23 #2
“I’m sorry you had to watch it,” I said.
Her fingers tightened. “I needed to know.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You needed proof because everyone around you made your own body feel unreliable. That’s different.”
She stared at me.
The words had come before I thought too hard about them, but I knew they were right by the way her face changed. A little break. A little relief. A little horror at being seen.
“That’s what it felt like,” she whispered.
I pulled her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Then that’s what it was.”
Her eyes filled. “No one ever says it that simply.”
“People are stupid.”
“That is your healing thesis?”
“Working title.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she laughed beneath it. “You are so emotionally underqualified.”
“Wildly.” I kissed her knuckles again. “Still here.”
She looked at our hands. “I pieced together what I could. I heard enough names afterward. Saw enough reactions. Maddox was too comfortable. Iver used phrases from the video. Darian told people I liked attention before anyone outside that party should have known anything happened. Jerod laughed every time someone said my name in class. They were the guys. I couldn’t prove all of them were even in the room, but they were. ”
“The law failed you.”
“Maddox’s dad failed me. He was a governor at the time and threatened my dad’s job, my scholarship…”
“The law failed you,” I repeated.
Her mouth trembled.
I leaned forward. “Don’t lawyer me out of that.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were preparing an objection.”
“I have a face for that?”
“You have several.”
A faint smile curved her mouth. “Name three.”
“Dismissive pre-law princess. Murderous cross-examiner. Hot girl about to cite precedent while emotionally unstable.”
“That last one feels targeted.”
“It’s my favorite.”
She exhaled a laugh, and the sound loosened something in my chest.
Then her face sobered again. “Maddox’s dad had power.
Money. Everyone knew the Vincent name. Darian’s family had enough money to buy excellent threats.
Their attorney called my parents and gave them a preview of what pressing charges would look like.
My phone. My texts. My history with Darian.
Every picture. Every party. Every time I’d flirted or kissed him or been his girlfriend used to prove I was a liar.
Once they threatened his job, his pension… ”
My thumb moved over the back of her hand.
“My dad wanted to burn the world down,” she said. “My mom wanted to wrap me in blankets and never let anyone look at me again. I wanted to disappear. Every path ended with me on display. Again.”
My voice came out rough. “So you didn’t press.”
“I couldn’t.” Her eyes lifted to mine fast. “I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds like you were seventeen and cornered by people who knew exactly how to make justice look like another assault.”
She covered her mouth.
I tugged gently until her hand came down. “Don’t hide from me.”
Her chin trembled. “I don’t know what to do when you say the right thing.”
“Insult me. It’s familiar ground.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Your hair is still damp, and it looks like a sad golden retriever after a lake incident.”
I nodded gravely. “Strong recovery.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She looked at me then, really looked, and I could feel us becoming something in the quiet. Not fixed. Not healed. Something with a pulse. Something that had survived long enough to sit half-naked in her bed and tell the truth without turning it into another blade.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I sighed. “Aura.”
“No, I know. I’m not using it like a Band-Aid. I just need to say it when it comes up.” Her fingers moved against mine. “I am sorry I made you feel like loving me was embarrassing. I am sorry I made your softness feel pathetic. I am sorry I didn’t tell you enough to help you understand.”
I looked down at our hands. “I’m sorry I made you pay for what I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I knew you were scared.”
She went quiet.
I let that sit because it mattered.
“I knew enough to stop being cruel,” I said. “I didn’t. That part is mine.”
Her thumb slid along my palm. “We are a fucking mess.”
“Yeah.”
“Like, professionally.”
“Elite level.”
“Could medal.”
“Podium for sure.”
She laughed again, and this one had more air in it.
I caught her chin gently and turned her face toward mine. “We’re going to need help.”
“With what?”
I gave her a look.
She rolled her eyes. “Emotionally, yes, obviously. I was hoping you meant moving a couch or something less humiliating.”
“I mean us. Separately too, probably.”
“That sounds like therapy.”
“It does.”
“I hate that we’re people who need therapy.”
