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I leaned onto my desk, bracing my forearms. My head dropped between my shoulder blades. “That’s fine, Penelope. But you lied. Do you understand that? You just made up some version of events that did not even happen. For what? For my sympathy? My attention? Why did you fucking lie to me?” I straightened up and turned back at her. “For months!”
“Because I was afraid of this!” She waved her hands in between us. “Afraid that you’d think I was just a horrible, selfish, homewrecker fucking her professor to get ahead.”
I didn’t think that. I never would. I was disappointed in her decision, but it was clear that the guilt had been eating her alive. She wasn’t a selfish person. She wasn’t a horrible person. She made mistakes. What was killing me was her lies. That she had spent months fabricating a version of events that wasn’t true, all so she could hide that truth from me.
Because she didn’t believe that I could forgive it. That I could accept the darkest parts of her. I’d spent my entire life trying to convince her of exactly that. Trying to support her quietly. Protect her firmly. Love her in silence. In the last few months I thought I’d proven that love out loud. I just told her father I’d been supporting her in her quest to overcome her past, only for it to be shown that I knew nothing at all. How was I supposed to prove anything to her, to him, to anyone when I was being lied to? I thought I had shown her how deep those feelings ran for me. For us. I thought I had shown her that there was no force on earth—nothing she could do—that could stop me from loving her.
Yet, it wasn’t enough.
It made me wonder if it would ever be enough. IfIwould ever be enough.
I shook my head, pressing off my desk and turning to face her.
She couldn’t meet my eyes, her own dropped to the floor as she whispered, “That’s what I used to think about myself. Ihatedmyself. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I’m still tryingnotto hate myself. Still trying to understand and accept what really happened. What happenedtome.”
It broke me apart to hear that, but a deeper, darker part of my soul wondered whether or not it was another lie. That whisper of doubt destroyed me. “I don’t know what to believe right now.”
I saw her jaw tighten, and then her face crumpled entirely. Head falling into her hands, her chest began to heave with heavy sobs. The sound of it sent my stomach cascading into a bit of black. My instincts took over as I stepped to her. She had her arms crossed around her chest, her head dropped toward the floor as her hair covered her face. Her entire body vibrated with her cries as I lifted a hand to her chin and tilted her head to meet mine.
Watching the tears stream down her face pulled my own from me. I stretched my thumb up to her cheek, and wiped away the moisture beneath her eyes. She only breathed, her chest heaving as she slowly lifted her own hand and did the same with my tears. She moved that hand to the back of my neck, pulling me toward her.
Like the sea to the moon, I followed. No matter my anger, no matter my hurt, I was within her orbit. Drawn to her. She may compare me to the sun, but it was my world that revolved around her.
Her lips brushed against mine. She was trembling, and I was too. I deepened the kiss, noting the taste of salt on her mouth as our tears mixed together. I wanted to lay her down on my bed, I wanted to take away both of our pain. I wanted to wipe away the lies, wipe away her regret. I wanted to imprint myself into her body and her soul until she could understand how deep my love for her ran, but I still feared that even that wouldn’t be enough.
A strangled whimper clawed its way out of my throat as I pulled away from her. I couldn’t do it right now. I couldn’t kiss her. I couldn’t fuck her. I couldn’t breathe. I felt helpless. Helpless in my efforts to convince her I love her. To convince her she deserves it. I felt overwhelmed. I felt betrayed. Not by her actions, but by her lies. I felt like I was slipping beneath that wave, being flipped upside down and inside out.
I needed to find the surface again. I needed to find it on my own.
I dropped my forehead to hers, our breath still mingling though our lips no longer touched. “Penelope, you don’t fucking trust me. You couldn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. You didn’t have enough faith in me in us to believe that I’d love you through this. Because I would.” I blinked back the emotion I felt building in my eyes once more. “I know that’s not you, Penelope. I’ve known you your whole life, sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself. So, Iknowthat what you did was a mistake and not who you are. And I can love you through that, but it breaks my heart that you didn’t trust me enough to even let me try.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly constricting. “Even after everything. Everything we’ve talked about, everything we’ve been through our entire fucking lives, have I still not done enough to prove myself to you?” I let my hand drop from her cheek. “I don’t know what more I can do. I don’t know how this,” I pointed my finger between us, “could ever work if you don’t trust me.” I closed my eyes, my forehead still pressed against hers. “I just can’t do this right now, Pep. I need a second to process things.”
A shallow sob bubbled from her mouth, but I felt her nod against my skin as she stepped back from me. As if she was swallowing all the words she had left to say, I saw a lump move down her throat. She refused to meet my eyes as she brushed past me without another word.
I felt her presence disappear before I heard the door shut behind her. I braced myself against my desk again, feeling it all rise up my throat. I found the lamp I kept next to my computer flying across the room and shattering against the wall.
I think I threw it, but I’m not sure.
That numbness roared throughout my entire body, and I couldn’t be sure how long I stood there, staring at the broken lamp on the other side of the room before I heard a knock sound at my door again. I turned around and noticed the darkness behind the window shade, which meant I’d been standing there for a while.
The knock came again, and I could already tell it wasn’t her. The door opened just a fraction and I saw my father’s eyes peeking in at me. “Can I come in?” he asked.
I answered by slumping into my desk chair and turning it to face him. “I just don’t understand how she could’ve hidden this for so long. How she could’ve lied toeveryone.”
My dad’s face creased with confusion. He sighed, taking a seat on the couch next to me. “Carter, do you understand how common it is for victims of grooming to misinterpret their own experience? When someone is manipulated, especially for extended periods of time, it can be difficult for them to unravel the truth and the manipulation and–”
“What?” I asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He looked up at me, the same expression he held before. “I know that some people don’t consider it ‘grooming’ if the victim is over the age of eighteen, but that doesn’t change the fact that she was naive, inexperienced, and alone. She was the perfect target for a man like that. Being stuck in that environment for so many years…” He shook his head.
I pressed my hands to my eyelids as my pulse sped up. My skin felt tight over my bones, like I needed to get out of it. My breath was no longer in a normal rhythm. “What do you mean she was a target for a man like that? What does that mean? What are you talking about?”
“Were you not listening?”
I blinked at him as I thought back to everything that had been said in the last couple of hours. How Penelope referred to her trauma and the need to process it. Something she went through alone. I’d been so angry at her that none of those sentences had settled in me. The underlying message she was trying to convey.
But my father hadn’t been present for that conversation.
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth as I remembered. I remembered it.
