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“I was so scared. After we got back to Joel’s that night, I tried to focus on how so many women go through things like this and how thankful I was you were all there to save me, but I was scared. I mean his hand was—” She stops, voice trembling, and I pull her into my arms. I’m still trying to suppress my emotions, but I can’t do it. I force back sobs of my own. It kills me to see her suffer like this.
“I hate that you went through it. I wish I would’ve—”
“Don’t. Please. I need you not to take on the guilt. I’m trying not to, either. That might be the only thing I’ve done right—I haven’t blamed myself. But blaming him doesn’t help. It makes me feel angry and depressed that someone could be so awful. That he could do something like that. But I also feel—you touching me and holding me feels okay because we have that connection. You make me feel safe. Sarah does too. But the other day at Joel’s, Miles threw his arm around me by surprise, and I practically jumped out of my skin. Everything that happened made me feel like my body isn’t my own. I trust Miles with every part of me. But someone else touching me now makes me freak out. He violated—” She stops short, unable to get the words out, and I squeeze her tighter.
Her body melts into mine. I rub her back and stroke her hair, always keeping one arm wrapped around her. I sniff back tears, wanting to support her more than anything.
Slowly, her sobs subside. When she stops crying completely, I loosen my grip, but she grabs my shirt, pulling me closer. “Please, don’t let go.” Her voice wavers and I hold her closer.
“Okay, okay, I’ve got you. Always.”
“He violated my body, but he also violated more than that. My sense of self, how I relate to my body, how I see myself. I still feel him on me. Some days I want to peel my skin off. It’s awful,” she says against my chest. Then she lets out a big sigh. “I don’t know how to deal with it, that’s why I haven’t talked about it,” she says, finally pulling back from me. I leave my arms resting on her waist.
I’m quiet for a moment before finally asking a question Sarah and I have talked about a lot in the last few weeks. “Have you thought about talking to someone, like a counselor or something?”
Her eyes meet mine and she nods. “I thought about it a little. But I’m only seventeen and I’d have to… tell my parents.”
“Are you scared to tell them?”
“No. I know they’ll be so supportive, but—” She starts to cry again. “Imagining going through it all again… it guts me. Seeing their reaction…” She trails off, shuddering at the idea of it.
I understand why she feels that way. It’s not like I’ve told my parents about my hand. I could’ve made up a dozen excuses for how it happened, but I didn’t want to worry them. It still hurts sometimes, but it should heal.
Part of me was hoping she’d tell her parents, though. I think it would be a weight off her chest, but I can’t force it. So, I rub her back, and I tell her, “Then talk to me. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing. You call me, text me, walk into my room. I don’t care what’s going on. This is more important.”
She smiles softly at me, eyes filling with light again.
“You’d do that for me?”
I try to hold back my smirk, but can’t quite do it. “Beautiful, don’t you know I’d doanythingfor you?”
“I love you, Ace.” She leans up and squeezes me tight.
“I love you, too. Now, before we get up, is there anything else you want to say or tell me?”
She stares at me for a moment like she’s thinking about something else, but then she shakes her head and softly says, “I hate how I feel a lot of the time because it’s so… uncomfortable. But you make me feel safer. Thank you for being here for me.”
“I’m your person. I’ll always be here for you.”
She squeezes my hand and inhales deeply. “I feel a lot better now. Like my head feels clearer. And… I want to smile today—not in a fake way. I want to have one of those days where everything is fun and I can’t stop laughing.”
I pull her up from the bench and lead her back toward the sidewalk. “Let’s start with breakfast, then. I may need to call in some reinforcements later.”
There’s that vibrant smile again. “Sounds perfect.”
“Let’s go, Beautiful.”
I take her hand and start swinging it again until we’re both laughing hysterically.
She’s laughing and dancing across the deck at Joel’s house. Her eyes are bright—though tinged with sadness. I don’t expect it to be all better, but seeing her opening up again gives me hope that she’s ready to work through it—let us in. And for today, it feels good to see her genuinely happy.
At breakfast, I saw a flier for the county fair, so I thought it would be a good place to spend the day. We rode every ride twice and gorged ourselves on fries, tacos, and funnel cakes. After that, we came back to Joel’s, where everyone was waiting. They’d set up twinkle lights—which Rae is obsessed with—around the deck and ordered pizza and wings. The whole day was pretty perfect. It felt like we were living in a Luke Bryan song. It’s funny. I used to hate country music, but then I started really falling for Rae, and suddenly, I understood its appeal.
It’s dark now, and Joel is standing in front of a box of squirt guns with a giant smile on his face. He looks at Rae as he explains.
“I thought if there was a perfect way to cheer you up, it would be with a game of spy. Then I thought we should put a summer twist on it.”
Spy is a game we made up about six years ago when we first became obsessed with all things spy related. It started out with theSpy Kidsmovies but quickly grew with our love ofJames Bond, 24,andBurn Notice.
