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“D-Dad.” Ryan gasps, looking over at me as he stumbles forward, taking big, heaving breaths. “How far?”
“Two miles,” I tell him. “Keep running.”
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Molly
I wake to somebody knocking on my door. I try to bury deeper into the dream. I was nuzzled into Duke’s back, my arm wrapped around him, my hand resting against his hard abs as he breathed softly. None of the nastiness last night happened. No revelations. Nothing about Ryan or his dad.
“Molly?” It’s Rachael. “Hellloooo?”
I stand, rubbing sleep from my eyes, then walk across the room. There’s this buzzing at my core, a general hum of anxiety as if my instincts still expect an armed man to appear and force me to go with him suddenly. Rachael is beaming at me when I open the door, still wearing her clothes from last night, her mascara streaked.
“I have just done the walk ofpride,” she says, laughing as she strides into the room, still amped up from her hookup last night.
“The date went well, then?” I ask, closing the door behind her.
“It was magical. It was so much fun. We’re getting dinner together later.” She sits on the beanbag, grinning up at me. “How was your…” Her grin falters when I burst into tears.
It’s like I’ve been waiting to see my friend to let all this out. When I rode the cab back last night, I felt so numb. It was like a survival mechanism, closing off my feelings so I wouldn’t have to face them. Now, Rachael jumps from the beanbag and rushes over, pulling me into her arms.
We end up sitting on the bed. I haven’t cried like this in years. It’s just everything. I can’t even explain it. It’s like life is stamping on my neck. I bury my face in her chest, hoping I’ll be all cried out soon, but the tears keep coming.
“What did he do to you?” she whispers, stroking my hair.
“It’s… it’s… it’s…”
Oh, dammit. I can’t keep it together long enough to finish my freaking sentence. I cry some more, maybe as long as five minutes, just lost in it, gulping sobs, eyes stinging, skin all puffy and itchy from the tears. Finally, I lie on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.
Rachael lies next to me, our shoulders touching. “We can talk if you want,” she says. “Or we can just stay like this. Whatever you want.”
I take a long breath and force myself to sit up. “It’s a long story,” I explain, “and it’s pretty nuts. You might not believe it.”
She takes my hand. “Try me.”
* * *
When I finish explaining, Rachael stares at me with her mouth open. “All of that inone night?What happened to those thugs? What did the cops say?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “We just got out of there fast. We didn’t call the cops.”
She narrows her eyes. “You probably should have.”
“I know,” I groan, “but Duke didn’t say anything about it. Maybe he doesn’t want Ryan to get into trouble.”
“Oh yeah, got to protect the precious prince.”
“He’s still Duke’s son,” I say.
Rachael tilts her head, confused. “I don’t care if he’s the president’s son. The way he treated you was unacceptable.”
“I knowthat,” I reply, “but maybe he can change. He’s still young.”
“He’s our age, Molly. He’s not some little kid who doesn’t know any better.”
“Yeah, but I had to grow up fast. You know, because of Dad. You had to grow up fast, too.”
Another reason Rachael and I bonded so well in college—and probably a reason we both had a hard time making friends in high school—is that we both had difficult home lives, and that’s putting it mildly.
