40. Wren #2
“So.” Dylan smears cream over her top lip as she takes a sip from her oversized mug. “What the hell happened with Lucian? Did he go berserk for no reason or…”
I chuckle, a broken little sound. “I wish. No.” I absorb the heat from my hot chocolate before confessing, “It was Isaac.”
“What was Isaac?”
I give her a look. I give her the look.
She gets it immediately, eyes going wide as she abruptly sits up straighter. “Oh. Oh! Wait. How do you know?”
Then I tell her everything. I tell her about the coin Silas has held on to all these years. How Isaac recognized it as his. The flashback I just had. All of it.
By the time I finish, the movie is halfway over, my hot chocolate has gone cold, and Dylan looks ready to commit murder.
“Well, now I’m annoyed I tried to pull Lucian off that fuckwit instead of helping him mush his brain matter into the ice.”
Despite everything, a laugh escapes me.
“He’s going to be in deep shit tomorrow, so just as well you didn’t dive in to help.”
She shrugs, clearly caring about repercussions as much as Lucian does.
Hockey players, I think with a roll of my eyes.
Dylan’s expression softens. “What are you going to do now?”
The question settles between us.
“Part of me wants to scream,” I admit aloud. “Or break something.” I laugh without humor. “And another part of me just wants this to be over.”
I pause, sighing heavily, before confessing, “But the truth is, what can I do?”
There won’t be a trial. There’s no evidence. There won’t be any justice. So what does that leave?
As though she gets it, Dylan simply nods. Shifting on the sofa, she moves to pull me into a hug.
“I think you do whatever is right for you. If that’s getting his kneecaps smashed in, then I’m your girl.
If it’s going to the police, then I’ll be right there with you.
If it’s putting all of this behind you and moving forward with your life, then I’m here for that too.
” She squeezes me closer. “Whatever it is you do, it has to be your choice.”
Hours later, the movie has long since ended. Dylan is asleep beside me, one arm hanging off the couch.
I haven’t been able to sleep yet, too busy replaying her words over in my mind, trying to figure out what I want. What I need.
I pull a blanket over her before settling back against the cushions and looking around the apartment. I smile to myself. Dylan hasn’t changed a damn thing.
Once upon a time, this apartment felt like my whole world. It was the only place I felt safe. Where I still felt like me. Now, that safety is no longer tied to a place. It’s tied to people.
Coming back to BSU doesn’t hurt the way I thought it would.
The memories are still here. The ghosts too. But they no longer own me, and maybe they haven’t for a while.
That knowledge…that’s what makes the decision for me.
With the first hints of dawn creeping across the sky, I let myself out of the apartment. The street is empty, washed pale beneath the early morning light. I shove my hands into the pockets of Lucian’s hoodie and walk aimlessly for a few minutes, letting the cold air clear my head.
Then I pull out my phone.
For a second, I simply stare at my father’s contact. My thumb hovers over his name before I press call.
“What the hell was your boyfriend thinking?!” my father yells the second he answers.
I close my eyes. Some things never change.
“Assaulting a teammate in the middle of a championship game. It’s all over the news and social media.
Half the league is talking about what happened last night.
The board is furious. I’ve been taking calls all night, people demanding I rip up his contract, and you know what? I have half a mind to do exactly that!”
A strange calm settles over me. For once, I don’t feel defensive. I don’t feel angry. I’m just tired.
“Dad.”
Despite the fact that he never seems to be listening to me, something in my voice must register, because he immediately stops talking.
The silence stretches.
I swallow hard. My throat feels tight.
“Lucian wasn’t attacking a teammate.”
Confusion enters his voice immediately.
“What are you talking about?”
I stare out across the empty street.
“He was defending me.”
My father lets out a short laugh. It’s not an amused sound, but one of disbelief. He sounds exasperated when he snaps, “Defending you from what?”
I close my eyes. My dad is the last one I want to be having this conversation with, but despite my last name, I don’t have the power he has. I can’t do what I need him to do.
It might be pointless to go after Isaac legally, but I can still hit him where it hurts.
“Isaac Evans.”
“You’re not making any sense,” he barks irritably. “I don’t have time for this nonsensical babble.”
I normally shrink beneath my father’s impatience, but today…
…Today I grow angry.
“Isaac raped me,” I snap right back at him, taking a little bit of pleasure from the penetrating silence that resonates from the other end of the line. It stretches long enough that I check my screen to make sure the call hasn’t dropped.
It hasn’t.
For once in his life, my father is completely speechless.
When he finally finds his voice, it sounds different. Harsher than I’ve heard it before. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Isaac raped me.”
There’s something freeing about finally being able to say that aloud.
Another silence follows.
“Are you sure?”
Ouch. My dad sure knows how to show he cares.
Officially out of patience, I snip, “I wouldn’t be calling if I wasn’t certain.”
It’s not an answer, but it’s the only one he’s getting. I don’t want to talk about that night or the years in between. I don’t want to talk about any of it—especially not with my father.
More penetrating silence where I wait to see if he will show an ounce of humanity for his daughter.
I’ve heard my father command boardrooms. I’ve heard him boss players around. However, when my father next speaks, there’s a steeliness in his voice that I’ve never heard before. Even when my father is angry, he is controlled, but now…he doesn’t sound in control.
“What do you need from me?”