Chapter 21 #2
Libby blinks again like she did when I admitted my feelings. “What?” she says, sounding stunned.
“I’m the worst,” I say with a sigh.
She shakes her head slowly. “How is it possible you don’t know about Grayson Hollis?” she whispers. “You acted like you knew…”
I don’t know what to say. How can I? I have no idea what she means.
“When I told you that my family would think me running off to marry you was just like Grayson all over again?” she prompts.
She squints. “I might not have said his name, but … you acted like you knew,” she repeats.
“And the whole reason I’m getting the show.
To change the narrative about me. The way the fans talk about what happened—haven’t you seen the comments on the pictures we’ve posted? ”
I grimace. A couple conversations pop into my head, when I was confused about references to her past, but I pushed them aside.
“I don’t pay a lot of attention to social media.
I’ve been letting my publicist handle things.
” I rub a hand across my forehead. This doesn’t make me sound like a very good partner for Libby if I’m ignoring things she thinks I should be paying attention to.
She puts a hand over her mouth and laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. “Well, this is humbling, I guess.”
“Do you want to tell me about Grayson Hollis, or should I Google?” I ask.
I sense this is bigger than just a breakup.
Has Libby been married before? Is that what she’s referring to?
I never watched more than a couple early episodes of Being the Bennets in order to prepare for appearing on Libby’s show with her, but maybe this is in the later episodes?
But she would have only been a teenager. At least I know she was young when the show ended. So maybe not.
She chews on her bottom lip. I want to pull her into my arms, tell her that nothing about Grayson Hollis matters to me, whatever she decides. I hate seeing her like this. But I hold back and let Libby take the lead.
“I’ll tell you. I don’t want to think about how the internet tells this story.” She reaches up and tugs on her braid. “Grayson Hollis used to play for the Pumas. He was twenty-five when I met him. I was seventeen.”
I clench my jaw. My stomach swirls. I don’t like where this story is headed.
“He lied to me about something that happened with Will’s cousin.
He wanted to spread his lies, his side of the story, and because I was on this huge reality TV show, and because I was seventeen and didn’t know how to keep my mouth shut, he groomed me.
” She says all of this matter-of-factly.
She looks down at her hands in her lap, her shoulders slumped now.
I want more than anything to pull her into my arms, but I resist. The effort is herculean, harder than anything I’ve ever done.
“He charmed me. He flirted with me. He made me feel special.”
All of Libby’s boundaries make perfect sense. The way she put up walls in our first interactions because I flirted with her, because I was charming.
“He convinced me that my family didn’t understand us, of course.
That he thought I was mature for my age and that he loved me.
” She’s still talking in an even tone, but that must have come from ten years of healing over this.
Her eyes glisten, proving that no matter how much time has passed, it still hurts.
It always will. I only know a tiny bit of that heartache after watching my sister become the target of Bryce’s lies, but it’s enough to break my heart for Libby.
“He convinced me to go to Mexico with him.” She pulls in a breath. She’s steeling herself for the worst of the story. I want to throw up because I know what’s coming. “He wouldn’t let me contact my family, and he … he…”
“It’s okay, Libby,” I say, putting my hand over hers.
I want to haul her into my arms, hold her and promise that everything will be okay—but after what she went through then?
And the way she’s held herself back because of trust?
Stepping over that boundary now definitely isn’t the right move.
“You don’t have to say anything else,” I insist. “It’s okay. ”
“I want something between us,” she whispers, her voice on the edge of breaking. “I feel it too. I want it, but I can’t believe it’s real.”
“Shhh,” I whisper back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“Can I hug you?” she asks. “I know after what I just said, that’s probably too much—”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.
” I do let her lean into me first, though, and then wrap my arms gently around her, even though I want to press her to me and tighten my hold.
This is ripping my heart in half. After everything I admitted to her, and after what she told me, she still feels safe in my arms. It tells me that she trusts in me more than she thinks.
But I would never push her. I would never try to convince her of something she doesn’t see herself.
I will not be the better version of Grayson Hollis.
She pulls back after several moments and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“You don’t need to be sorry about anything.” I shake my head vehemently.
“What are we going to do, then?” she asks in a small voice. “I can’t ask you to keep doing this—”
I hold up a hand, stopping her. “I already agreed to do this. I won’t back out. I’m your friend, Libby. And I will always be your friend.” Even if she’s never ready for anything more.
“Jordan.”
“Unless you don’t want me here, I’m staying. I’m your partner.” I keep my eyes on hers, willing her to feel my sincerity. I told Baylee that it didn’t matter what she said, and though this isn’t how I wanted things to turn out, I meant that.
Libby pushes out her bottom lip in a pout, not realizing how much it makes me want to kiss her. It’s alright. I’m strong. I’m a hockey player, for heaven’s sake. I can take it.
“Should we make some new rules?” she asks, our legs are still touching as we sit beside each other on the edge of the bed. Should I pull away? Libby initiated this contact, and she isn’t moving away. I’m going to take what I can get.
I chuckle. “Would new rules help you feel better?”
She nods. “They would. I want to protect you too.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
She eyes me. “You’re still here, when I could end up hurting you. It seems like you do.”
I give a mock huff. “Okay, what’s the first new rule?”
“No kissing—not even in public. Like you said before, people will understand if we’re chill about our affection.”
“Probably for the best.” I hate this new rule. It’s the worst new rule. But she’s right that with my feelings out there now, things could get confusing for us really fast.
She clears her throat. “Also, if at any time, you need out of this, we will figure something out.” She nods, as though she’s making the decision official.
I will never want out. I just say, “Okay.”
We stare at each other for several more seconds before she stands and takes a step away from the bed. “Your turn to use the bathroom,” she says.
