Erin
You know when you say a word so many times, it stops making sense?
It’s enough to make my head spin, and it has been — for two long weeks, I’ve done nothing but stew and steam and boil over thinking about one stupid word.
Dropped.
Or dropped, like the charges against Landon Turner and the three other men who raped me.
I’ve been through enough trauma in my life to know how the grieving process goes. I fully expected the anger, the denial, the painful sadness and despair. I knew I’d cycle through it all, and I have been, every waking moment since Candice called to tell me the news.
I heard her voice replaying in my nightmares, little snippets of jargon and disappointing phrases nestled between sincere apologies.
Due to lack of evidence…
If we’d have had a rape kit…
Their word against yours…
They had multiple witness testimonials…
There were videos and pictures taken that night that dispute our claimed timeline…
Clinton was your only witness…
Without evidence we can’t…
It’s all blurry. All of it. Even after formally meeting with Candice upon my return and going over it more thoroughly in person, all the details are lost behind the one bold statement I can’t fully process.
The charges against Landon and his brothers have been dropped.
They won’t go to trial. They won’t have to answer for what they did to me. They won’t have so much as a pencil smudge on their permanent record.
They’re free to go.
They’re free to live their lives.
They’re free to keep working at their jobs and dating their girlfriends — who likely don’t even know what they’ve been accused of.
They’re free.
It is the most jagged pill I have ever had to swallow.
I know I don’t look much better than I feel when Herb calls from downstairs to let me know Clinton has arrived. I light a few candles and pull a fresh bottle of wine from the fridge, lining up two glasses on the counter and uncorking the bottle to let it breathe.
Jess is spending the evening with Ashlei — likely trying to convince her that it’s time to tell Brandon what she discovered during our trip. The poor girl is so scared of his reaction that she’s taken four more tests since we returned home, all with the same result.
With Jess out of the condo, I have it all to myself, and I’m finally ready to see Clinton and tell him what happened.
Three firm knocks signal that he’s at the door, and when I open it, my tongue turns to sandpaper at what I see.
He looks just as devastated as me, bags under his bloodshot eyes and shoulders sagging.
Suddenly, all the fighting, all the silence after and the space I thought I needed from him to process feel like the most pointless, stupid waste of time.
My bottom lip wobbles, and that’s all it takes for Bear to rush through the threshold and crush me into his arms.
“I’m here,” he whispers into my hair, and I nod vigorously, clutching him tight as I reluctantly give in to emotion.
I don’t want to cry over them, over what they did to me — not anymore.
But I can’t deny that this hurts.
Clinton holds me until I give him the cue that I’m ready to go inside, and when I do, he takes my hand and guides me. Soft jazz plays from the small speaker in our kitchen, and that along with the candles set a soothing scene.
He drops the bag of food he brought on the kitchen counter, ignoring it as he pulls me over to the couch. He sinks down first, then guides me into his lap, holding me once more.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
“Stop,” he says, kissing my forehead. “It’s me who should be sorry.”
“I don’t have to see him anymore if it’s going to hurt you. Gavin,” I clarify. “I care about him, but I care about you more.”
“I’m not threatened by him.”
I lean back at that, arching a brow.
“Contrary to how I acted,” Bear adds with a sheepish smirk. “I was wrong. I trust you, and while I hate that Gavin ever got the pleasure of being with you, I know you’re mine now, and I also know he’s an important friend to you. I’m sorry I put you in that position and acted like a child.”
My brows fold together, and I shake my head in wonder. “You’ve really grown a lot in the time I’ve known you, Clinton Pennington.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had a few badass women in my life to slap me into shape along the way.”
I chuckle at that, and then with those apologies still dancing in our eyes, Clinton slides his palm along my cheek to frame my neck, and I lean into the touch on a content sigh.
Home.
The word flitters through me like a warm wind, and I blink my eyes open, smiling as I realize it’s not being here in this condo that makes me feel this way.
It’s being with him.
“I’ve missed you,” Clinton croaks.
I nod, leaning in to kiss him, and he wraps his arms around me even tighter.
“I have some news,” he says.
“I do, too.”
“You first.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather hear yours. Especially if it’s good, because mine is not.”
That makes him frown, but I smooth my thumb over the line between his brows.
“I’m okay. But you first,” I say again.
