“One day he asked me to stop by after class to talk about a paper I’d written. I was flattered. I thought maybe he saw something in me. Maybe I was finally good enough to matter to someone in that world.”
I swallowed hard.
“When he asked me to come by his office. I didn’t think twice.”
Her face pales and her hands begin to shake.
“When I got there, he closed the door. He said he wanted to help me with my paper I submitted, and that it needed some work if I was to get a good grade. And then… he said he liked how I wrote about longing. Said he could tell I understood what it meant to want something I couldn’t have.”
My jaw tightened, but my hand slowly reached for hers.
She let me hold it.
“He put his hand on my knee. And then higher. I froze. I laughed, at first. That awkward, nervous laugh you do when you’re trying to convince yourself you misread the room. But I hadn’t.”
Her voice cracked. “He laid me down on his couch in the corner of his office. He pressed his body against mine. Whispered things I can’t even repeat. And the worst part is, I didn’t fight him. I just laid there, frozen.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but I stayed still, listening. I couldn’tbelieve she carried this for so long.
“He made me feel like I was something to consume. Something small. And afterward, he smiled like it was normal. Like I was lucky he picked me.”
She blinked at the floor, hollow. “I dropped his class the next day. I packed my things. I told my parents I was done and when they didn’t understand, when they didn’twantto understand, I left for good.”
A beat passed. Then another.
I gently tugged her closer. I wrapped my arms around her like I was trying to stitch all her broken pieces back together with my touch.
“I believe you,” I said into her hair.
“I know,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m telling you.”
And I let her cry for the girl she had been. For the voice that man tried to steal. For the voice that, finally, she was reclaiming.
“You matter,” I said. “And if you ever need to fall apart, you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
She leaned into me, arms around my waist, forehead pressed to my chest. And I held her, silently promising I’d never let go.
Chapter 17
Blair
I didn’t realize how much I’d been holding in until I told them.
They didn’t cry. They didn’t interrupt. They just listened. And somehow, that was worse.
Later that night, I curled up on Madison’s couch, clutching a mug of cider that had long since gone cold. My mind was replaying everything. Every word. Every look.
And then Greyson showed up.
I hadn’t expected him, but the second I saw him, something in me broke wide open. The fact that he even came, that he knew what happened and didn’t look at me with pity or disgust, just steady, fierce care. I let him in without hesitation.
Now, the early afternoon sunlight crept through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the room. I sat at Madison’s kitchen table in one of her oversized flannels, still feeling the echo of his arms around me.
Madison waddled in and immediately reached for the kettle.
“You okay?” she asked, watching me with one eye.
I nodded slowly. “Actually… yeah. Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”
