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“It won’t,” he promises.
Sucking in a deep breath, I prepare myself for the rest of the story. I’ve tried to block it all out for years.
“He took my virginity. It was nice. So, don’t get any ideas. He didn’t rape me, but what he did afterward was… horrible.”
Preston hooks his arm around me, still shaking, and pulls me to him. I’m not sure who needs this hug most—him or me. He seems more on edge.
“It’s okay,” Preston says, softly against my ear. “You can tell me. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“He took pictures of me. I was naked in some of them. In my bra and panties in others. He said he would erase them from his phone. But he never did. Instead, he uploaded them to porn sites and social media.”
Preston grinds his teeth together, trying to hold it together. He looks like he’s about to Hulk Smash the desk into pieces. His eyes are watery, and I can see the pain in them. He really does care. That’s what makes our situation so complicated.
“My dad was able to get the pictures taken down from Instagram and the other sites because they violated child pornography laws. But some of the pictures are still out there on websites that don’t have to comply.”
“Why the fuck not?” he growls. “They shouldn’t be allowed to post your picture on a website without your consent. And you were a minor.”
“My dad tried. He sent complaints, talked to lawyers, and some of the sites refused to acknowledge our requests. The domains are registered in countries where there’s no jurisdiction. They can do whatever they want.”
Preston takes a deep breath, staring out the window. “I’ll find a way. Let me talk to my dad.”
“No,” I almost shout. “You can’t tell anyone, Preston. Please.”
“If there are naked pictures of my girl on the Internet, I have to do something about it.”
“I’m not your girl.”
He leans back in his chair, shoving his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “I’m not allowed to help you. So, what can I do? I have to do something. You shouldn’t have to live like this, knowing some pervert online is looking at you.”
“It’s not your responsibility, Preston. This is all my fault. I never should have allowed him to take the pictures.”
His face scrunches in anger… pain… sadness? It’s hard to get a read on his mood. He’s like a storm of emotions.
“This is not your fault, Bex. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I trusted the wrong person.” Another tear slides down my face. “I was so stupid.”
“No, you’re not.” He cradles me in his arms, his breath warming the top of my head. “I can’t believe Lehane did this to you. I’m going to kill him.”
“It’s not worth it.” I stroke his arm with my fingers. “Don’t do anything stupid for me.”
“I would do just about anything for you, Bex. That’s the problem.”
He has my heart. Regardless of the past, no one but Preston has the power to destroy it. My heart breaks, piece by piece, because I was never supposed to fall in love with him. He was never supposed to be mine.
Chapter Fifteen
Preston
My stomach clenches every time I look at another picture of Bex online. I have to get her pictures taken down from these websites. Seeing her in pain crushed me. No one should have to endure this.
I did a Google image search on a picture I took of Bex a few weeks ago and found seven images of her. She was naked in three, in a red bra and panties in the other four. It’s easy for me to understand why Coach Bryant has rules, ones Bex would have followed whether he told her to or not. But those rules were in effect before she started dating Kellan Lehane, which is why she feels so guilty about seeing me behind his back.
I scroll through the list of e-mails I’ve sent over the last two weeks, none of which have received a response from the webmaster. From what I’ve learned, they don’t have to comply. Removing an image is at the discretion of the domain owner. E-mail isn’t enough. Lawyers can’t help.
Lehane will pay for what he did the next time our teams cross paths. He’s a right winger for Boston College, where my grandfather coached years ago, and my father played in his day. The names John and Alex Parker mean something at that school.
Unsure if this is the right move, I lift my cell phone from the bed and call my dad.
“Hey,” my dad says on the second ring. “Everything okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never call this late. What’s going on?”
I look at the clock and realize it’s eleven-thirty at night. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to ask you something. Do you still have connections at Boston College?”