He sighs, and I know he wants to argue, but he refrains. Sitting up a little straighter, he covers my hand with his, fingers trailing the skin of my palm. “I don’t think there’s any slow and easy way to say this, so I’ll just get to the point.” His eyes meet mine. “I quit my job.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline.
“Well,” I say. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“Trust me — I didn’t expect it either. But I had a sort of… I don’t know. Awakening, maybe? While you were gone, and over the last couple of weeks that we’ve been apart. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and when I wasn’t mulling over how stupid I was to pick a fight with you over Gavin—”
“You’re not stupid.”
“—I was thinking over what comes next. For me. For us,” he adds, bringing my knuckles to his lips. A gentle kiss, and then he holds them there, his eyes on mine. “I went to the bank today and applied for a small business loan.”
My jaw drops. “Oh, my God, Bear.”
“And I got approved.”
That makes me jump off the couch. “Oh, my God!” The smile that splits my face is so big, so wide that it hurts a little as I yank Clinton off the couch and make him jump around with me. He laughs and picks me up with a spin, and when my feet are on the ground again, I slug him in the arm.
“Ouch!” He pretends it actually hurt, rubbing his arm.
“Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have gone with you!”
He chuckles, holding my arms in his hands. “I wanted to do it on my own. Besides… things have been strained between us. I thought maybe if I showed up with some good news, you’d forgive me easier.”
“I forgave you before you even thought to apologize.”
“And that’s just one of the many reasons why I love you.”
I blush, plopping back down on the couch and tugging Clinton to follow. “So, what does this mean?”
“It means…” He laughs, shaking his head.
“It means I have my own business. Or, well, I have the start of it, anyway. I found a few small retail spaces that I could potentially rent out for the studio. Now that I have my loan, and my business plan, I just need to get my website up and running, plan out a marketing strategy, get the studio set up with everything it needs and then…”
“And then make a million fucking dollars in the first year,” I finish for him.
He barks out a laugh at that. “I’m pretty sure that’s impossible as a personal trainer, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
“I’m going to help you. We’ll make videos for social media, and everyone will fall in love with you and be clamoring to get your time. It doesn’t have to be confined to just the studio, you know. You could have virtual clients.”
He frowns. “Virtual clients… I hadn’t even considered that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Want to be my VP?”
I scoff. “More like you’re the VP. I’ve always been El Presidente, babe.”
Bear smiles, his warm eyes searching mine as he leans in and presses a slow, soft kiss to my lips. “I can’t tell you how much it means to have you in my corner. I have no idea what I’m doing, so I’m going to need you. As per usual.”
“I’m here,” I promise.
“There’s one more thing I need to tell you,” Bear says with a sigh. “Giselle hit on me.”
I blanch. “What?”
“It was while you were gone. We were at the gym, went to the sauna after, and she started by asking why I was off. I thought she was just being there for me as a colleague, but then she had her hand on my thigh and was—”
“I’ll kill her.”
Clinton chuckles, squeezing my hand in his. “No need. I put her in her place. And then promptly quit.”
“Is that why you quit?”
“Partly,” he admits. “But not completely. I believe in this dream. Almost as much as I believe in us.”
I smile, shoulders deflating. “Well… I still want to kill her, but I also feel all warm and fuzzy knowing you handled it.”
Clinton leans in for a long kiss before he sits back, tapping my knee. “Your turn.”
My stomach sours, then, smile instantly slipping.
I can’t sit still while I talk about it, so I stand, pacing the living room for a moment before I finally say the words.
“The charges got dropped.”
A pause.
A breath.
And then a roar.
“What?!”
Bear jumps to his feet, his chest puffed, fists clenched.
“What the fuck do you mean, the charges got dropped?”
“Exactly what I said. They got dropped.” I wave my hand in the air. “Lack of evidence.”
“Lack of—” Clinton’s jaw drops, and then he smiles — a sadistic, twisted sort of smile as he shakes his head. He hangs his hands on his hips, tongue in cheek. “I’ll kill them.”
As if he’s going to do it right in this very moment, he stomps toward the door, and because I don’t trust that he’s kidding, I hook him around the elbow and pull him to a stop.
“It’s over, Bear.”
“Like hell it is. It’s not over until they’re all behind bars or dead. And since the first apparently isn’t happening…”
“Bear, please,” I plead, and he looks at me then, seeing the hurt in my eyes. “I’ve been agonizing over this for two weeks now. I don’t want to get angry again. I’ve finally come to accept it.”
“Two weeks? Erin, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why wasn’t I the first one you called?”