Page 40 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Emma

B en refused to listen to any of my smutty audiobooks while we drove, claiming he didn’t need any help in that department.

I have to agree. Book boyfriends don’t hold a candle to Benjamin Rossi.

Even though I love my dark romance, after some of the things I’ve been through, a real life stalker isn’t hot. It’s scary.

I managed to get him to agree to a true crime podcast, but he made me turn it off after two episodes because he was so aghast these things actually happened, and that people talk about it so casually.

After I turned it off, he let me pick the music. I settled on my sad girl playlist because as much fun as I’ve had so far, I’m still extremely heartbroken about Grandpa.

I’m also wildly anxious to see my parents. I haven’t been back to Utah since last May when I came to celebrate Andy’s fortieth and went to Wes’s concert with my cousins.

The concert was the only good part of the trip.

The rest of the time was spent trying to avoid upsetting my narcissistic sister Hailey because my mere existence pisses her off and dodging all the “life advice” from the rest of my siblings who don’t know a single fucking thing about me but feel like they get an input in my life.

Halfway to Vegas, I turn the music down. “I should probably warn you about my family.”

“I think I’ve been sufficiently warned. What else could there possibly be?”

I blow out a breath. “You have no idea. I won’t bore you with the details, but I feel like you should be adequately prepared in case they say something out of pocket—which they will.”

“Alright. Hit me.”

I explain again how both of my parents have kids from previous marriages and because of their ten-year age gap, it means I have siblings who are closer to my mom’s age than my own.

That until I was thirteen, I had only seen two of my oldest siblings a handful of times.

How my dad’s two youngest lived in Illinois with their mom, and when I was around five their mom stopped letting them visit for the summers.

I explain that I grew up with my mom’s kids, and my sister Hailey is the one I’ve lived with longest, but she hates me simply because I was born.

I tell him how my whole life I was told I was the glue meant to bring the families together, and I was burdened with the responsibility of bringing my siblings back to the church .

“Something… happened to me in high school, and my family didn’t handle it well. That’s when I started to realize my family didn’t really care all that much about me. They did things out of obligation, but they didn’t like me, ” I say, not sure how deep into it I should go with him.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just know whatever you say, I won’t judge you for it.”

The sun is setting as we get closer to Vegas, so it’s easier to bare my soul in the dimming light of the setting sun.

“The longish short story is when I was sixteen, I met a guy on a dating app. He was twenty, so I didn’t think much of the age difference since it was only four years.

He was a member of the church, too, so I thought it automatically made him a good guy—I was wrong.

He started getting really aggressive and possessive.

He would get upset if I didn’t text him back immediately, even when I was in school, and he made me feel guilty for just being a regular high school student.

He would get upset when I would go to dances with my friends, demanding all of my free time.

I tried to end it multiple times, but he would manipulate me into coming back to him.

I was with him for a year before I finally told my parents because I was so scared.

“Hailey’s husband is a cop, and I guess legally he had to report it, even though my parents wanted to just brush it under the rug. We had recently moved, but my brother was still living in the old house with his family. They needed to know about the guy because he knew my old address. ”

Tears spring to my eyes. I hate talking about this. It’s hard not to feel ashamed for the danger my family could’ve been in.

“I don’t know exactly what my parents told my brother Neil, but he asked me ‘Did you screw him?’ I never willingly gave myself to the man.

He manipulated me. Everything I did was out of survival.

Then, my family started referring to it as the ‘mistake’ I made.

It was labeled statutory because of our age difference, and in the eyes of the court, I was an active and willing participant, even though I was manipulated.

“About a year later, before I moved out, Hailey and I got into an argument about God knows what, and she told me it was my fault I was raped. She said I made everyone else’s life miserable because I was stupid.

Then, one of my other sisters told me I was ruining his life by taking him to court.

That I was being dramatic because I regretted sleeping with him. ”

Ben’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, and he shakes his head. “That’s fucked up, Emma.”

“I know. I should have known better—”

“No,” he barks. “It’s fucked up that your sisters—your family— would blame you for that. You were a kid. You needed support, not blame.”

“You don’t even know the whole story,” I argue weakly.

I saw a trauma therapist after I graduated high school, and she helped me realize what happened wasn’t my fault, but it took a long time.

Sometimes, when I have to tell people the story, doubts creep in, and I start thinking maybe it was my fault.

That if I had been smarter or less trusting, none of it would have happened .

“I don’t need to know the longer version. I know your family was in the wrong for how they treated you. I’m sure there’s more, so we can circle back later if you want to tell me the whole story, but just know I don’t think any part of what happened was your fault.”

“I—okay.” I take a deep breath. “After, things were… not great, but tolerable when I moved in with Jordan’s family after graduation.

I didn’t see my family much. I had a boyfriend, a job, I was taking online classes, and Jordan’s parents were talking about moving to California.

I was considering moving in with my boyfriend.

“Then, four days after New Year’s, my mom called me at six in the morning while I was getting ready for work.

She told me Andy was missing, and I needed to come home to be with the family so they could search for him.

Apparently, he had been missing for a few days.

” My tone turns bitter every time I say it because no one even thought to tell me he was missing until it was too late.

“The police wouldn’t do anything since he was a grown man in his thirties.

He lived with my brother Alex and his family at the time, and they were worried.

They tracked him to a casino in Nevada, but one of Hailey’s high school friends saw him, and he left.

So when I got to my brothers’ house, my parents and brothers went out to search.

A few of them split off and decided to search an area Andy liked to go to four-wheeling. ”

I hate the next part the most.

“While we were waiting to hear how the search was going, Alex’s wife checked the mail and found an envelope full of cash and a note from Andy apologizing he couldn’t give them more to help with rent.

At the same time she was reading the note, Hailey’s husband called and told her they found…

” My voice breaks as tears start to stream down my cheeks.

“They found his truck, still smoldering, with him inside.”

Ben curses under his breath as one large hand makes its way to my thigh. Not even caring about our rules right now, I place my hand on top of his.

“We were all distraught, but I had to hold it together and get us over to my parents’ house.

I can still vividly hear my mom’s cry of pain when we pulled in the driveway.

I had to get my niece from daycare because her parents weren’t in any state to do it.

I was brushed aside with funeral planning.

They made me feel like because I was only his half-sister, I wasn’t allowed to grieve him the same way they did. ”

Ben squeezes my thigh. “That’s fucking awful. I can’t—I don’t even have words to express how fucking sorry I am. You deserve better. Was your boyfriend at the time at least a good support system?”

I bark out a laugh. “Not at all. He was upset I didn’t want to have a nerf gun fight with his siblings the night of Andy’s funeral.”

“He sounds like an asshole.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. He was an asshole. I broke up with him two months later because he was upset I was still sad about Andy’s death. I leave that part out, though.

“Did you ever find another note, or anything to help give your family closure?” Ben asks quietly.

I shake my head. “No. We can speculate the reasons— have speculated. All of us have struggled with some sort of mental illness, but Andy was never diagnosed, so we don’t know for sure. We don’t even know exactly how he died—or when—because of the damage the fire did to him and his truck.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that, Emma.”

I give him an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”