The Trouble With Goodbye

by Sarra Cannon

  “Every time I asked if there was anything I needed to do or where things were in the process, they would put me off, claiming they were still working it out or whatever. Finally, the dean of students called me into his office and told me that it had been decided that there wasn’t enough evidence to warrant any kind of official hearing.”

  “They buried it.”

  I nod, not sure what he’s going to think of me now that he knows. The few people who know have all treated me completely different after they found out. Conversations become awkward and their eyes fill with either pity or fear.

  “What about your parents?” he asks. “If you tell them, maybe they can do something.”

  I shake my head and give a sad smile. “They were the ones who convinced me not to file an official report,” I say. “They kept saying no one needed to involve the press and that it was in my best interest to just move on.

  “But now this girl has come forward,” I say. “Molly Johnson. She was a freshman this year and he raped her, too. Only she didn’t keep quiet like I did. I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around campus. I had been doing the best I could to bury the memories and just try to survive and get through it, but when she came forward, everything came rushing back. All the anger and the hurt and the helplessness. I had a complete emotional breakdown and my parents said I couldn’t stay there. As soon as the semester was over, I came home. I don’t think I want to go back there, but I don’t know how to live with this. I don’t know how to move past this.”

  I can’t hold myself together anymore.

  I dissolve into tears and Knox pulls me up onto his lap. He cradles me in his arms and cries with me as the rain outside continues to fall.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I wake up to the sound of cars splashing through the water on the road outside.

  I have spent the night snuggled close to Knox on the floor of the bar. At some point, he must have gotten up to blow out the candles. Light streams through the one window at the front of the room. His eyes are still closed, and my heart overflows with love as I study his face.

  I run my fingers along the line of his jaw, then up to his lips. He groans and shifts slightly, but doesn’t wake.

  I smile and lean in to kiss his neck. I kiss him gently, my lips traveling up and down his neck, then across his cheek and jaw. When my warm lips touch his, his eyes flutter open and meet mine. My heart skips and I know I have found someone very special. I know he understands me and he isn’t judging me.

  He loves me.

  He would never hurt me.

  I close my eyes and press my lips to his. Our kiss deepens and he pulls me fully on top of him. My hands run through his hair and he parts his lips and runs his tongue across my bottom lip. His arms wrap tight around me, pressing our bodies close.

  This is what we’ve been waiting for. Whatever wall was there between us, holding us back from moving forward, is gone in the new morning light.

  I have never felt so close to anyone in my life.

  I break free of the kiss and bite his lip, then descend to his chin, his jaw, his neck.

  He moans and takes my head in his hands. I look up to find him looking at me with such passion, it takes my breath away.

  “I love you,” he says.

  I feel his words all the way down to the deepest part of my heart. “I love you too.”

  “Where do we go from here?” He swallows and licks his lips. “I want you so badly, but I don’t want to rush you.”

  “I want to be with you, too,” I say. My heart is pounding. “But at the same time, it’s hard because those memories are tied to sex which makes it complicated. I don’t want to freak you out if I have a memory that makes me need to stop or whatever.”

  He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses the skin along my knuckles softly.

  “Then we’ll take it slow,” he says. “I’m going to listen to you and if you need to stop or slow things down, or if you’re just not ready yet, I’m okay with that. I’ll never judge you, Leigh Anne. You don’t ever have to worry about what I think of you or how I feel about you, because right now and for the rest of my life, I am going to love you with all that I am.”

  His words sink into my heart like a healing balm.

  I kiss him again, then run my hand down his chest. I find the edge of his tshirt, then slip my hand underneath, exploring the warmth of his skin with my fingertips. His stomach shudders at my touch and he gasps. His hands pull my tank top into a fist and he arches upward, grinding his body against mine.

  Our kisses are slow and deep, our hands taking their time, exploring every inch of exposed skin.

  But I want more.

  I slide off to the side, then run my finger under the waistband of his jeans. He moans and closes his eyes. My pulse thunders in my veins and I reach for his belt buckle. His hand reaches for mine, his eyes questioning.

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “I can wait if you need to.”

  I smile. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  We undress each other slowly, taking our time with every moment. Every kiss. Every touch.

