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She rests her head on my chest again, snuggling into me, and my thoughts reel with this latest information. There’s no way she’s talking about me. We haven’t uttered those three words yet because neither of us are ready. So, not only did Cat tell me she’s been in love before, but she also practically admitted to still being in love with him.
“So, what’s this guy’s name—the one you fell in love with? Maybe he and I need to have a little chat,” I tease, though I’m seriously wondering if this is an issue.
She chuckles, elbowing me in the side. “That won’t be necessary. It was more of an unrequited love.”
“Not possible.” I nuzzle her neck, placing a quick kiss there. “I bet this dude is somewhere pining over you right now.”
She moans with contentment. “Not likely, trust me.”
“And what about you?” I let out a long breath down her neck. “Should I be worried?”
She shakes her head. “No way, you’re the only person occupying my thoughts these days.”
“Good to hear,” I say, nibbling her ear.
She lets go of my hand and reaches up to run her fingers through my hair instead. “You know, I think you might be changing Lori’s perspective on love.”
I lift my head, and she meets my gaze. “Me?”
“Yep.” She smirks. “I think you’ve won her over. She even referred to us as an epic love story once.”
I force a smile on my face as my gut twists, Lori’s words that day in my truck replaying in my mind. She pushed me away believing she wasn’t good enough or right for me, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. She was then, and she is now, only I may never get the chance to tell her that.
12
Lori
2 Months Ago
My face is numb as I watch my baby sister wipe the tears from her face. I don’t blink. I think my lungs have forgotten how to take in air, my brain no longer capable of forming words. Or maybe it’s simply refusing to process Julianna’s confession. Doing so could result in a breakdown of my own, and I need to be strong for her.
Julianna was raped her freshman year of college. Raped. How can this be real? I’ve seen the statistics. I know every ninety-eight seconds an American is sexually assaulted. But it still doesn’t seem possible that both of us could be victims.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I shift uncomfortably on her couch as my eyes bounce around her apartment. There are still unpacked boxes laying all around—something I would normally pick on her about. The setting sun catches my attention, my eyes landing on the sliding doors leading to her balcony. When the streaming light begins to burn, they snap back over to Julianna.
“Are you going to say something?” Her sad eyes meet mine, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself together.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.
That seems to be one of the first questions people want to ask victims of sexual assault or abuse, but I know better. She didn’t need to explain why she stayed silent. I know all too well the fear and shame that keeps you that way.
“Maybe because I didn’t want you to make it about you,” she clips. “This isn’t about you. It didn’t happen to you. It happened to me.”
I nod, my chin quivering slightly as I clear my throat. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said that.”
Her features soften, and she sighs. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but this is hard. I’ve been afraid of telling you for so long. It’s why I’ve been distant. I was terrified you’d be able to see that I’d changed. If you did, you might’ve figured out why. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone knowing this about me. I felt dirty, stupid, and ashamed.”
My chest tightens, my eyes filling with tears. Everything she described is exactly how I’ve always felt. I know I should tell her. But I can’t.
I wipe a stray tear off my cheek. “Can I ask why you’ve decided to tell me now?”
She nods, her eyes falling to her lap as she picks at her fingernails. “It’s part of my therapy, or my healing, I suppose.”
“You’re seeing a therapist?” Again, my tone sounds judgmental and accusing, and I want to kick myself.
“Yes. Dr. Gentry believes the more I’m able to talk about what Jim did to me, the freer I’ll feel from it.”
“Jim?” I press, wanting nothing more than to find the fucker and kill him.
