Page 58 of Bite Your Tongue

When I catch Tripp shooting me a glare, I know I’m not quite off the hook with him yet. I have nothing to tell him right now, and I’m not in the mood to discuss it either.

I guess I have to go to South Carolina.

Sipping our overpriced iced coffees, Gemma and I walk along the sidewalk in Charleston. I can’t believe my best friend is actually here. When she messaged me that she had landed and I needed to come pick her up, I almost cried tears of happiness because—let’s face it—after the few weeks I’d had … I needed my best friend.

Reaching out and touching a strand of my hair, she smiles. “I really do love your new hair.”

I fight back a cringe by taking a sip of my coffee.

I miss my blonde hair, but I’m trying to embrace my inner brunette now that I went nuts and landed myself in a hair salon with a stylist I had never met.

I told her to do anything she thought would look good, but my following words were, “I’m close to 2007 Britney. Do something before I shave my head.”

She went with a soft brown color and gave me curtain bangs and lots of layers. It sort of makes me feel like I belong in New York City, and while I don’t hate it, it doesn’t really feel like me either.

“Gee, thanks. I feel so … sophisticated now.” I give her a funny kissy-faced expression. “Not really actually. But I needed a change.”

Taking a seat on a bench, she pats the wood beside her, prompting me to plop down.

“So, whatcha think? Do you like Charleston?” I ask her.

“I’d like it more if we could find Craig and his pillows or visit Shep Rose at his bar,” she says honestly. Our love for Bravo TV runs deep. “Have you ever seen them out and about?”

“No, but truthfully, I’ve been working so much that I haven’t spent much time exploring Charleston.” I give her a wide-eyed look. “Craig does have his pillow shop now; we might need to pay him a visit.”

“Um … yes,” she says sharply. “It doesn’t matter if I like it though; you’re the one living here. All that matters is that you do.” She moves a bit closer toward me. “So … do you? Like living here?”

I chew my lip nervously, not really wanting to answer her because the more I’ve thought about it lately, the more I realize how much I miss Maine. My home. I think of the tattoo on my arm, brushing my fingertips against it through my hoodie.

And then, when I remember who picked it out for me, I have to stop myself from the eye roll that so badly wants to happen.

“I do,” I finally say. “The area is nice, the weather is great, and the food here is amazing.”

“But?” She instantly nudges me, knowing there is abutto my answer.

“But … it turns out, I can’t run away from my problems simply by moving to another state.”

We sit silently on the bench for a moment. I know we’re about to have one of those deep conversations that I only have with her.

Finally, I swallow. “Gem? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she whispers. “Always.”

It takes me a second to force the words out. Sometimes, it isn’t easy to talk about the deepest things that hurt to even think about, but I’m starting to realize keeping them in doesn’t do anything either.

“All that time you kept it from me that you were being abused, why did you do it?” The words roll from my lips, and right away, it’s clear that’s not what she expected me to say.

“I guess I was ashamed,” she admits, clearly humiliated. “It probably doesn’t make sense, but it was so hard to say the words out loud.” She speaks slowly, taking her time. “Before he turned into a monster, if someone had told me he’d abuse me and I’d stay for as long as I did, I would have told them they were crazy. But then I lived it. And … that changed.” Her eyes roam my face. “Why do you ask?”

I don’t know why I’ve kept my deepest, darkest secret from my best friend all this time. I’ve kept it from everyone. I guess that even though I’ve played it off to myself like it’s fine, I’m embarrassed. Mostly for trusting someone the way I trusted Rowan and look where it got me.

Then again, with Ryder, I went into it, telling myself to keep my guard up, and he snaked his way into my heart, only for me to find out he was no different from Rowan.

I force the words out. “I left Portland because He Who Should Not Be Named taped us having sex, and then … showed some of his teammates.”

Her eyes widen in pure shock—maybe because of what she just learned or simply because I usually tell her everything and I kept this inside.

Before she gets the chance to say anything, I know I need to finish explaining. “Smith doesn’t know that part. He just thinks thathewas an ass to me.” I pause. “I actually think he believes that I was used for sex and then tossed to the side. I was too mortified to tell him the truth.”

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