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Willow looked over slowly and our eyes met, our gazes locked. I froze. The weight of three years suddenly felt impossible to carry any longer. So heavy. Everything fell away as she stood up and left the protective circle of Angie and her mom.
I walked toward her and she walked toward me, until we were face-to-face.
Her eyes swept over me, her fingers tentatively reached up to touch one bleeding cut at my lip, another at the corner of my eye.
“Isaac,” she whispered.
“Hey, baby.”
She looked so beautiful. Pale but composed. I could’ve cried because her eyes weren’t full of anger or hate, but full of love. She still loved me.
“You’re here?” she whispered.
I swallowed hard. “I’m here.”
Her eyes fell shut for a moment, and her lips parted with a little sigh of relief only I could hear, even as her brows came together. I could feel the questions and the hurt rising in her. She still loved me, but this moment was only the beginning of whatever was left of us.
Xavier tore out of the bathroom door as the police came in from the front. He waved them over, shouting and clutching his throat and gesturing frantically at me. Everyone turned to stare.
“Arrest that guy. He attacked me in the bathroom. He tried to fucking kill me.”
Calmly, Willow left me and walked over to Xavier. I itched to grab her hand, pull her back to safety but I let her go. Watched as she moved to stand in front of him. She tilted her chin, raised her hand, and slapped him across the face. Hard.
The sound was like a gunshot, reverberating through the crowd, sending ripples of gasps and murmured exclamations.
Xavier’s head whipped at the force of it and a red handprint inflamed his cheek immediately
“You fucking bitch,” he seethed, eliciting more gasps. “It’s over. Your precious theater? Gone. I—”
“Yes, it’s over,” Willow said, her voice impossibly calm. “At long last. It’s over.”
She turned her back on him and walked to me, took my hand, and led me back to her parents and friends. Marty and Brenda were at the table now too, everyone gaping.
“Isaac, these are my parents, Dan and Regina. Mom and Dad, this is Isaac Pearce. Three years ago, he helped save my life. I got drunk and told him a story. Then I told Angie that story, and I told Bonnie that story. Now I’m going to tell you. Isaac never hurt me. Never. You caught him sleeping in my bed with me and threatened to have him arrested. You had the wrong boy. It was Xavier. The summer before my senior year, I threw a party when you two were away. And at that party, Xavier Wilkinson raped me.”
I watched the truth spread from her lips. A poisonous vapor she’d had to keep inside for three years, afraid of how it would affect everyone she loved. Her dad’s hard expression crumbled to shock and horror. Her mother’s pale face went white. Regina squeezed her eyes shut, then gave a soft, agonized cry as she rushed at Willow and held her.
“Oh, baby. Oh my baby. My sweet girl, I’m so sorry…”
She hugged her, stroked her hair, released her, crying, her hand pressed to her mouth, shaking her head over and over again. Angie and Bonnie closed in on either side of Willow as Xavier, who’d been huddled with his parents, crossed over, bringing the police with him.
“That’s the one,” he said, pointing at me. “Arrest him.”
“Did you do this?” one of the officers asked me, gesturing at the finger marks stark on Xavier’s throat.
“He did,” Xavier said. He turned to another guy who I recognized from the bathroom. “You saw it, right?”
The guy nodded. “Had him pinned to the ground.”
The officer took in my bruised and bloody face, my swollen knuckles, and nodded at his partner. They turned me around and tugged my arms behind my back, readied the handcuffs.
Chaotic shouting rose up from all sides.
“What are you doing?” Angie cried. “Isaac was defending Willow. He isn’t the one—”
Marty held out his hands for calm. “Now, hold on one second, officers…”
Ross Wilkinson’s voice rose above them. “Daniel, what in God’s name is going on here?”
