeped in, then he was there, opening my door. He reached across my lap and unbuckled my seatbelt, his body brushing against mine.
He didn’t leave. Rob wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to the sidewalk, enveloping me in his arms. I burrowed into his chest, his hand cradling the back of my head as I somehow found new tears to cry.
His shirt was soft and smelled like fresh laundry, and I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his body seep into me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Rob murmured, his lips brushing the crown of my head.
Rob didn't say anything for a long time. He just held me there, in the cold, with his thumb stroking my back. My tears slowed, and my breaths became more even.
“He’s there. At my house for Christmas. I couldn’t go back.” I became hyper-aware of his body against mine. The way his chest rose and fell. The way his fingers gripped my hip. The way his thumb brushed against the skin on my neck.
"I knew there was something," Rob said, his voice low. "That night when I was using the washroom."
I exhaled against his now-damp shirt. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. If I would’ve known?—”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. You shouldn’t have to be afraid at night.” He inhaled, my head rising with his chest. “You shouldn’t ever have to be afraid again.”
I blew out a breath. “I don’t think that’s how life works.”
“Well it should. For you.”
My skin lit up where I touched him, my hands threaded through his coat. I could feel everything beneath his cotton shirt, and my pulse thudded like a drum.
"What's your address?” Rob’s voice resonated through me.
“Pretty sure you know my address.”
He chuckled. “Your home address.”
I lifted my chin and blinked up at him, my eyes burning from crying. "Why?"
"So I can go beat the living shit out of your cousin."
I shook my head. "I don’t think Douglas would be pleased if you got arrested over Christmas break."
“Then just give it to me for fun.”
A laugh of all things bubbled out of me. “I’m not going to give it to you.” I eased out of his arms, and Rob dropped his hands to his sides. "But I appreciate that. More than you know.” I pulled my coat closer around me, shivering at the loss of his warmth. “We should go in."
He nodded, his jaw tight, and opened the back. I grabbed my purse from the front seat, and he threw my backpack over his shoulder and grabbed my suitcase. I followed him to the front door of the townhouse, and he unlocked it.
Warm air washed over me as I stepped inside, and I needed a minute. Or several. I hurried to the washroom and turned on the light, then grabbed a cloth from the cupboard. After wetting it with cold water, I wiped up my tear-streaked face.
I turned off the tap and set the cloth on the counter. I sat down on the closed toilet seat, glancing up at the edge of the tub. Rob's shampoo and body wash stood beside my own, and now his toothbrush was sitting out on the sink. Right where mine usually was.
Heat started low in my belly and radiated out like a sunburst. A crescendo. I stood and looked for my moisturizer, then realized it was still in my toiletry kit. I walked out of the washroom and into the hall, hoping I could grab it and sneak back in, when I stopped short next to the kitchen island.
Rob stood in front of my suitcase, his back to me. He was bent over, his hand half inside the main compartment.
I cleared my throat, and he froze. Rob slowly turned his head, then stood and spun around to face me. There was a flash of white before he clasped both hands behind his back. "I, uh, was just?—"
"If you’re stealing my underwear right now?—"
“I’m not stealing your underwear.”
I walked forward, my pulse kicking up a notch as I waited for an explanation.
He did not disappoint. "I was looking for floss. Since you were in the washroom.”
I raised an eyebrow. "In my suitcase?"
He shrugged. "Seemed like a logical place to start."
"For floss."
"Yup."
I pointed at my toiletry kit. “Didn’t want to start with that?” I stopped in front of him, and his cheeks heated. I glanced around the living room and frowned. “Aren’t you leaving today?” I didn’t see a suitcase, and there wasn’t one in his truck.
His throat worked. “The plumber's coming in the morning." My eyes widened. "I called him, and he said he could be here around ten."
I nodded. "Well, since I’m here, I can let him in. You won’t have to wait."
Rob shifted on his feet. "Yeah, uh . . . “ One of his hands reappeared to nervously scrub his jaw. “I’m not exactly going home for Christmas.”
I blinked. “But you said you were.”
“I lied.”
My blinking became morse code. “Why?”
"I didn't want it to be a thing."
"A thing?" I repeated. "What kind of thing?"
Rob’s jaw tensed. "It's embarrassing. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.” He flicked his eyes to the floor, then back to me.
Realization dawned, and my internal organs flipped positions. “So you're going to be here? Over the break?"
Rob nodded. "Yeah. I guess so."
Okay. This was fine. It was what we’d been doing all along, nothing had to change or get more complicated. Sure, I might not have hugged him as long if I thought I’d have to be alone with him in our house for the next three weeks?—
This was not fine. My mouth was already dry, my heart trying to shove its way up my throat. I hadn’t heard from Logan. My friends were out of town. It was just me and him.
Rob tried to skirt around me, but I stepped out, blocking his path. "Did you find floss?”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“In my suitcase.”
He wet his lips. “Ah, no?—”
“Then what are you holding behind your back?”
He stilled, then pulled it out. A white envelope. “It was just mail.”
I raised an eyebrow. “From my suitcase?” The wheels turned in his head, and before he could spin another lie, I said, “I’ve never told anyone that. What I said in the car.” I let it sink in before continuing. “I’ve told Logan and my friends parts of what happened but not what I did. How I . . . reacted.”
Rob’s breathing quickened. His jaw tensed. Then he flipped the card over.
My name. It was written on the front. My pulse felt like it was pushing through a crazy straw. "You got me a Christmas card?"
Rob scraped his teeth over his lower lip. "Not exactly."
"Then what is it?" I reached out, but he pulled it back.
“Your answers."
All the air seemed to suck out of the house, the empty space suctioning to my skin like plastic wrap. "You wrote them down?" I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper. He nodded, his expression tense. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the envelope. "Are you going to give it to me?"
Rob's hand tightened around the paper. "Not while I'm standing here."
I frowned. "Why not?"
"Because.”
"Because . . . " I motioned for him to continue.
Rob exhaled sharply. "I thought I could put it in your suitcase and you’d find it over the break. By yourself. Without me there."
The open zipper. I had left my suitcase closed. Rob had opened it and slipped in the card. I worried my lower lip. "But we're both going to be here over the break."
He nodded. "Exactly."
I reached for the envelope again, my fingers brushing against his. Rob didn't let go. "I want to read it."
His grip tightened, and my frustration flared. "I'll just take it and go read it in my room. Problem solved."
He shook his head, his gaze locking onto mine. "No."
I threw up my hands. "What the hell, Rob? You wrote it for me, right? It's got my name on it. Why are you being an ass about this?"
Rob’s pupils dilated. “New Years.”
Somehow we’d gotten closer during our argument, both our hands still locked on the envelope. “What about it?”
“You can read it then.”
I could smell him. Feel the heat from his body. “What’s the difference?”
Rob swallowed hard. “I won't be here when you open it."
My eyes narrowed. "You're not going to be here?"
"Right."
"But I thought you weren't going home for Christmas."
He hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not."
I drew in a breath. "So, what, you’ve got some hot party you don’t want to tell me about?"
Rob dragged his free hand through his hair. "Something like that."
Why was he being so damn cryptic? “Just spit it out! If it’s an Outlaws party or something and I wasn’t invited?—”
"I'm moving out,” he blurted, and my arm went slack, my fingers releasing my side of the card.
"What?"
Rob’s expression hardened. "I won't be here after New Year's because I'm moving into the house with Brayden and Rory."