  My body aches for him and when I can’t take it any longer, I move on top of him, my legs straddling him, our eyes locked. He laces his hands in mine and I press them back against the floor by his head. His chests rises and falls beneath me, his breath catching as I lower myself onto him.

  He moves slowly at first, making sure I’m comfortable, then as our passion rises, he moves his hands to my hips and thrusts deeper.

  I surrender myself to him without fear, and with his body and his love, he begins to heal me in a way I never knew was possible.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “I wish we could stay here forever,” I say.

  Knox has fixed a small picnic on top of the bar. Fruit, peanuts, trail mix, and juice.

  “You’ll probably change your mind about that when this place is filled with drunk people around midnight.”

  I laugh and start peeling an orange. “I do need to figure out where I’m going to stay for a while,” I say. “At least until I can get my own place.”

  I know my parents are probably already freaking out about me not coming back home last night. I’ll have to go back and get the rest of my things eventually, but for now, I really don’t want to see them. At least not my mother.

  “You can stay with me,” he says, leaning across the bar to kiss my cheek.

  I blush, thinking of what it would be like staying in his apartment. I haven’t even been to his place before.

  “Too bad the lake house isn’t fixed up yet,” I say. In my head, I’m already dreaming of living there with him someday. Our own little paradise outside of town and away from everything.

  “It’s getting there,” he says. He takes my hand in his. “We could step up the work on the renovations if you want. I bet I could have it fixed up enough to at least have the basics like plumbing, electricity, a basic kitchen by the end of the summer if we put enough time into it.”

  I smile. “I like the idea,” I say. “I could enroll here at FCU to finish school.”

  “Or if you want to go back to Boston, I could get an apartment there for a while,” he says. “At least until you graduate.”

  “You’d do that for me?” I’m not used to someone really considering what I want and being willing to sacrifice something they love to make me happy. “I couldn’t let you do that. There’s no way you’d be able to afford a place big enough to work on your furniture designs.”

  “We’ll see,” he says with a smile.

  I shake my head, but inside, I feel warm and happy. I realize a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Just the act of telling and being heard has freed me of so much tension, and I feel stronger than I have in over a year. Instead of being locked in the past, I’m thinking of my future again. It feels really good.

  I know I must look a mess with yesterday’s wrinkled clothes and my hair still wild from
sleeping, but Knox doesn’t seem to care. Still, I need a shower and a change of clothes.

  “When does your shift start tonight?” I ask.

  “Six, I think, why?”

  “What time is it now?” I grab his wrist and turn my head to the side so I can read his watch. Seven in the morning. Plenty of time. “Do you think we can head back to your apartment so I can get a shower and get cleaned up? That rain really did a number on my hair.”

  I lift up and take a look at my reflection in the mirror behind the bottles of liquor. My normally straight hair is frizzy and wild.

  “I think you look gorgeous,” he says.

  “You’re the only one,” I say. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  We clean everything up and head out through the back door. Knox has his arm around me and we’re smiling as a flash pulls my attention away from his face.

  A large crowd lines the area behind the bar. People are shouting and taking pictures. I lift my hand to the back of my neck and look around, trying to figure out what these people are all taking pictures of. Knox’s arm tightens around my waist.

  A microphone is shoved into my face and the panic takes my breath away.

  The truth slams me back against the door.

  They know.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Leigh Anne, is it true you filed a report with campus administration last year accusing actor Burke Redfield of sexually assaulting you?”

  “Ms. Davis, are you familiar with Molly Johnson’s lawsuit against Burke Redfield?”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Davis, can you tell us if you plan to file official charges?”

  “Are you and Molly Johnson working together to destroy the actor’s career?”

  The questions rattle by at lightning speed and my head swims. I can’t figure out why this is happening. How the fuck did they find out? We did everything we could to keep this a secret. They can’t possibly know.

  Knox recovers faster than I do. He pulls me tight against him and pushes through the crowd, shielding me as best as he can from the photographers.

  We’re almost to his truck when a cold hand wraps around my arm and a sharp voice shouts in my ear. “Don’t say a word, Leigh Anne.” I turn to see my mother. Her head is ducked low and she’s guiding me away from Knox. “Just keep your head down and walk.”

