Chapter 14
Mars
The knock surprised me.
I hadn’t been expecting anyone.
My hair was piled in a lazy bun that barely held itself together.
I was wearing the soft gray sweatpants I always stole from the back of my closet and a sweatshirt two sizes too big.
My laptop was open on the coffee table, some half-finished work staring back at me while a romantic comedy played in the background mostly for noise.
Atlas had claimed his usual throne on the couch.
When I opened the door and saw Jalen standing there, holding flowers and a takeout bag, my brain needed a second to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.
Of course he would show up looking unfairly good.
Of course.
“How did you get past security?” I asked, trying not to stare.
He lifted the bag and flowers slightly.
“I came bearing gifts.”
I smelled the food immediately.
My nose lifted before I could stop it.
“Do I smell Gutters?”
He laughed.
That warm, relaxed laugh that made my heart flutter.
“Maybe.”
I took the bag from him and walked toward the kitchen, pretending I wasn’t suddenly very aware that he had shown up at my home with food and flowers like we were some normal couple.
Which we weren’t.
I kept reminding myself of that.
We were supposed to be pretending.
But my stomach had still flipped when I opened the door.
I pulled two plates from the cabinet and started dividing up the sliders and fries.
I could feel him watching me.
Like he noticed things.
My shoulders. My hands. The way I moved.
“Okay,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “I’ll ask again.”
I set his plate down.
“What are you doing here?”
And when he said he wanted to talk about the other night, my first thought was immediate.
Nia.
I knew it.
That damn woman.
But once he started explaining about the bottle girls, something inside me softened.
I hadn’t realized how much that stupid bathroom conversation had bothered me until he cleared it up.
And when I thanked him, I almost reminded him again that we weren’t actually together.
Except he cut me off.
Don’t remind me.
That moment had thrown me.
Then he said the thing I definitely hadn’t expected.
What if I don’t want it to be pretend?
I had spent three days convincing myself this whole situation wasn’t real.
That the attraction was just proximity and the chemistry was just good acting.
And suddenly he was standing there telling me he might want more.
Which was exactly what I had been trying to avoid.
When he stood and walked toward me, my body reacted before my brain did.
I froze.
Not out of fear.
Just awareness.
When he took my hand and kissed my palm, something warm ran up my arm and settled in my chest.
“I know you feel what I feel, Amara,” he said quietly.
My name.
Not Mars.
Amara.
That one word made everything feel a little more real than I was comfortable with.
And when he leaned in like he was about to kiss me…
My phone rang.
Of course it did.
My dad’s name flashed across the screen with a picture of us hugging from last Thanksgiving.
I stepped away to answer it, trying to sound normal while my heart was still doing gymnastics in my chest.
“Hi, Dad.”
His voice boomed through the speaker like it always did.
“You home?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I laughed softly.
“Relax.”
I could feel Jalen watching me from the kitchen while I talked.
“I will,” I told my dad before hanging up. “I’ll let someone know you said hi.”
When I walked back in, Jalen was leaning against the counter smiling.
“My dad says hi,” I told him.
He laughed.
“See? Dad’s approval already.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What?”
“Minus well just get married.”
“Hush.”
He grinned like he liked hearing me say that.
And something about the way he looked at me made my chest feel tight in a way I didn’t entirely understand.
We ended up moving out onto the balcony.
My patio chairs were oversized and ridiculously comfortable, the kind you could sink into and forget the world existed.
Houston stretched out beneath us.
Lights everywhere.
The night air warm and soft.
At some point the beers turned into whiskey.
Neither of us acknowledged the transition.
The conversation we had started in the kitchen hung quietly in the air between us.
Unfinished.
But instead of picking it back up, we started talking about everything else.
Childhood stories.
“How many fights did you get into growing up?” I asked.
He looked offended.
“I did not fight.”
I stared at him.
“You’re six-foot-four.”
He shrugged.
“Okay… maybe a few.”
I laughed.
“What happened?”
He leaned back in the chair.
“One kid said my mom packed weird lunches.”
“What was weird about them?”
“She used to send leftover fish and rice.”
I laughed harder.
“You beat someone up over fish and rice?”
“I defended my mother’s cooking,” he corrected.
“Oh boy,” I said with a laugh.
