Page 75 of Frozen Hearts
Her friend makes an odd, strangled noise. “Yeah, you might wanna avoid that one.”
“Ooh, gossip? Please don’t tell me he has a name like that, looks the way he does, and sucks in the sack.”
I’m still watching them from the corner of my eye, so I notice Blondie’s tight expression before she states, “His problem is more that he only cares about himself.”
“Ugh, a selfish asshole.”
“Yeah, to the extent he won’t take no for an answer.”
The other girl gasps. “Are you saying—”
“Yes.”
My fist tightens painfully around my pen, my hands shaking at the implication of what they’re discussing.
There’s an emotional tone to the blonde girl’s voice, and her next words come out softer, although still not quiet enough that I can’t hear.
“He raped my cousin. That’s why he isn’t on the team.”
Chills run along my skin, the full effect of her admission hitting me like a ton of bricks. The force is enough to nearly have me toppling from my seat, and I hold the edge of the table in a death grip as those deeply buried demons swoop in. The library around me disappears as shadows blot out the light until all I can feel is his rancid breath on my neck. Hear his low grunts.
Always such a good girl for me.
Bile burns a vile path up the back of my throat and it’s only the feel of the cool, wooden tabletop against my cheek that grounds me in reality. Blinking, I take in the large, stuffed stacks around me, realizing I must have tried to curl in on myself. The side of my face rests on the table, and I’ve brought my knees up to wrap my arms around.
Still trembling, I push my fingers between my thighs to where I know the white scars lie. I can’t feel them through my jeans, but I don’t need to. Simply knowing they are there is enough, and I immediately start to feel my heart rate slow.
You’re safe. You’re in the library. You’re at Halston.
Breathe in. Bleed out.
He’s not here. He can’t hurt you. Hewon’thurt you ever again.
Breathe in; bleed out.
“I survived,” I whisper aloud. “I have a heartbeat. Air in my lungs.”
It’s the same routine I repeat every time. Thankfully, it has become an infrequent occurrence, but when triggered, I can do nothing except allow my mind to be dragged back there and then force myself to remember it’s no longer my reality.
Reminding myself of where I am. Acknowledging that he no longer has the power to hurt me. Touching my scars and remembering that he didn’t win, that I’m not dead. All of it works to corral those demons and stuff them back into the recesses of my mind.
I can still hear the two girls talking, but my brain refuses to focus on the details. I don’t know who this Royce guy is, but I know being suspended from the team isn’t sufficient punishment. He should have been expelled. Arrested. Branded a rapist for the whole world to see.
Why do men with money and status always get away with the vilest of crimes?
19
GRAYSON
“How was she today?” the middle-aged receptionist asks as I scrawl my name in the visitor log book.
“I officially know all the lyrics toMy Girl, which had never been on my bucket list, but it settled her every time.”
The woman nods knowingly. “That song is definitely her favorite at the moment. It’s so sweet of you to take time out of your Thanksgiving to spend it with her.”
My only response is a tight smile. I’m not about to bare my ugly family history to this woman. Everyone here at Sunnyside Nursing Home is great, and I know many of them wonder why I’m the one who’s always here. Her emergency contact. The one paying for her place. I’m sure they all have their theories, but none of them will ever know the truth.
“Thanks, Tammy.”
