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I drop my towel in the hamper and Xander gives a sleepy yawn. “Hey,” he says, his voice thick.
“Morning.” I walk over to the bed and sit down, stretching my legs out.
He leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips. He smiles crookedly but quickly sobers. “How are you feeling?”
“My face feels like I took a meat mallet to it, but other than that, I’m fantastic.” I smile.
He chuckles. “You’re hysterical.”
“I try.” I laugh and he grabs my hips, pulling me closer. My laughter intensifies and I end up in his lap, straddling him. I place my hands on his firm chest, and his skin is so warm it nearly burns my palm.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt,” he whispers, touching his fingers delicately to my tender skin. I did a good job of covering it up with foundation and concealer but some spots were impossible to hide completely.
“It’ll heal,” I whisper back, entwining my fingers behind his neck and leaning my forehead against his.
He presses his palm to my chest, right over my heart. “Will this heal?”
I nod. “Eventually.” I press my lips together and then admit, “I hope I never have to see him again. I know it’s wrong to say this, but I hate him. I hate him for what he did to Cade, to me, to my mom, and I hate him even more for the act he put on to everyone else like he was this great guy when it was nothing but a lie. He was a monster hiding in plain sight, and it’s scary to think about how many others are out there like that.”
Xander nods, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “Yeah, it is scary,” he agrees.
I have had enough serious talk so I press a kiss to his lips and slip from the bed. “I’m going to grab some coffee. You want any?”
He shakes his head. “Not right now.”
I nod and head downstairs, fixing the coffee since no one else is up yet.
Prue comes down and gives a little whine so I put her leash on and take her down the street. On the way back, I grab the newspaper from the box and take a look at it as I walk back up the driveway. One article causes me to pause.
Local Football Hero Victim of Years of Physical Abuse
“Oh, shit,” I whisper. Then think to myself, how? How does the news know about this already? Then it clicks. “Stan,” I hiss.
Stanley Berk went to high school with Cade and then went off to college for journalism. I remember him working for the high school newspaper and he was always doing these revealing articles on his fellow classmates. The guy was a leach.
Sure enough, I search for the author of the article, and the name Stanley T. Berk stares back at me.
I head inside with Prue and let her off her leash, then sit down at the table so I can read the article.
Yesterday, on a beautiful July Fourth evening, it came to light that our local football hero, Cade Montgomery, has been living a secret hell. His father, a man we always assumed was a kind and supportive man, physically abuses him. On this night, his sister, Thea Montgomery, stepped in the way and got hurt, and was subsequently taken to the hospital. At this time, we do not have an update on her injury, but as I was a witness, I can attest to the fact that it was a bloody scene. After his sister was carried off, Cade Montgomery revealed to the group of us that his father has abused him since he was very young. For all of you that have wondered why Cade Montgomery didn’t go pro and follow the path we all thought was destined for him, I think we finally have our answer. I’m hoping to acquire an interview with Cade and his sister to follow up this article.
I sigh heavily. Fucking Stan.
If this is already in the newspaper it will soon be online everywhere and it will be a big deal with the star power Cade had on his college team. He only recently graduated. He still matters to so many people and they’ll be heartbroken and livid to find out their star player has been subjected to abuse his whole life.
I push the newspaper away. I can’t think about it right now.
I pour myself the cup of coffee I originally came down for and add enough cream and sugar to put an elephant in a coma.
I head upstairs and back into my room.
Prue is already on the bed again and Xander is sitting up, his hair a mess.
“I think we should stay in bed and watch TV all day,” he declares.
“Sounds good to me,” I agree, climbing in bed.