At some point he told me about the time he tried to dunk in middle school and fell into the bleachers instead.
I told him about the time Cal tried to teach me to ride a bike and I crashed into a mailbox.
We laughed until my stomach hurt.
And somewhere between stories and whiskey, the tension between us softened into something easier.
Then he asked a question that made the night slow down again.
“Why don’t you like going out much?”
I hesitated.
The city lights flickered below us.
For a moment I considered brushing it off.
But the whiskey had warmed my chest and Jalen had this way of looking at me like he actually wanted the real answer.
"There was... an incident," I said quietly.
The words came out so softly that I almost hoped the breeze would carry them away before he heard them.
Jalen's expression changed immediately, and the warmth that had been in his eyes moments earlier was replaced with quiet concern as he turned his full attention toward me.
"What kind of incident?"
I wrapped both hands around my wine glass and stared out at the Houston skyline, trying to find the right place to begin.
"It happened a few years ago," I said after a long pause. "Cal had just started making a name for himself with his sports podcast, and I managed to get him an interview with someone he had admired for years."
Even now, remembering how excited my brother had been that day made my chest ache.
"After the interview ended, we were invited to an exclusive house party to celebrate. Everyone who was anyone seemed to be there, and I remember thinking how proud I was watching Cal walk around introducing himself to people he had looked up to for most of his life."
I swallowed hard before continuing.
"The man who invited us was well known. People respected him. They trusted him. He was the kind of person everyone wanted a picture with, and I never questioned whether I was safe because I assumed someone surrounded by that many people couldn't possibly be dangerous."
Jalen never looked away from me.
He remained completely silent, allowing me to continue whenever I was ready instead of trying to rush me through the hardest part.
"At one point, Cal was pulled away by one of the other guests, and I slipped upstairs to use the bathroom. When I finished and reached for the door, it wouldn't open."
I felt my fingers tighten around the stem of my wine glass.
"When I turned around, he was standing there."
The memory settled over me with a weight that still hadn't lessened after all these years.
"I told him I needed to leave because my brother was waiting for me, but he wouldn't move. I remember trying to convince myself there had been some misunderstanding, but the moment he smiled at me, I knew there wasn't."
My voice trembled despite every effort to steady it.
"He raped me."
The words seemed to settle between us, and for several long seconds neither of us spoke.
Jalen's jaw tightened as he looked away toward the city, and I watched his hands slowly curl into fists before he forced them to relax again.
"Who was it?" he finally asked, his voice calm even though I could hear the anger beneath it.
I slowly shook my head.
"I can't tell you."
"Amara."
"I know what you're thinking," I said quietly, "but I don't want to spend the rest of my life reliving that night in courtrooms and depositions.
Cal wanted to go after him years ago, but I couldn't do it then, and I still can't do it now.
I just want to bury that part of my life and leave it where it belongs. "
Jalen looked at me for a long moment before speaking again.
"It may belong in your past," he said softly, "but the man who did that to you does not deserve to keep walking through life as though nothing ever happened."
His voice remained steady, but I could hear the anger simmering beneath every word.
I looked down at my hands.
"It was Darren Hill."
For a moment, Jalen didn't react.
He simply stared at me as though he hadn't heard me correctly.
"The Darren Hill?"
I nodded once.
The color drained from his face.
His jaw tightened so hard I thought he might break a tooth.
I watched his hands curl into fists before he slowly forced them back open against his knees.
"No," he whispered, almost to himself.
I nodded again.
He stood abruptly and walked a few feet toward the edge of the balcony.
I could see him trying to steady his breathing as he ran both hands over his face.
"I grew up looking up to him," he said. The pain in his voice broke something inside me.
He turned toward me, and I had never seen him look so devastated.
Tears filled my eyes as I reached for his hand and his fingers immediately intertwined with mine.
"I need you to promise me something," I said quietly.
His eyes met mine immediately.
"What?"
"You cannot tell anyone."
His expression hardened.
"Amara..."
"I mean it."
He searched my face, waiting for me to change my mind.
He looked away for a moment before rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
"They deserve to know."
"Maybe they do," I admitted. "But that's my decision to make."
He nodded once, although I could tell every part of him disagreed.
"I don't want my family reliving that night all over again. I don't want my name attached to his in every headline. I don't want people debating what happened to me on television or online."