Page 50

Rain

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 between Rain 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.”

“Please take a seat, Mr. González,” the judge says calmly. “You are here as Ms. MacAllister’s significant other. I haven’t requested that you speak.”

Xander rights his chair, sits, and closes his eyes.

I cradle his hand between mine.

“Please continue, Mr. Johnson.”

Dennis shrugs. “As I was saying, we were just two teens, not knowing what we were doing. I didn’t mean any harm. I just wanted to make sure everything was in the past.”

I scoff as Dennis finishes his pathetic speech .

“Very well,” the judge says. “What are you proposing to settle this accusation, Mr. Johnson?”

His lawyer clears his throat. “Yes, Your Honor. We would like Ms. MacAllister to retract the report. This was a misunderstanding between two consenting adults. In addition, Mr. Johnson is generously offering one hundred thousand dollars as a gesture of good faith.”

I bite my lip to keep from exploding.

What the actual fuck?

Does he think he’s going to get away with this shit?

“Do you have a counteroffer, Ms. MacAllister?”

I lift a hand to stop Cunningham.

“Yes, Your Honor. There is no way in hell I’m going to withdraw my report. What he did to me wasn’t a misunderstanding. Dennis raped me. We had dated for over a year. I told him—many times—I wasn’t ready for sex.

“That night, he took me to a field to stargaze. He touched me in places I didn’t feel comfortable. When I told him to stop, he hit me—until I stopped fighting. Then he raped me.”

The room is silent except for the sound of the judge flipping through the file.

“When he took me back home, my brother saw us. Told him what happened. He punched Dennis and called his dad. Dennis’s family left town that week. His father said they’d leave peacefully if we didn’t press charges. Everything is in the Azalea Creek report—filed by both my brother and me.”

I breathe through the rising rage.

“So for him to sit here and call that night ‘reckless’? No, Your Honor. It was violent. It was traumatic. I want the harshest sentence he can get.”

I reach into my purse and retrieve the envelope. "Not only is my brother a witness to the state Dennis left me in, but I also have the clothes I wore that night. I’m sure they’ll show his DNA. And I have this.” I hand the judge the letter.

"A note from my dad, who passed away eight years ago. He found the box with my clothes. Said he noticed the change in me after that night.”

The judge reads it briefly before passing it back to me.

I turn to Dennis.

“So, are you going to be man enough and finally admit that you raped me? Or are you going to pretend that you didn’t know what you were doing? Because I can also call everyone who was at the bonfire that night and have them testify about your unsolicited advances toward me.

“And if that’s not enough, I’ll call your dad and ask why your family left so quickly, selling the farm for way less than it was worth. I’m sure your parents don’t know you decided to come back into my life after swearing you’ll leave me and my family the fuck alone.”

I raise an eyebrow.

Dennis closes his eyes.

His wife is staring at him, stunned.

“How could I have been so stupid to fall for your lies twice?” she whispers. “I didn’t know that was the reason you had to leave Azalea Creek. You said the cattle at the farm got sick, and you all sold before it was a total loss.

“Also—why is she saying you’ve been texting her nonstop? Didn’t you do enough damage to this woman already? What’s your fixation with her?”

She rises, eyes shining with unshed tears as she clenches her jaw.

“This is it, Dennis. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. I don’t want our daughter to grow up under the same roof as a sexual predator.”

She storms out. Dennis starts to follow, but his lawyer stops him.

“All I wanted was to talk to you, Rain,” Dennis yells, eyes wide. “And now you’ve destroyed my life!”

“That’s enough,” the judge says. His voice cuts clean through the chaos. “Silence.”

“If you want to avoid a full trial, Mr. Johnson, where a jury will weigh this evidence, I advise you to accept a fifteen-year incarceration sentence without possibility of parole, and restitution in the amount of one million dollars.”

“I don’t have that kind of money, Your Honor,” Dennis mutters. “And fifteen years seems a little too harsh for something that happened so long ago.”

“You just admitted to the crime, Mr. Johnson. According to your financial disclosures, your net worth is two million dollars. I’m only suggesting, one since the other will go to your wife in the divorce settlement. Believe me, this is the best deal you’ll get.”

Dennis crumbles, burying his face in his hands.

“My client accepts the terms, Your Honor. Thank you so much for your time,” his lawyer says.

“Very well,” the judge replies, standing. “I’ll have my secretary write this up. When it’s ready, we’ll call you to sign it, Ms. MacAllister. Mr. Johnson, you’ll remain in Raleigh PD custody until you’re transferred.”

The judge exits, and two officers step in to escort Dennis out.

Cunningham shakes hands with the other lawyer. Xander and I rise.

I lift my arms, and he picks me up.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Cherry,” he whispers into my hair. “You killed it.”

I hug him tighter as the room fades.

“Now what, Hotshot?” I ask as we walk out of the conference room, leaving my past behind.

He smiles, warm and sure. “Now the rest of our life begins.”

And I believe him.

Because the best is yet to come.