Page 143 of Wish You Were Mine
I studied her, quieting the urge to joke back as a knot slowly formed in my chest.
Better a mean professor than a mean boyfriend.
Not a joke. Not really.
Especially not when I thought about the things I’d seen—Josh’s temper at The Garden, his fight with Brody, the way he’d shouted at the refs on the ice.
Had he hurt her? Was that why they’d broken up?
“Have you had a mean boyfriend before?” I asked quietly. “Someone who…didn’t treat you well?”
Her gaze dropped as she twisted the edge of her sweatshirt between her fingers. Then, after letting out a soft sigh, she said, “Yes.”
A sharp ache settled in my chest. “Did Josh hurt you?”
I tried not to tense, not to betray the way my pulse suddenly surged. But I already knew. The hesitation in her silence said enough.
“I, uh…haven’t really told anyone,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Wasn’t sure what might happen if I did. But…things got physical a couple of times. The worst being right before Nationals last year, when he pushed me really hard and I got bruised ribs.”
I went still as a wave of shock rolled through me. Followed by a sharp wave of fury that locked up every muscle in my body. But I needed to keep my anger in check. Seeing me become too upset might trigger her, and the last thing she needed to worry about was my reaction.
So I took in a few deep breaths before I asked, “Are those the same bruised ribs Nora mentioned when you were talking about gymnastics injuries in the hot tub? Were they not actually from gymnastics?”
“They’re the same bruised ribs.” Her big blue eyes met mine, raw and weary. “I told the doctor, and everyone else, that I got hurt from a bad dismount on bars. But…it happened at Josh’s apartment when he was drunk. I said the wrong thing, I guess…and he slammed me into the counter.”
“I’m so sorry, Lucy,” was all I could say as a sick heaviness settled in my stomach. “I’m sure that was terrifying.” To have someone who claimed to love her treat her like that.
She nodded, and when her hand came up to wipe away tears, she gave a self-conscious smile. “Sorry. I always get more emotional when I’m sick.”
“Come here,” I murmured, drawing her gently into me.
She hesitated. “I might give you strep, though.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
She let herself lean into me, and I wrapped my arms around her. We sat like that for a while—her curled against my chest, her heartbeat soft and steady beneath my hand, the weight of her confession sinking deeper into my bones.
I never would’ve guessed she’d been through something like that.
That someone so strong, so talented—a ray of sunshine who lit up every room—could be carrying the kind of scars no one ever sees, left by the person who was supposed to love her most.
But that’s how it was sometimes. Abuse doesn’t care how bright someone burned.
“I broke up with him for good after that,” she said eventually, voice muffled against my shirt. “Finally realized we were actually too broken to fix. That I deservedbetter.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said. “Not everyone has the strength to walk away. Especially not with love tangled up in the pain.”
“Yeah...” She let out a soft breath. “I still wonder sometimes…if I should’ve told someone. Reported him.” Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “Because…what if he hurts someone else?”
“I get that,” I said quietly. “That fear’s real.”
She nodded slowly. “But Brody said Josh stopped drinking after their fight. That he seems to be getting better. So I want to believe that. That maybe he realized what he was doing hurt me and ruined us, and maybe he’ll try harder to avoid that in his future relationships.”
“I hope so,” I said, meaning it, too.
“But…do you think I should’ve reported him?” She looked up at me, eyes wide and vulnerable.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It’s hard. Especially when it’s someone you care about. It’s human to want to believe they’ll change. That it won’t happen again.”
