Mckenna stares straight at me. Her navy eyes bleed with an apology. With shame. “He raped me.”
Her words are clear. Sharp. Pointed like a knife that slices into the space between my ribs.
She didn’t have a nightmare. She relived a fucking trauma.
“When?” I whisper.
She swallows and arches her delicate neck. “You believe me?” Her voice is small, and I want to cry.
Wail and sob and pound my fucking chest. Claw at my skin and tear at my hair.
I want to fucking unravel right beside her.
But I don’t. I can’t. Because she needs me.
There’s no way in hell she’s conflating a nightmare with reality. No fucking way. I saw Mckenna’s reaction to Branson that night at The Ivy. Instantly, her past reactions snap into place, and the picture is clear.
Branson hurt Mckenna. He fucking traumatized her.
And she blocked it all out. She shut that shit down.
And now, it’s rushing back to the surface. It’s infiltrating the present.
It’s pouring out of her in tears and in nightmares. It’s making her question herself and wonder if anyone would believe her story. Believeher.
But why does she think I’d be one of the non-believers? She’s my wife.
“I do,” I promise. “I believe everything you tell me, Mckenna. And my heart is fucking breaking for you.”
Her face falls, and she drops her forehead to my chest again as more tears slip down her cheeks.
“It was my 1L year,” she admits. “This whole time, I knew. But I didn’t fully remember. I couldn’t piece it together.”
“That’s okay.” I run my palm over her back, trying to comfort her. “You’re remembering now.”
She shakes her head. “It’s awful, Mav. The morning after our wedding, it all snapped into place.”
I want to vomit. Marrying me made her recall being raped?
At this moment, I hate myself more than I thought possible.
“I don’t drink like that. Not since...not since that night,” Mckenna continues, unaware that her words plunge me into my own hell.
I continue to rub her back. Force myself to stay silent. To listen. Because she needs me, and after everything she’s been through, after everything I’ve put her through, I won’tnotshow up for her.
Not a chance in hell.
“Bran raped me,” she repeats, her voice stronger this time.
“I’m so fucking sorry, beauty.”
She pulls back to look at me. Meets my eyes, holds my gaze, and flips my world upside down.
“You’re the first person I’ve told, Mav.”
“I’m here for whatever you need, Mckenna. Always,” I swear to her. “Do you want to...talk about it?”
She regards me quietly for a moment. Then, she drags her fingers over her eyes, straightens her spine, and regains some of that confidence I love. She nods slowly. “Yes. I trust you, Maverick. I want to tell you everything because I want there to be a future for us. A real one.”