Chapter Fifty-Three – Fawn
I’ve never been so happy to see rain — like Ivywood needed the release just as badly as I did.
It taps against the window as we all sit on the couch.
I’m only in my panties and one of Dylan’s large t-shirts, and the smell of him clings to me . . . like home. A reminder I am safe and loved.
And for what feels like the first time in an eternity, my heart doesn’t feel hollow or like I’m being sucked into a black hole. I’m with them.
The pungent scent of antiseptic fills my nostrils as Torin kneels in front of me, a massive bowl resting between his knees. He places my feet in the solution, and instantly, the cuts start stinging. It takes everything in me not to let out a yelp or bite my bottom lip.
Beside me, a shirtless Dylan grits his teeth as he bandages his hands. Occasionally, a small ow slips out before he can swallow it.
“I still can’t believe you’re here, princess,” he whispers, sweeping a piece of my hair behind my ear.
A fake smile forms on my face because I know what’s coming. They’ll ask questions and want to hear the truth.
“I should’ve been there when your mom passed,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Dylan rests his hand on my leg and squeezes, like he’s holding us together. “Hey, listen,” he trembles, his eyes all shiny. “Let’s not talk about my mom, okay? It’s been so fucking hard, but I’m going to get through it because I have you and Torin.”
I nod because I know what it’s like to lose a parent — that kind of grief sinks into your bones. It opens wounds that feel like they’re ready to tear you apart at the most unpredictable moments. Some wounds aren’t ready to be touched, and that’s fine.
Torin raises my foot out of the bowl, water dripping onto the towel underneath. He pats me dry and bandages it with such care. Finished, he looks up at me, his eyes intense but soft around the edges.
Dylan reaches for a couple of pills on the coffee table. “Just melatonin,” he says quickly, like he can read the question written all over my face. “Don’t worry; it takes a while to kick in anyway. It’s been hard getting a good night’s sleep.”
He swallows the pills dry, no water — like it’s some party trick he’s mastered.
“So, baby,” Torin says, his voice low and controlled, “we’re all ears.” A pause. “Why did you vanish?”
Swallowing hard, I try to force the lump down my throat, my fingers twisting the hem of Dylan’s shirt.
The pounding in my chest is so loud, I’m shocked they can’t hear it.
A part of me is tempted not to tell them about the coach, since he has always been there for them.
I could take the easy road and go along with the fact that I don’t deserve them, but I owe them the truth.
“Well, after the night we had dinner, I started having thoughts—”
“What kind of thoughts, princess?” Dylan asks, unable to hold himself back.
“Let her speak, Dyl.” Torin’s jaw flexes, his eyes dark and locked on me.
“It was like this voice that wouldn’t shut up.
Telling me I was temporary, that I was nothing, that you’d eventually outgrow me.
” My hands twist in my lap. “I kept thinking . . . why would two people like you choose someone like me? That demon inside my head told me I was holding you back. That one day, you’d wake up and realize I wasn’t worth the trouble.
” I shake my head, tears blurring everything.
“Once that thought took root, it was all I could hear.” I finally look up at them, my chest aching.
Dylan puts his arm around me, pulling me into his chest as if he’s grounding me.
“Oh, princess.” His voice trembles when he says my nickname.
“When are you going to realize you’re everything to us?
We choose you, every single day.” His hold on me tightens slightly.
“You should have told us how much you were hurting, and we would have endured it with you. You didn’t have to carry it by yourself. ”
His mom just died, and yet he’s here, worrying about me, holding me together when he’s the one falling apart.
I feel Torin’s stare, his eyes heavy and knowing. “There’s something else.” He crosses his arms over his chest. Not accusing. Certain. “Isn’t there, Fawn?”
I want to look away, but I can’t, so I bite down hard on my bottom lip, like somehow, it’ll keep the truth from spilling out, but it doesn’t. A quiet whimper escapes me, and I nod.
Torin’s voice tightens. “Did someone hurt you?”
I shake my head, but even to myself, the denial is weak.
“Fawn?” Dylan’s thumb traces under my eye, catching the tears.
Bile travels up my throat when I whisper his name. “Coach Richards.”
Straight away, the air in the room shifts. I listen as Torin’s breathing becomes sharp and rhythmic, like thunder building in his chest. “What happened? Did he fucking touch you?”