“I think everybody needs therapy. We just need the varsity package.”
She stared at me for a second, then laughed hard enough to fold into my shoulder.
I wrapped an arm around her, and for the first time since I walked through her door, the protective thing in me didn’t feel sharp. It felt steady. Heavy, but steady.
She settled against me, her cheek against my chest, her fingers tracing the lines of my ribs. “Tell me about your mom.”
I looked down at her. “My mom?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to keep discussing the legal and emotional collapse of our lives?”
“I am scheduling that for later. Right now, I want your mom, because apparently she bullied you into emotional literacy, and I respect her work.”
My mouth curved. “She’d like that.”
“She’d like me?”
“She’d probably pretend to be cautious for eight minutes, then ask if you eat enough and whether your parents know you drive too fast when you’re upset.”
“I do not drive too fast.”
“You drive like the law is a suggestion you helped draft.”
“That is slander.”
I pressed my mouth to her hair. “She would like you.”
Aura went still in my arms. “You said that earlier.”
“I meant it earlier.”
She traced a small circle over my chest. “You told her about me?”
“Not your story.”
“I know.”
“I told her enough for her to know I love you.”
Her fingers stopped.
“She asked if it was you,” I said. “The girl.”
“Smart woman.”
“Terrifying woman.”
“Efficient combination.”
“She also told me I’m not my dad.”
Aura’s expression softened.
I looked at the ceiling because saying it while looking at her felt too exposed, even after everything.
“My dad died, and I started acting like every empty space he left came with my name on it. Mom. Skylar. Vivi. The house. Money. Everything. I turned being needed into proof I was useful, then got pissed when I had nothing left that felt like mine.”
Aura’s hand found mine again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” I dragged in a breath. “Vivi is twelve. She has autism. She needs more support than some people expect when they hear the word. She’s funny and stubborn and particular about everything.
Routine matters. Texture matters. If someone moves her blue cup to the wrong cabinet, the whole house pays for it emotionally. ”
Aura’s mouth softened. “Blue cup supremacy. I understand.”
“She loves numbers. Hates loud rooms. Thinks Briggs is suspicious because his voice changes too much when he jokes.”
“She is correct.”
I laughed. “She told him he talks like a cartoon pirate once. He still hasn’t recovered.”
Aura smiled against my shoulder. “I adore her already.”
“Skylar is fourteen. She acts like she’s grown because she has anxiety wearing lip gloss. She loves music. Wants to do this summer program she pretends she doesn’t care about because she heard Mom talking about the cost.”
Aura’s face shifted. “And you were trying to pay for it.”
“I was trying to help.”
“Easton.”
“I know.” I looked at her. “I know what you’re about to say.”
“Do you?”
“You’re about to tell me I’m allowed to be her brother instead of her father.”
Her eyes softened. “Look at you, emotionally literate and everything.”
“I had a mother-assisted breakthrough.”
“Those are powerful.”
“She told me she loves me more than my ability to fix things.”
Aura’s hand stilled on my chest.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s the kind of thing I need to sit with for several business days.”
“She’s good.”
“She sounds like a menace.”
“She is.”
“When I meet her, I need warning.”
“When you’re ready, I want you to meet them.”
Her face changed, open for half a breath before fear tried to cover it.
I touched her cheek. “Not tomorrow. Not as a test. Not like I’m dragging you into my family so you can prove something. When you’re ready.”
“I know how to be around families that love loudly.”
“My family loves weirdly.”
“That helps.”
“Vivi might ignore you for three hours, then ask if your hair is heavy.”
Aura’s mouth twitched. “It is.”
“Skylar will act like she doesn’t care, then text Mom from across the room and ask if you’re as cool as you seem.”
“I am.”
“I know.”
“She has good instincts.”
“My mom will feed you.”
“That part scares me least.”
“She’ll ask about your parents.”
“My dad will run a background check on you.”
“Fair.”
“My mom will pretend she didn’t already search your statistics, family history, arrest record, and probably your star chart.”
“I don’t know my star chart.”
“She’ll find it.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know.”