Page 11 of Your Love (Merrimack Mavericks Hockey #3)
Chapter 11
“Running Up That Hill”
Landry - Age 18, 1988
“ I left to escape my ex-boyfriend.”
I hadn’t expected that. My molars grind as my brain works out why a woman would have to flee her home to get away from a man. Somehow, I keep my face neutral as she continues.
As she reminisces, her voice wavers with emotion. “I’ll never forget the day I met him. It was freshman year. He was a junior, almost seventeen, and so cool compared to us nerdy underclassmen.” She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “It was surreal when he showed interest in me, a nobody. She looks away, lost in memories. “He was nice. Everyone loved him. Quarterback—an all-American guy. He was great on paper.”
“I take it he wasn’t that way in real life?”
A sigh escapes her lips as she continues. “He was for a while. By the time he wasn’t, he had already done so much damage that I couldn’t trust my thoughts anymore.”
Tension coils in the pit of my stomach as I listen. If this was leading where I suspect it is, I have a long drive ahead to Texas to bury a body.
“For the first few months, he was everything I’d ever dreamed of in a boyfriend. He doted on me, showering me with love and attention. He was patient and kind to my family and friends.But as time passed, I began to notice the small, manipulative things he was doing. He planted seeds of doubt about my friends, convincing me that they talked behind my back and weren’t good people. In the end, he succeeded in isolating me from everyone but himself. I had no experience before him, so I believed it was a normal part of being consumed by someone else’s love.”
My voice is strained and tense as I inquire, “How long were you two together?”
Her reply comes hesitantly, almost as if she’s afraid to say it out loud. “I ended things about eight months ago, years too late,” she reveals. “Before I tell you what happened, I want you to know that I’m not proud of it. I’ve always prided myself on being strong and resilient, but this experience showed me that I have a long way to go.”
I reach out and touched her arm. “Don’t say that,” I plead, my voice filled with desperation. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
She shakes her head, casting my words off her guarded exterior. “Wait until you hear this before you decide,” she says pointedly. “After a few months, I was isolated. That’s when he started bringing up the idea of us having sex. I was fifteen and wasn’t ready, but he somehow made it seem like I owed it to him because he chose me. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”
I’m trying as hard as I can to wipe the disgusted look off my face. The last thing I want is for Kerri to think it has anything to do with her. It’s all about him—only a fucking lowlife would ever pressure a girl into something she isn’t ready for.
“So, we did. And for a while, I felt okay about it, I guess. But then I began to realize he was the only person I ever spent time with, and I depended on him not to be alone.” She releases a heavy sigh, frustration evident in her tone. “Which is ironic because he’s the one who placed me in that lonely spot in the first place.” Her lower lip trembles, and she gnaws on it briefly.
“Anyway, a few months later, I was waiting for him to use the restroom as we were leaving a burger place. A guy walked up to me and started chatting. I didn’t think anything of it. But Beau did. He walked over, grabbed me by the arm, and hauled me away. In the car, he called me a whore, and said he clearly couldn’t leave me alone for five minutes. I argued that I hadn’t done anything, and that’s the first time… he hit me.”
My hands are gripping the tailgate so hard my knuckles have turned white, and my fingers are starting to tingle with numbness. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything, Landry,” she begins to cry. One lone tear drips down her cheek. “He said it was because of football stress and college pressure. I was so shocked. I didn’t know what to do. So I waited—for what, I’m not sure. Things got better for a while, but then he got jealous of me spending too much time cheerleading and told me to quit. I refused, and his hand flew much faster and harder than the first time.” She winces as she recalls the memory. “Again, he apologized, and again, I took him back.”
I tenderly wipe the tear from her cheek with a swipe of my thumb. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I tell.
“I want to. I need to,“ she urges.
I nod, and she continues. “I hid everything as best as I could, even though Mama and Daddy knew something was wrong. They would constantly ask me how I was doing and if I needed anything. They were curious why my old friends never called anymore. I came up with lie after lie. And everyone adored Beau. He was the starting quarterback, and his daddy was a Deputy Sheriff, so he was untouchable. Then, one day, my period was late. He had made me get on the pill not long after we first started sleeping together. I didn’t think I was pregnant, but I was terrified, so I drove to the closest nearby town and bought a home pregnancy test at the drugstore. When I got home, I took the test. I’d never been so scared in my life during those three minutes, waiting to see if I was going to be bound to that man forever. Thankfully, it was negative. I threw it in the trash and thanked God for small miracles. That night, my parents went to a barn dance, and Beau came over. He used the bathroom, and he must have either purposefully looked into the trash can or saw it by accident.”
