Page 31 of Only You
I nod but keep my mouth shut as I hold onto him.
He’s not looking at me, both of us facing forward as he lays his head on my shoulder. “One night, right before he was supposed to go back to college, Ricky asked me to go to his room. He gave me a soda, and I was so excited because it was just himand me. It kind of felt like an actual family. Like I had a big brother or something.”
I find my grip tightening on him a little bit but make sure I’m not hurting him. My stomach twists and aches, already hating the next part of his story without having to hear it.
“I must have fallen asleep.” His voice cracks a little, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Thinking about Remy at that age. Sweet, small, vulnerable Remy who just wanted to be loved and cared about. Who didn’t deserve even a hangnail—let alone all the shit that happened to him his whole life. “I woke up, and I was under the covers on his bed, and he was next to me. He looked like he was sleeping, but when I stirred, he opened his eyes. I felt groggy and strange, but wasn’t sure what was happening. I noticed my pants were down.” A small gasp escapes from me, and I open my eyes, turning my head to look at him. He doesn’t look my way. He’s in a daze as he continues his story. “I asked him about it, and he said I told him that I was hot and pulled my pants down, then fell asleep. I knew it sounded wrong, but I didn’t hurt anywhere. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why I felt so wrong about the whole thing, but I made my exit, and I convinced myself it was fine once I got to my room. But I didn’t feel fine. I felt like something really bad happened.”
I hug his slight body to mine, feeling hot rage consume me, but also knowing that’s not what Remy needs right now.
“I showered, and then he left for school the next day. I convinced myself I’d imagined it all and that it didn’t matter. Everything was fine until Christmas.” I look away from him again and close my eyes, cursing internally. “He was home for almost a month. I avoided him as much as I could, but then he guilted me into hanging out with him. Said he didn’t understand why all of a sudden I didn’t like him. I felt bad, like maybe I made it all up. So I hung out with him. And it happened again but only worse.”
He’s quiet for a really long time, and even though I don’t really want to know, I know I need to. That he needs to tell someone. “What happened, Remy?”
“I woke up in his bed again. Pants completely off this time, and his were too.” My blood runs cold, but I’m silent. “He told me to shut up and let it happen or he’d fuck me, and he didn’t think I was quite ready for that yet. He touched himself while touching me, and when it was over, he told me if I told anyone, no one would believe me and I’d get in trouble for lying.”
I open my eyes, realizing they’re wet, a tear falling before I wipe it away and turn to Remy. I know that lie would have worked—mostly because it might not have even been a lie. How many kids report abuse and are told they’re lying. How many victims are actually believed? Not enough.
“I went to my room and straight to the shower. I scrubbed my skin raw, and I cried alone. It’s so stupid, Tatum. Nothing even really happened.”
“Bullshit,” I growl, and he looks at me now, his expression full of surprise. “You didn’t give him consent to touch you. Or to touch himself around you. You had that stolen from you.”
He flinches, and I know I need to soften my tone, but I can’t let him think that. He has to know what happened to him was every bit as wrong as if that asshole would have penetrated his body.
“I’m so sorry, Remy,” I say and hold him close to me, fighting the urge to kiss his temple.
“I got lucky, Tatum.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, looking into his eyes.
“I thought I’d have to avoid him for two more weeks before he went back to school. I was determined to do it. I blamed myself for giving in to him in the first place, but I wouldn’t again. But it didn’t matter because the very next day, social services came in and removed us all from the house.”
I can’t hide my shock. “What happened?”
That shit never happens. I mean never. How many of us prayed for miracles like that? “Apparently, a past foster kid had aged out and reported it. When they did the investigation, they had five other foster kids report the same thing happening with Ricky. The parents lost their license, and Ricky was arrested.”
“Good,” I say and hug him even closer to me, a little concerned I might be hugging him too tightly, but he doesn’t squirm away. “But it doesn’t make what did happen any less traumatic.”
“It could have been so much worse,” he says, wiping at his tears.
I turn and cup his face in my hands, using my thumbs to wipe away the wetness from his eyes. “Did you press charges?”
He shakes his head, and my hands go with the motion, never letting him go. “No. I just wanted to be done with it.” He tilts his head enough to look me directly in the eyes, my thumbs still brushing away his tears. “I was a coward. When they asked me if it had happened to me, I lied.”
“You’re not a coward,” I say with complete and total honesty.
“I let those other kids carry the burden. I lied, and then I escaped into my own head. I pushed you away. I kept my head down and graduated. I got out of there.”
“You were brave. You did what you needed to do to survive.”
He lets out another strangled cry, and more tears spill. “I’m so sorry, Tatum. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”
I pull him into me now, wrapping my arms around him and holding onto him as he cries, letting out years and years of pain. I smooth my hand over his hair and whisper things into his ear about how strong and brave he is. How he’s okay. How he made it through.
How we’re okay. How happy I am that I found him again.
His cries start to slow just when the oven timer goes off. When he goes to get up off the couch, I stop him and go instead to remove the pasta from the oven, turn it off, and then go right back to him. He climbs into my lap and clings to me.
It’s heart-wrenching, but I wouldn’t trade that moment for anything in the world. Knowing it’s exactly what we both need.
