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Ah, yes. There’s my girl. I kiss her once more before she disappears up the street with Joey. Terrell grins watching Joey. “She’s a cool chick.”
I level him a serious look. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Bitch, please.” He gives me that “you’re crazy” expression he’s so good at. “I’m a fuckin’ gentleman.”
I raise an eyebrow and pull out my phone to check the time. “Canbe.”
“Listen, man.” He motions me forward toward the pier. “I know what she’s been through,” he adds. “I won’t hurt her like that.”
“I know you won’t. I’m just warning you that if you do, you’ll have to answer to me.”
After basically laughing in my fucking face, he shoves his hands into his jacket, his dark eyes on mine. “We haven’t even had sex, and I can tell you without a doubt, I’ve got it bad.”
That’s surprising. Leaning into the railing on the pier, I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “I know what you mean.”
He glances over at me, then the water below us. “Joey said Barrette went to the police.” I nod. “You think it’s him?”
“I know it is,” I seethe, the anger working its way through me again.
“So what are we gonna do about it?”
“Nothing. The police will handle it.”
Terrell’s nostrils flare and his eyes level me. “That’s not what I mean.”
I stare at him, unsure. “What?”
“I’m talking about the team. That was bullshit last night.”
He’s right. It was bullshit. I took some hard hits all because Codey wasn’t protecting me.
“I’m not about to sit back while they destroy your million-dollar arm,” he adds.
“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about Barrette. When this gets out, who knows what’s going to happen.”
“I’ve got her,” he assures me. “We all do. Our team, they play for you and defend you. No matter what.”
I fucking hope he’s right. Like it or not, our relationship started in the aftermath of tragedy. Because of that, we’re both clinging to an unhealthy hope that together we can deal with it.
My high school football coach once told me I could have all the talent in the world, but if I didn’t have the ability to finish things, I’d never do anything with my life. I know exactly what he was referring to and for Barrette, I’ll make sure this is finished. Roman and whoever else was involved will pay for this.
I think I read this somewhere, but I can’t remember where. When you become fearless, you become limitless. Is that true? Can someone really become fearless?
I don’t remember the first month after the night I was raped. It’s all a blur. I spent a good amount of time at Asa’s house, in his bed, avoiding reality. I didn’t talk to anyone and the only food I ate was anything Carlin forced me to eat. My point is, I didn’t have to face anyone and have them ask, what are those bruises from? Is it true, were you really raped?
And if I did get those questions, I had a panic attack and had to basically run away. A month later, I moved to Seattle and into a dorm. I thought being in college I wouldn’t have to deal with any of the questions because who would know, right? Big city. College. Why would anyone care?
For the most part, that’s exactly how it was. No one knew anything. Until the panic attacks were a weekly occurrence and my therapist suggested I join a support group. From there, it got out that I was, in fact, a victim of sexual assault. But still, no one has ever said anything to my face.
Until….
“That’s her, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you believe it?”
Until those are the whispers following me as I’m walking to class. I don’t know who they are, but I imagine they’re girls. Sounds like a girl. High-pitched. Maybe a cheerleader?