I’m torn with feelings of empathy and love for this woman, who was still a child when she was abused this way, and fury toward her abuser. I owe it to Kerri to listen and support her, but the blood in my veins feels like fire, and it’s nearly impossible to sit still.
“When he came out of the bathroom, he was in a rage. He was screaming at me, accusing me of trying to get pregnant to trap him since he was sure he was going to become a pro football player at some point. Of course, I denied it. I told him the test was negative and I had just been worried. That’s when he hit me with a fist. Before, he was always careful not to make marks on my face, but this time he lost it. When I fell to the ground, he kicked me in the stomach. I blacked out from the pain. The next thing I remember, I was in the hospital looking into my parents’ crying faces.”
Her words are no longer laced with sadness—they are biting with anger. There’s my girl, I think to myself.
“God, Landry, I’ve never felt so horrible in my life, and not from the dislocated jaw and broken ribs. But for putting my parents through that. It gave me the strength I’d been missing until that point. I realized that he was done—he would never lay another hand on me.”
I squeeze her hands reassuringly as she continues.
“They searched for Beau for days before finding him at a friend’s house. I doubt that they looked very hard on account of his daddy. But he was arrested. He spent six months in jail, and I spent six months recovering. Mama and I had to beg Daddy not to kill him, I swear to God. He was ready to take a baseball bat to Beau’s head.”
“Your father and I think alike.”
She shakes her head. “I couldn’t let him ruin his life over this. We all needed to move on. But that was tougher than expected. Beau got out of jail, and even though he had a restraining order, he would show up where I was. He never approached me—he just stared at me with hate in his eyes. He blamed me for everything—getting kicked out of school and losing his future with football. I don’t think his rehabilitation helped much,” she scoffs.
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
“It got to be too much. I couldn’t take it. So I decided to come here. And I swore off men and relationships and everything else for a while.”
Her eyes meet mine, pleading for understanding.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” I say as I pull her toward me.
She lets her head drop on my shoulder. “I let it happen to me.”
“No, you didn’t,” I argue.
“Don’t you see? I let this man abuse me for three years,” she insists, her voice shaking with anger and self-blame. “I could have stopped it, but I didn’t.”
“Don’t say that. He was manipulative and used your age against you. It wasn’t your fault.”
She sighs. “You’re right. It wasn’t my fault. But I can’t help but feel like I deserve it somehow for allowing it.”
“You know you don’t.”
Her response is a disbelieving scoff.
“Kerri, look at me.” She slowly lifts her head, and her blue eyes meet mine. “You did not deserve anything that happened to you.”
She let out a shaky sigh. “But–”
“But nothing.” My tone is firm. “Let me ask you a question. Do you think Paisley deserved what happened to her?”
Kerri’s face crumples and tears fill her eyes. “My God, No! She was just a child. How could she have known what could happen?”
I arch my brow and wait for her to make the connection.
She releases a heavy sigh before responding. “I understand your point, but it’s hard for me to fully believe it. I’m doing my best to work on it.”
“But you don’t yet, and that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be with anyone,” I affirm. “You need to get to know yourself again. Trust yourself again. Find your worth, even though I already know what it is. It doesn’t matter as long as you don’t see it.”
“How do you do that?” she asks, the corner of her mouth arching into a grin.
“How do I do what?” I ask.
“Read me so well?” she replies. “How are you so perfect?”
“I’m hardly perfect. But I know you. You’re doing the right thing.”
“Just so you know, if I were ready, you’d be the only person for me, Christian Landry.”
She smiles and bumps her shoulder into mine.
Warmth radiates throughout my chest at her words. “For now, I’m happier than a pig in the mud to be your best friend.”
She smiles so wide I bet it makes her cheeks ache. “Yes! Now we’re talking!” she exclaims.
After a moment, she quiets. “I haven’t told the girls yet. They’re aware of bits and pieces, but not everything.”
“Well, for the record, you couldn’t have chosen a more perfect pair of friends. They’ve both been through some tough times, especially Ivy. No one will understand you or love you more than them.”
“No one?” she asks.
“No one but me.”