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“Me.”

“You?”

I nod. “This week I ran into someone from my past. Someone that hurt me, although it took me until just now to realize how bad.” I tell him about running into Will–and how things escalated in the pool.

“That fucker called you a whore?” He looks ready to crawl out of his skin.

“It wasn’t the first time,” I admit.

“Well, damn, T, that just makes it worse.”

“I know. And I allowed it,” I confess, “in a way I kind of encouraged it. I thought that’s how older kids talked to oneanother. I thought that was what I had to do to get his attention. I let him say and do a lot of things to me that I didn’t want or like.”

Our eyes meet and he knows. I know he understands. “Fuck.”

“I was so in over my head. He was this cool older guy. My brother’s friend. I trusted him. I wanted his attention. Hisvalidation.So when he,” I swallow, “when he made me do things to him, I didn’t fight back. I didn’t really know how to or if I could.”

Axel’s arms wrap around me, the stiff collar of his shirt grazing my cheek. He holds me tight and I sink into it, breathing him in. Safe space.

“He–”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He turns to face me. “Not unless you want to.”

“I want to.”

I tell him about all of it. The way he flirted with me around other friends, getting me to drop my guard, then inviting me over to the pool house by myself. “He was my first kiss,” I tell him. “The first penis I saw and touched. The first one to go inside of me.” I give him a pointed look. “Nothing was off limits, because I didn’t know how to say no.”

“Jesus, T. He was older and more experienced, preying on his friend’s kid sister. A fucking predator.”

“I knew it was off. All of it. There was the pain I felt, physically and emotionally. The shame I experienced during the act and when I snuck back home, crossing our yards, pretending to be the same girl I was when I went over. I just didn’t know what to do. How to get out of it. Who to tell. So I just took it, until he got distracted by other girls and I grew up and ran as far away as I could.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Unfortunately, I didn’t leave it behind me. I brought all of that toxic behavior with me.”

“You’re not toxic.” He brushes the back of his fingers down my cheek. “You’re kind and beautiful and smart.”

“Maybe not,” I give him an appreciative grin, “but there’s something in me that seeks this kind of validation–even if it’s from terrible people.” I inhale. “I’m ready for it to stop.”

“You already have. You stood up to that asshole neighbor and to Mr. America, Brent Reynolds. You’re not the same person you were when I first met you.” He tightens his grip on me. “I mean, you were hot as fuck then and hot as fuck now, but you’re different. More self-aware. More confident.”

“I don’t feel confident.”

“It takes time.” He shifts so that he can see me better. “When I started playing goalie I was fucking terrified. Of the puck. Of the stick. Of the aggressive guys holding and hitting both. And just when I’d get comfortable, I’d move up a level and it would start again, this time with a bigger, faster, better player.” He chuckles. “The first time Reese took a shot on me I almost wet myself.”

“You were scared of him?”

“Not of him, but looking like a fool going up against one of the top power forwards in the league. I was afraid he’d prove to Coach Bryant I didn’t deserve my spot and I’d get sent back to Texas.”

“What happened?”

He rolls his eyes. “We both made fools of ourselves. He was nervous too and whiffed the shot but I was so jacked up I went for it and tripped over the ice, busting my chin.” He points to the thin white scar. “Blood got everywhere.”

I laugh, imagining the two of them embarrassed and pissed. “I get it, but I don’t think it’s the same.”

“What’s the same is that confidence isn’t something that’s given to you, T. It’s earned. Practiced. And the past few weeks you’ve been practicing how to be a woman that doesn’t need tochase jerseys and looking for validation from the wrong kind of people.”

Huh. There may be some truth to that.

“And even when you tried to screw up,” he says, a slow grin quirking his lip, “I was there to keep you from any epic fuck-ups.”

“You helped me?” I bark a laugh. “Please. I’m the one that had to keep helping you! You’re weak, Rakestraw. Weak!”