I follow suit, standing up as well, but before I go to my bag to grab clothes to change into, I say, “I’m sorry I didn’t know and you had to tell me all of that.”
She waves her hand at me, avoiding eye contact. “I should have talked to you about it before. We’re married.”
“It’s crazy I didn’t already know. And you don’t owe me that story,” I insist. “But I’m glad you trusted me enough to give it to me.”
She meets my gaze, the weight of my words bringing them up. “I do. Trust you enough.”
I smile, grab my duffel bag, and head for the bathroom.
Libby is under the blankets, holding a book, when I come out in running shorts and a T-shirt.
“I’m going to go for a run,” I tell her, sitting on the couch to slip on my tennis shoes.
She gapes at me. “It’s after ten o’clock. It’s late.”
“I’m a two-fifty-pound hockey player,” I remind her. “I’ll be fine.”
“Jord…”
She’s killing me.
I steel myself. It’s going to be like this for a while, holding back when I want to move our relationship forward, but I won’t let it change our friendship.
I promised her I would be here for her, and I will be.
She didn’t ask for me to admit my feelings and put us in this position. That’s all on me.
“I need the fresh air and some punishing physical activity. Otherwise I’m going to hop on a flight to hunt down Grayson Hollis, and the less you know, the better—you know, for plausible deniability.”
She presses her lips into a firm line. “He’s still in prison, and he will be for another ten years at least. Hopefully.”
I scowl. “Hopefully?”
She shrugs. “He’s filing another appeal. But my lawyers all assure me he doesn’t have a chance. It’s fine.”
It’s not fine, but I force my muscles to relax. “I’m sure they’re right.” I say it with total confidence. Her lawyers are probably very smart people. She always surrounds herself with the best.
She’s told me that’s why she hired me, but after what just happened—am I really the best for her?
She clenches her jaw, anger flashing in her eyes.
“They charged him with sex trafficking, along with kidnapping and assault. Because of who I was, he got a harsh sentence. My dad knows a lot of influential people, and he put pressure on people to make him an example since it was so high profile. Most the women I worked with before don’t get that lucky. ”
I lean over, ready to press a kiss to her forehead, but stop myself. We just said no kissing. I straighten. “He deserves every year and a hundred more, no matter who you are.” I take a step away from her, or I’ll be tempted again. “I’ll be back soon, and I promise not to get mugged or something.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I’m grateful not to encounter anyone else when I leave the house. I don’t want to have to also explain to Ellie or Will why I’m going for a run this late. Once I’m a couple blocks away, I call Baylee and let the call go to my earbuds.
“Since you are currently not making out with your wife, I guess that telling her your feelings didn’t go well?” Baylee says as soon as she answers.
“Did you know what happened to Libby when she was seventeen?” I ask, just as abruptly.
Baylee gasps. “Jordan. You didn’t?”
“No,” I bark. Then I lower my voice. It’s ten-thirty, and I don’t need to be drawing the neighbors’ attention either. “I didn’t.”
“Jordan Atkinson! How could you not know? It was all over the news. Everyone was talking about it. He was a football player for her dad’s team. Her family was posting all over social media, trying to find her.”
“I don’t know, Bay,” I say, frustrated. “I was in Arizona at the time. Maybe that’s why?”
“And you didn’t Google her when she gave you the ten million dollars and wanted to hire you?” Baylee sounds understandably exasperated with me.
“I Googled her firm and read about it. I … I didn’t think to look up stuff about her. I know that half the stuff on the internet isn’t true. It seemed like a waste of time.”
Baylee sighs. “So what happened?”
I relate how I told her my feelings, how she reacted, and how that led to telling me about Hollis when I didn’t already know.
“I guess it’s a good thing that she wants to trust you,” Baylee says tentatively.
“Yeah. Maybe.” I run a hand through my hair and pick up my pace.
So much helplessness courses through me.
I can’t help picturing a terrified, teenaged Libby in the hands of someone she should have been able to trust. It makes me want to tear something apart, break glass, anything but run in the dark and feel powerless.
There’s silence while I breathe heavily, pushing myself harder, and Baylee waits.
“I don’t know what to do,” I finally admit.
“You—”
“Don’t tell me to leave,” I jump in before she can suggest it. “I can’t. I can’t leave her.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Baylee snaps, sounding defensive. “I was going to say be there for her. Show her that you can be trusted with everything. Her life, her heart, her secrets, her respect, all of it.” Her voice quiets. “She’s going to figure it out. I know she will.”
I suck in breaths. I want to believe Baylee is right—that Libby will find a way to trust me wholly. Someday.
“Okay,” is all I can say.
“Okay,” she replies. I run for several moments in silence. “I love you, Jordan,” she says softly. “You did the right thing telling her. That’s what a stand-up guy does. And you did the right thing respecting her when she said no.”
It doesn’t feel right—yeah, I did the right thing, but my heart is splitting in two.
Running isn’t helping the anger still coursing through me that someone took advantage of Libby.
And not the capable, strong, take-charge woman I know.
Someone took advantage of a trusting, na?ve teenager, and he shattered her irreparably.
She may have healed, but those wounds will always leave scars.
But I have to control that anger, because the last thing she needs is some bozo like me going caveman on her.
“Love you too, Bay,” I finally say on a sigh. With that, I hang up, and I spend another hour running around upscale Denver neighborhoods trying to make sense of any of it.
When I’ve finally exhausted myself, I turn and jog back to Ellie and Will’s.
Libby is asleep as I quietly enter, already scooted to the center of the bed.
I want to slip into bed next to her and pull her into my arms, reassure myself that she’s completely safe.
That I will always be able to keep her safe.
Instead, I lock our door, take a shower, and fall asleep on the couch.