Chapter 8
I wake up disoriented, heart pounding. For a moment, I can’t remember where I am, what day it is, or why everything feels so heavy. Then, the memories hit me.
The courtyard. Darren. The panic.
I sit up fast, breathing shallow. Shame wraps around me like a second skin.
God. I probably looked like a total freak. The whole school’s probably talking about me by now. The thought makes me want to bury myself six feet under.
Groaning, I force myself out of bed. I never cleaned up when we got home, and my face feels sticky, my eyes sore. I head toward the bathroom, intending to scrub off the worst of it, but voices coming from Axel’s room stop me short.
I know I shouldn’t listen. I know eavesdropping is wrong. I move closer anyway.
The connecting door’s closed, but their voices carry. It’s him and Johnny.
“I know what PTSD looks like, man. I’m telling you she had an episode,” Axel insists, his voice low but intense.
“Alright. If you say that’s what it was, I believe you,” Johnny replies. “What do you think caused it?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Axel admits. “Fucking Darren was whispering something in her ear. He was way too close and had his hand on her. I don’t know if it was what he said or the way he was touching her.”
There’s a pause. I press closer, not wanting to miss a word.
Johnny’s voice is quieter when he speaks again. “You think she’s been assaulted?”
My cheeks flush. Suddenly, I feel hot and sick and exposed. Like they’ve forcefully cracked me open.
And the worst part? They’re right.
“Maybe? I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I told her she could talk to you, and I may have said you could relate to the PTSD stuff.” Axel sounds sheepish.
“Dammit, Axel. Why would you tell her that?” Johnny sounds mad.
“She looked traumatized, okay? I couldn’t stand seeing that empty look in her eyes. She reminded me of you.” Axel’s whisper-yell carries.
“Fine,” Johnny relents. “If she comes to me, I’ll talk to her. Don’t go spreading my shit to anyone else.”
“As if you even have to say that,” Axel scoffs. “You know I don’t talk about your personal stuff.”
“You talked about it with her.”
Another pause.
“That’s different.”
“How do you figure?”
“She’s… family.”
“Family, huh?”
I hear the doubt in Johnny’s voice, but their conversation fades after that. I ease away from the door, grab my makeup remover wipes, and retreat to my room.
The image reflected in my mirror is a mess. Cheeks hollow. Hair flat. Eyes dead.
Great. That’s the girl everyone saw fall apart today.
As I wipe my face clean, irritation starts to simmer. Axel had no right to tell Johnny. I know he meant well, but that doesn’t make it okay.
And God. What if he told Ben or Maryanne?
If he did, it’s too late now.
With my smeared makeup removed, I look marginally better. Unable to ignore my growling stomach any longer, I fluff my curls, then step into the hall.
“Hey.”
I jump. My hand flies to my chest.
My head whips to the side to find Johnny leaning against the wall by my door, his arms crossed casually.
“Jesus, Johnny!” I exhale. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His tone is calm. “I just wanted to talk.”
“Yeah?” I play dumb. “About what?”
“About what happened at school today. Axel filled me in.”
“Ugh. Of course he did.” I groan and cross my arms. “There’s nothing to talk about. I have it handled.”
“Do you, though?”
His hazel eyes meet mine, knowing. Like he sees too much.
The hairs on my arms rise.
“Yes,” I snap. “What happened today won’t happen again.”
It’s a lie. A desperate one. I can’t control other people. And I clearly can’t control myself, either.
Johnny pushes off the wall, like he’s going to leave, but pauses beside me.
“Don’t be mad at Axel. He’s just concerned.”
I say nothing.
“And you don’t have to worry. He didn’t tell Mom or Ben. As far as they know, you were at school the whole day.”
He walks past me without another word.
Left in the hallway, I’m unsure what I feel more: grateful or exposed.
Johnny descends the stairs, at least leaving me with the knowledge that no one else knows. I rub a hand over my face, frustration simmering beneath my skin. What happened today can’t happen again. But how do I stop something I can’t control?
My stomach growls again just as the smell of something delicious hits me. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and Darren saw to it that I didn’t get more than a few bites in before the world turned sideways.
My body shudders at the thought of him. He’s going to be hell to deal with.
The sight that greets me at the bottom of the stairs causes me to pause. Ben and Maryanne are sitting at the kitchen table, talking and laughing. Johnny’s grabbing drinks from the fridge, and Axel—Axel—is standing at the stove, cooking like it’s something he does every night.
For a second, I just watch. The scene is too perfect, just like something from a Hallmark movie. It makes something ache deep in my chest.
So, this is what a real family looks like.
I consider slipping back upstairs, not wanting to ruin whatever this is. But Johnny turns, sees me, and jerks his head toward the kitchen like, Come on.
I take a deep breath, shove my feelings down where they can’t get in the way, and step forward.
“Hey, sweetie! How was your first day?” Maryanne greets me with a bright smile.
Axel glances over his shoulder and gives a subtle shake of his head. I catch the signal: they don’t know.
“It was good,” I reply, slipping into the open space beside him. “What’s for dinner?”
He’s stirring a creamy-looking sauce in a pan, working a wire whisk like a pro.
“Chicken in a garlic Dijon sauce,” he says. “Here… stir this a sec.”
He offers the whisk, and I blink.
“You sure? I’m not exactly… culinary.”
“You’ll be fine. Just keep it moving,” he says, stepping aside.
I take his place and stir carefully, half expecting it to spontaneously go up in flames.
Axel returns with something green and leafy in his hand. He chops it like he knows what he’s doing, making quick, efficient chops before scooping it into the pan.
“Basil,” he says, catching my confused expression.
Of course,” I murmur, pretending I totally knew that. He sees right through me and grins, flashing those ridiculous dimples.
“So... you cook?”
“Of course,” he mimics, tossing me a wink.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile.
“Didn’t peg you as the apron-wearing type.”
“Helps me unwind,” he shrugs. “Try it sometime. Unless you burn water.”
He leans in slightly to check my handiwork. He smells good. Annoyingly good.
“Alright, I’ll take it from here. Go sit. Relax.”
I don’t argue. I slip into a seat at the kitchen table across from Ben and Maryanne. Ben gives me a pleased look, like he’s glad I showed up.
Johnny drops into the chair on my left, and Axel joins us with the food a moment later, sitting on my right. The meal looks and smells amazing. It tastes even better.
Throughout dinner, the family talks and jokes, and they include me without making it weird or obvious. At first, I don't know how to respond or act, but I slowly find myself easing into it. Bit by bit.
It’s… nice. But also, strange. This kind of easy domestic rhythm isn’t something I’m accustomed to.
After dinner, Ben reminds me about training in the morning. I assure him I’ll be there, then escape upstairs under the excuse of homework.
Back in my room, I catch up on assignments from the morning classes I did attend. But I’m still drained—physically, mentally, emotionally—and when I finally crawl into bed, sleep comes fast and heavy.