Page 170 of Unraveling Rain
Chapter 42
Rain
Xander and I arrive hand in hand at 9:45 a.m. at a conference room in the Raleigh courthouse.
He’s wearing a black suit, black shirt, and black tie. It amazes me how good he looks every time he wears a suit—but today, he’s particularly handsome. All black. Like one of those bad boys women know are trouble and fall for anyway.
I’m in black too: a dress and heels, with my hair pinned in a sleek chignon. I wanted to look strong. In control.
Cunningham is already here, but Dennis and his lawyer are nowhere to be seen.
My blood simmers.
He had better be here on time. I don’t want to have to wait any longer to get this over with.
“Rain,” Cunningham says, “this can be a very simple meeting—if we let it be. The judge will ask both parties to speak and specify their requests. Then he’ll ask you if you agree to the terms. You can accept or decline, and we’ll go from there. Sounds good?”
I nod and squeeze Xander’s hand like it’s the only thing keeping me from jumping out of my skin.
He kisses my temple and whispers over and over, “We got this. You’re not alone. I love you.”
His words calm me. I close my eyes and think of last night—how exhausted he was after scoring the winning goal and flying straight home.
I showed him the box. The note.
He held me while I cried myself to sleep in his lap.
“Good morning,” a man with salt-and-pepper hair says, walking into the room.
Dennis is right behind him. And with him—a woman. His wife, I assume. She looks nervous. He looks blank.
Moments later, a tall man enters. The judge. Cunnigham and the other lawyer stand, and we follow suit.
“Good morning, everyone,” the judge says. “We’re here to determine whether a settlement can be reached betweenRain MacAllister and Dennis Johnson. Although the complaint was filed in Azalea Creek, where the incident allegedly occurred, I agreed to hold the conference in Raleigh, where Ms. MacAllister resides, and where Mr. Johnson was detained.”
I’m listening. I am. But my mind feels far away.
The judge continues, “As the documents show, Ms. MacAllister filed the report ten years after the event. Is there a reason for that, Ms. MacAllister? I understand victims may report at any point in time, but I’d like your reasoning on record.”
I take a deep breath.
Xander squeezes my hand.
I square my shoulders and lift my chin.
“Yes, Your Honor. I know it was a long time ago. Believe me, I was the last person who wanted to bring those memories back. But Dennis started texting me this summer. I ignored him. Every message. Then he approached my boyfriend. At work. He’s a professional ice hockey player, and Mr. Johnson thought it was a good idea to reach out to him after a game and ask him to talk to me. That’s when I knew it had to stop. I have nothing to say to Dennis. But here we are.”
My voice holds steady, but I can feel the heat rising in my neck.
The judge nods and jots down a few notes. “Anything you would like to add, Mr. Johnson?”
Dennis adjusts his tie and clears his throat.
“Yes, Your Honor. Good morning. Ms. MacAllister is right. I contacted her this summer. It’s been years since we last spoke, and when I saw her on social media with her boyfriend, I honestly felt… happy. I just wanted to talk to her to say how glad I was to see that she seemed to have moved on. I wanted to let her know I had too. I have a beautiful wife and daughter. I hoped she could see that what transpired between us that night was simply two teenagers being reckless and having fun.”
Xander’s chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he bolts to his feet, knocking it over behind him.
“Are you fucking serious?” he growls. “Excuse my language, Your Honor. He forced himself on a girl barely eighteen years old. He told her he loved her and swore they would be together forever—calling sexual assault a reckless act is wild to me.”
