Page 47 of Saving Barrette

He stares at me, our breathing harsh and uncontrolled. His eyes water, his jaw clenches, and his brows pinch. He’s struggling and wanting to say so much more, but settles on, “Please, for me, fucking report it.” He’s begging. “Do it so we can have closure.”

We’ve been over this for the last year and a half. He wants me to file the report. I want to forget it even happened. “For you, or me?”

“Us,” he snaps. “Us. I was there, Barrette. Yeah, I didn’t experience what you went through, but I’ve been there every step of the way for you, and you can’t say that I wasn’t. I saw firsthand what they did to you. Wouldn’t you want them to pay for what they did?”

I can’t stop from crying now and whisper, “If you want to break this off so you can see other girls, you can. I won’t be mad.” It’s not what he was implying, but I don’t know what else to say.

“Goddamn it. That’s not at all what I’m saying. I don’t want anyone but you.”

I’m not hearing anything he says. In my head, I’m on the after and trying to push away the pain. “If I’m too much for you, here’s your out.”

“I can’t,” he says, reaching for me. His head dips, catching my eyes. “I can’t leave you alone. It’s impossible for me. I love you and I’m here. Like it or not, I’m fuckin’ here.”

My tears wet my face and I think I’m shaking, but I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore other than this room feels a thousand times smaller than it did ten minutes ago. I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. “You can let go, Asa. And you should.”

He holds me against his chest securely and I can feel the tension rolling off him. “It doesn’t work that way. I love you. Don’t you see that? I can’t just walk away.”

The truth is, he’s dying too, and I feel it. It’s radiating from him. I’ve shattered the innocence in his heart. It’s in his violent posture when I see him and the way his hands shake when he reaches for me. “You can, and I won’t hold it against you.”

And then he gives me his truth, for once. “I wish… that I could.”

I pull back, afraid of what I’m going to say next, but I say the words I’ve been thinking for seventeen months. His eyes are on mine, a storm of emotions on his face, but anger the most prominent. “I wish you would have left me to die.”

His eyes narrow, his breaths coming hard and fast. He drops his hold, his eyes roaming over my face. His hand rises to my cheek, his thumb brushing over the scar. His hands are protective and good, and everything he is inside, and I hate that it’s not enough. His eyes are frantic, and I know I’ve scared him. For several seconds he waits before speaking. “And I would have died, too.” He closes his eyes and exhales a shaky breath.

He’s hurting, too, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to make it better because the one thing he wants from me—I can’t give him.

“Barrette,” he says in a pained whisper. “Damn it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and pull away. “I can’t give you closure, Asa.”

He exhales slowly, his voice is pleading when he whispers, “I know.”

Reaching for Roman’s sweatshirt, he kisses me once and then he leaves, the door closing softly behind him. Tears of shame hit me. Why can’t I just be better for him… for me?

I beat my hand against Roman’s dorm room door. I tell myself, don’t kill him. Your chance at going pro is over if you do, but it’s tempting. It’s so fucking tempting I imagine it in my head. It sits there and stirs. I find pleasure in it. Look, I’m mad. Not at her, okay, maybe a little, but Roman, I’m fucking furious with him.

He opens the door and immediately groans. “What?”

I slam his sweatshirt into his chest with my fist. “If I ever hear about you alone with her again, I’ll break your fucking face.”

His jaw snaps closed. “I’d like to see you try,golden boy.” And then he smirks, a bitterness to the end of his words. “What, are you afraid she’ll be on my dick soon? What makes you think she hasn’t already?”

Don’t react. Don’t!

I know Barrette hasn’t been with him. She wouldn’t. That’s not what I’m upset about. I’m mad he had the nerve to say something so derogatory about her knowing damn well what she went through. How could he? Why would he?

Because he’s fucking Roman, and pussy is the only thing that matters to his pathetic ass.

Anger hits me so hard I can barely stand. His words, they’re off. They hold meaning and power. They’re vindictive and push venom into my veins. It courses through me, stirs to life and takes every single ounce of self-control I have not to snap his neck. I doubt I could, snapping someone’s neck certainly doesn’t sound easy, but God, I want to. I shove him back against his door, my fists gathering up the front of his shirt. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He laughs again, and Codey surfaces from the room, a beer in his hand, along with two more of our running backs on the team. They try to break it up, as does campus security who suddenly surfaces out of nowhere.

They pull me away from him, threaten to call the coach, but I raise my hands and back up, shaking with pent-up frustration. Behind them in their room, I notice a girl on the floor, naked, sleeping. Something about the way there are four men in that room, alone with her bothers me. I look at security, and then Roman. I eye the security guard holding me back and point inside the room. “Do your goddamn job and make sure she’s actually coherent.”

His eyes shift to the girl, then the guys. “Is she awake?”

Roman smirks. “She’s sleepin’, dude. Nothing’s wrong with her.”

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