by Joya Ryan
“How was hanging out with my aunt all day?” he asked.
“Good. She’s amazing. How she kept track and on top of everything is mind blowing.”
“Yeah.” He patted my ass and sat back down, taking a drink from his water bottle before grabbing the weights once more. It was another causal gesture, like he just wanted to touch me and didn’t need an excuse. I just continued to stand in front of him.
“I didn’t mean to bother you during your workout.”
“You’re not.” He started his reps again, and I realized that he had moved to the edge of his chair and with every curl of his bicep, brought his upper body a little closer to mine. “You’re inspiring me.” A wicked grin lined his lips and on the next curl, he nipped my hip bone.
I jumped from the little bite, heat instantly rising.
“I keep thinking about the other day in the woods,” he said. “Can’t jog through there anymore without getting turned on by every damn tree I see. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to run with a hard on?”
I laughed and he bit my hip again.
“It’s not funny. I may never be able to go outside again.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” I said with exaggeration and straddled his lap. He instantly dropped the weights and those big hands landed heavy on my ass. “I never meant to ruin you.”
“Well, that’s what you’re doing.” He pressed his lips against mine, his tongue tracing the seam, and I opened for him. Wasting no time, he tasted what I had to give him and moaned. “Yeah…you’re about to ruin this room for me too, Kitten.”
“Then I better get going.”
His grip tightened. “I didn’t say that was a bad thing. In fact, we should see how many rooms around here we can ruin.”
Cupping his face, I kissed his little grin and eased away. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi and thank you for setting me up with your aunt.”
“Of course.” He tilted his head, those baby blues never leaving my face. “Something else wrong?”
“I’ve just been thinking more about Monday. It’s almost here. I’m going to tell Erica, and every time I try to think of the right thing to say, nothing seems…right.”
“That’s because what happened to you isn’t right, and this is a fucked up situation. But you’re dealing with it and doing the right thing.”
An alarm blasted loudly throughout the entire firehouse.
Cal listened to the dispatcher come across the speakers with some code I didn’t understand. He cursed under his breath and stood, gently sliding me off his lap and standing me to my feet.
“Car accident. I’ve got to run, Kitten.”
I nodded and he took off out the door and down the hall toward the trucks.
“Hey, you wanna see your boy in action? He’s driving today,” Dave hollered as he ran past me, motioning me to follow. So I did. I’d never seen firemen jump to a call before.
I stood at the edge of the garage, out of the way, and watched how all of them worked like a well-oiled machine. Cal stripped down to his boxer briefs, just like the rest of the guys, and jumped into his boots and pants and had them up with his jacket and helmet on in five seconds flat.
Cal hustled to the driver side of the truck, then caught my eye.
“I’m here, Kitten. Whenever you need me. But you’ve got this,” he yelled over the sirens and climbed into the big truck. The ladder he once took me on proudly rested atop the truck.
With that, they took off, Dave and Mark waving from the back seat, while Cal drove the massive rig into the night.
He was so strong, so capable, and he believed in me.
I’ve got this…
~
It was finally Monday. A day I’d been anxiously dreading. With Harper gone for the holidays and Cal working the past several days, I’d spent the majority of my time alone, thinking of how to approach Erica.
There was no better way than to just come out and say it.
I walked into Erica’s office and saw her sitting behind her desk.
“Hi,” I said. Her head snapped up and her eyes fastened on me. There was a softness in her expression, but her body language was odd.
“Lana, why don’t you sit?” She motioned for me to do just that across the desk from her. Sitting may help me deliver the news I came to tell her.
I took a seat and clasped my hands in my lap. I’d been practicing what to say, how to broach this topic, but today none of my prep work made it easier.
“I wanted to talk to you about Brock,” I started, determined to keep things simple and stick with facts.
“Yes,” she said, as if expecting me to say that. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Well, um, there’s no easy way to say this, but Brock is not the person you think he is. When we were younger—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Erica said, her face a bit stern. “Brock already told me about you two and your issues.”
Of course he did. Only I’m sure he gave Erica his version.
“It’s more than issues,” I said.
“Listen, Lana, I think you’re very smart, and your thesis proposal is strong, and I want you to do well. But I think it’s best if you’re assigned a new advisor.”
“What? Why?” I felt like the happy, breezy Erica I’d come to know was no longer the person I was talking to. The woman before me clearly didn’t like me much at all. A lump rose in my throat as I realized that the rapport we once had was no longer present.
“Because we have a conflict of interest. Brock is my fiancé and your step-brother, and with your history…”
“What history did he tell you?”
A look of pity washed over her face and she leaned forward, her hands resting on her desk. “He told me about the mental problems you’ve had. After your mother left and your dad married his mom, you had a hard time adjusting.” She reached out and patted my hand. “It must have been difficult being a young adolescent.”
This was not happening. I knew, at some point, Brock would lie, but I hadn’t expected him to go this far. To pre-discredit me. Though I shouldn’t be surprised.