“No,” I rush out. “He . . . he blackmailed me. The night we were at the rink . . . in the office. He has the whole thing recorded. He had a secret camera in there.” My voice cracks completely.
“I came to watch you practice. You didn’t know I arrived.
The coach approached me, asked me to go up to the office with him.
Once we were up there, he said our relationship was a joke, an embarrassment, a delusion, and that I needed to leave you.
When I told him I couldn’t do that, he showed me the video and said he had leverage.
” I let out a quiet sob. “He said it was best for me to go quietly. He made me slip out through a back exit, told me to break up with you via text, to not make a scene. I’m sorry. ”
Their faces drop, and it’s like I’ve opened Pandora’s Box — I’ve just shattered their world.
What have I done?
Dylan freezes. His mouth falls open, and he doesn’t say a word. His expression is as painful as the memory itself.
Torin’s eye twitches, and a vein bulges on his forehead.
“I’m going to kill him,” he growls, already pacing toward the door. “I’ll kill the bastard!”
“No!” I take off after him, my feet blazing. “Torin, please. Stay. I don’t want you getting into trouble because of me.”
My feet hurt so much, I collapse on the floor, sobbing.
In an instant, Dylan appears at my side, falling beside me, surrounding me in his arms like he’s protecting me from the world. “I’ve got you,” he whispers fiercely into my hair. “I’m here, princess.”
Torin paces the living room, agitated, his hands reaching for his hair before balling into fists. “I have to punch something,” he snarls. “Anything. I need to go and pay the coach a fucking visit.”
“Torin, if you go after him without thinking, you’re going to put all of us at risk.” I force the words out. “You were in that video, both kissing, and remember, it’s not just you. There’s my grandpa as well. The coach made a comment saying the video would ruin my reputation as an author.”
He cracks his knuckles, eyes dark with violence, barely holding back.
Dylan rises to his feet. “Torin. Trust me, I’m hurt too, buddy. There’s nothing I want more than to beat the living hell out of him, but I can’t fight at the moment,” he pauses. “Plus, we have to think. We need a plan.”
“Fuck a plan!” Torin snaps. “I could break his hands before he even has time to post the video. Now get out of my way!”
“No! No!” Dylan pushes him back, into the wall, “Torin. I’m too weak at the moment to deal with this. All I care about is our girl, and we have her back.”
“So you’re going to allow the man we have trusted for all these years to do this to us?” Torin scoffs. “I’m not letting him get away with this. I’ll kill him.”
Every ounce of me hates hearing them argue. It makes something inside me crack. With the last bit of strength I have left, I heave myself up, my legs trembling, agony lancing through my foot, but I manage to remain standing. “Fucking stop! Now!”
They freeze.
“Torin, listen, if you go after him, he will post that video and my reputation will be damaged. I’ll make no money and you will put my grandpa at risk. I worked so hard to get him into that nursing home.”
Torin stares at me, chest heaving.
“Please, don’t do anything stupid for me . . . For us.”
Dylan moves in closer, his hands steady at my waist, and we all stare at each other in silence for a moment. Carefully, I try to walk over to Torin to hold him, but a sharp pain shoots through my foot. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Without hesitation, Dylan slips an arm underneath mine and holds me. “Whoa, easy, princess. Come on. I think we should head to bed. Today’s been exhausting,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow.”
Too tired to argue, I nod as I lean into him wobbling toward the bedroom but before we leave the lounge, something tugs at me. I turn my head. “Torin, are you coming?”
He stands there silent for a second, eyes distant, still fighting the storm that’s ripping through him. Then he exhales slowly through his nose and follows behind us.
****
Torin and I are sitting up in bed, while Dylan has finally passed out between us, his chest rising and falling unevenly, one arm is curled around the top of my thighs, as if he needs the reassurance that I’m never going to disappear again.
Being here feels like I can finally breathe after weeks of suffocation.
“That medication has wiped him out,” I whisper, intertwining my fingers in Dylan’s hair. He stirs but doesn’t wake, only drawing closer, his forehead relaxing against my thigh. “I bet he needed the sleep, huh?”
Torin doesn’t answer or look my way; he stays rigid alongside Dylan.
He’s back against the headboard, and his eyes are fixed on the wall, as if he’s holding himself back.
I try to make conversation, hoping to relieve the silence.
“I think Dylan may have damaged his knuckles when he trashed his room. They aren’t broken, but they should heal by themselves. ”