It took me several seconds to process what was happening, then finally, I figured the best way was to move forward with my plan of the truth. At the very least, she had to know. I couldn’t walk away again and not say anything. Especially since she was closest to Brock and could get hurt.
“That’s not what happened,” I said lowly. Anger hummed in my gut as I thought about how he’d sold this lie to Erica. How I’d have to be blunt and try to now sell her on my case instead of going in there with the only intention being the truth.
“Brock raped me,” I said plainly. “What he did goes past ‘issues.’ He continues to torment me to this day, and what he’s told you isn’t the real truth.”
“Brock said you’d say that. Told me how much you went through when your mother left. I even understand, to an extent, how you craved the attention you’d lost. But this isn’t the way to get it, Lana.”
“I’m not lying. Brock is not who you think he is.” My lungs burned. She didn’t believe me. Refused to. I wasn’t ready for that. I knew it would be difficult for her, but deep down, I thought she’d listen. I was wrong. “The only reason he is dating you is to screw with my life. He’s manipulative in every single thing he does.”
Erica paused, her expression one of hurt and sadness. “I am trying to be sensitive to what you went through with your mom, Lana. But this needs to stop. Don’t you see how this is tearing your family apart? How hard you’re making things on Brock? He sees you struggle, and he is forced to pick up the pieces of his life when you go after him like this.”
“I go after him?” The words cut my throat as they came out, because I was certain nothing more hypocritical had ever been uttered.
“I know you struggle socially. I thought I could help, but at least I know the bigger picture now. I think it’s just best we go our separate ways now.”
My mouth
hung open, and I shook my head. Too dazed, startled and almost to a humorous melt down by how backwards this whole situation—conversation—was.
“You’ll have a new advisor by next week. You’ll continue to work with them on your thesis. I don’t feel comfortable signing off on your project, since I won’t be a part of it further, so I’ll forward all your documents to your new advisor.”
“No, Erica, that’s the least of my worries. I don’t want you to get hurt the way he hurt me.”
“Enough.” She slapped her hand on the desk. “My understanding only goes so far. The lies you tell about Brock end now. I won’t sit here while you bash my fiancé.”
“Erica, please,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but Brock is—”
“I won’t say this again,” she said, her voice hard with concrete edges. “No more talk of Brock, or I’ll have to escalate this matter to the dean. For now, we’ll part ways, you’ll have a new advisor and can continue your work. If you take this further, I’ll have no choice but to get the school involved.”
My entire chest felt as if it was going to short out. He’d completely charmed her before I had a chance to tell her the real truth. Now, everything was spinning. I worried about Erica, hated Brock for somehow working his way into my world once again, and school? The one place I had to myself? That I was thriving at? Was stalled. My project was halted, a new advisor was coming into the mix, and what about Erica? Would she be okay? I wanted to fight harder, make her listen, beg her to listen. Because, if Brock hurt her, I’d never forgive myself.
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through,” she said with sincerity. “And I hope you find what it is you are searching for, but for the sake of my family, and our happiness, I truly think the best way to start to heal is by creating some distance professionally and personally.”
Despair closed in and the sting of tears barely threatened because it was eclipsed by crushing defeat and anger. Once again, I had gone up against Brock and lost. Erica was a genuinely nice person, and if anything happened to her…
“Erica, I respect you and care, and I worry that—”
“There’s no need to worry. Once the semester is over, maybe we can talk. Brock said he’s open to family therapy,” she added with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. I bet he was. Another way to make me look like the crazy girl who cried rape.
“You’ll get an email in the next couple days about the logistics of your new advisor and meeting time. Good luck to you, Lana,” she said, and once again I had been dismissed.
I stood slowly, knowing there was nothing I could say to convince her otherwise. The fiery sickness in my gut raged hotter and I wanted to scream and cry all at the same time. I felt powerless. The worst feeling in the world, and one I was familiar with.
Walking out of her office, I hustled out of the building and all but ran to my car. Getting in, I shut the door and took a deep breath.
A tap came at the window and I jumped.
Brock.
I rolled it down just an inch. “Hey, sis, bad day?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Aw, that’s not nice.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Ball is in your court now. I’d be careful if I were you.”
“You threaten me even now?”
“Not threaten, just remind you of the facts.”
“Oh, I’m very aware of the facts. You may have everyone else blind to what you really are, but I know.”
“It doesn’t matter what you know. Erica won’t believe you. So, you even try to talk to her again about us, and that could be grounds for defamation of character. You really want to get kicked out of school?”
My breathing stalled. He held all the cards, and we both knew it. The truth was, school mattered so much to me, but my main concern was Erica.
“If you hurt her—”
“I love her,” Brock said. I scoffed because he didn’t know the meaning. But, he liked threats? I’d have to sink to his level if it meant making sure Erica would be okay, even from a distance.
“You know that one wrong move on your part, one rough touch or evil glare, and her confidence in you will chip away. So, you so much as look at her wrong, make her feel unsafe, and she’ll wonder if I’m the one to believe. You might be able to dress the part of the doting fiancée, but no one can keep up the façade forever. Not even you.”
His face turned a little red with rising anger. Oh, yeah, I could make threats too, asshole. Judging by the expression on his face, he knew what I said to be true.
“Which is why I won’t hurt her,” he said with a sneer in his voice. I was upsetting him. He knew I was right, one wrong move and Erica would believe me. “You know, maybe this has gone too far,” Brock said with a smile. I hated that smile. Because it always came with some trick or plot he had brewing. “If you really can’t get past what you think you remember, there are places for you to go to get mental help.”
“You intend to paint me crazy and lock me away in a hospital somewhere? You have no power over me.” Man, did it feel good to say that.
“I think that your father and, as of today, your previous advisor, would give compelling testimony that your issues have gone far past a healthy rationale.”
That was the final blow. Because the scary thing was, he was right. Everyone in my world would back him. Would assume I was the problem. Including my own father.
“I have people who believe me,” I countered, trying for any strength I had left.
He laughed. “You mean your one friend Harper and Jack Powell? Harper would say anything to help you and doesn’t hold much credit, and you set up a meeting with me and Powell. Most people wouldn’t try to merge someone who supposedly raped them with their fuck buddy at the time, much less a business endeavor. Most people would be traumatized and stay away from the person who hurt them.”
“Oh, I’ve tried to stay away from you,” I said, my voice breaking. Brock was good at taking every ounce of strength I had. Yes, I had set up a meeting between my father, Brock, and Jack, but that was to get Brock to move back to New York and away from me. But that didn’t change the fact that it still looked bad. And, once again, my father wouldn’t support me if it came down to it.
I was powerless.
Without a family. Without a support system. I had Harper, and she was the best friend I could ask for, but if ever I had a corner, dark or not, there was no one in it.
Would Cal be in it?
I shook my head and looked at Brock. No matter how small I felt, I couldn’t let him see it. I couldn’t let him think he was winning. I couldn’t let him see me crumble.
“Just be smart, Lana. Use that brain of yours and keep your mouth shut, and everything will be fine.”
Story of my life. The one I’d been living since the night he took my sense of self. Something I was trying like hell to get back and hold on to.
I needed him to answer one question, though. I had just enough rage left to carry me through this conversation without causing me to burst into a panic attack or cry.
“You discredit me to everyone. You even try to sell me on the past with your distorted version by saying ‘you supposedly raped me.’”
A small grin tugged his lips. He got off on this. Reminding me of what happened while discrediting it at the same time. But I pushed on, because I had to know.
“Have you lost your mind to the point that you believe your own lies?” I asked. “Or do you just have a shitty memory?”
That grin turned to a full-on evil smile. His eyes scanned my body, the slow motion of his gaze on me made vomit rise, but he finally met my stare once more and said, “There’s nothing wrong with my memory.”
My chest split open, and it was all I could do to keep from shaking. He may not admit out loud, or to anyone else, what he’d done to me, but he knew. Admitted to it. And, somehow, that gave me the smallest ounce of strength.
It was real. It was horrible, but it had happened. And he knew it. That was worth the figh
t. The truth was worth the fight. All I had to do was figure out how to beat him before he took me down.
With a lecherous grin, he pushed back from my car. “I’ll see you around, sis,” he said, and started walking toward the building.
I started my car and sped toward home. My mind was in chaos, my entire world spinning off its axis.
Chapter 11
I pulled up to my house and saw a large firefighter sitting on my porch.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, getting out of my car with my things.
“I wanted to be here when you got home. I knew today was going to be hard.”
My pulse skipped. Cal had waited for me? Like he knew I’d need him. And I did. So much. I walked up to the house, unlocked it, and tossed my bag on the couch. I paced for God knows how long, the only thing getting accomplished was anger rising. I didn’t know where to start. What to say.
“Lana?” he asked, trying to get my attention, while closing the front door and locking it. “Are you—”
“I’m not okay,” I said, before he could ask.
“I can see that. What happened?”
I threw my hands up and paced some more. Adrenaline and rage were surging because I was not going to let weakness and fear take over. I needed to hold on to my frustration. Not the terror.
“Brock got to Erica before I did. He convinced her I’m the crazy one. I tried to tell her!” I hit the wall. “I tried so hard to tell her, and she won’t believe me.”
I hated the idea of her being with him alone. He could hurt her. And there was nothing I could say to her.
I knew I was throwing a fit, but everything in my body was going out of control. Brock was winning. Again. And this time an innocent person was caught in the middle. I dealt with him the best way I knew how. But bringing Erica into this wasn’t okay. Messing with my life and threatening everything I worked for wasn’t okay either.
“My family wasn’t enough,” I said. “My father wasn’t enough. Tormenting me wasn’t enough. He’s going after my school, my dreams, and Erica is caught up in all this. If she gets hurt—”