  My father appears out of nowhere and parts the sea of reporters while my mother pushes me forward, down the sidewalk, toward my father’s car. The door opens and just before I’m pushed inside, I turn to look for Knox.

  But he’s already gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  My mother guides me to the couch and sits next to me, her hand clasping mine.

  I’m so inside my own head right now, I barely notice that there are other people here until an unfamiliar voice booms through the hallway.

  “I got him out of the way as soon as I could,” he said. “He put up quite a fight, I’ll tell you that. It might take some work to convince him to stay away. Do you want me to go talk to him?”

  I lift my head and blink. I don’t recognize the man, and I can’t see who he’s talking to. I know who he’s got to be talking about, though, and I don’t like it one bit.

  “Who is that?”

  “That’s Bernard Hunter. He works for Mr. Wright.”

  I open my eyes wide and for the first time since we got inside the house, take a real look around. My father is on the phone by the fireplace speaking in hushed tones. His forehead is creased with worry. Angela Simpson, my father’s secretary, is typing furiously on her laptop at the kitchen table. I lean forward and see that Mr. Wright, Preston’s father, is standing in the hallway with Bernard.

  I stand and pull my hand away from my mother’s. “What do you mean by convince him to stay away? Are you talking about Knox?”

  My mother sighs heavily and comes to stand beside me. “Listen Leigh Anne, this could get out of control very fast,” she says. “It’s bad enough that they found out about this at all, but how do you think it looks to have you coming out of some redneck bar in the early light of morning looking like white trash snuggled up close to some nobody?”

  She might as well have slapped me across the face. Her words sting to the core of my heart. White trash? Is this what she thinks of me? “He’s not nobody,” I say. “I’m in love with him.”

  My mom grabs my arm and yanks me around to face her. “Now you listen to me, little girl. You have caused enough trouble for this family as it is without picking this moment to explore some rebellious phase you missed out on in your teens,” she says. She releases my arm and smooths her skirt. “None of us wanted this to come to light, but now that they know, we’ve got to do everything we can to contain this story.”

  I don’t like the sound of the word contain.

  “If you would have answered your phone this morning, you could have told us where you were and I could have sent your father to come get you,” she says. She presses her hand to her forehead and paces the area beside me. “I wish we would have found your car before they did. Now they have pictures of you with that boy and I’m sure they’ll have a field day with that.”

  “Why do they care about Knox?” I ask. “He doesn’t have anything to do with what Burke did to me.”

  My mother narrows her eyes at me in that way she has of making me feel about two inches tall. “Don’t be stupid, Leigh Anne. When it comes to cases of rape and sexual assault, it’s not exactly a good idea to go making yourself look like a whore.”

  Anger flashes through me so hot and sudden that I raise my hand to her without thinking.

  A strong hand reaches out to stop me before I make contact with her face and I struggle against him. My mother’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. She backs away from me and covers her cheek as if she’s felt the slap anyway. Does she really think she can just call me a whore without pissing me off?

  “Let’s just calm down for a minute here, folks.” Tripp Wright, Preston and Penny’s father, lets go of my wrist and puts his hand on my shoulder. He motions toward the couch. He has one of those low booming southern gentleman voices that commands the attention of a room, and everyone looks to him to solve this great problem.

  I know I’m being handled, but I’m outnumbered so I sit down on the edge of the couch.

  Wisely, my mother chooses to sit in the chair that’s well out of my reach. I can barely bring myself to look at her.

  “No, it wasn’t ideal for you to come out of that bar with him,” he says. “The press in these types of cases likes to look for any chance to stir the hornets’ nest, so if they can find a way to discredit you in some way, they’ll try to do it. We’ve all seen that happen with Molly already. Still, the story is very new and most of the big news stations haven’t caught wind of this and gotten themselves down here yet. I’ve already got my family attorney out there explaining to the ones who are here now exactly why they should just forget that photo of you with Knox this morning. The story is that your car broke down in the storm last night and the two of you got stranded inside and fell asleep. I think they can be persuaded to keep the picture out of the papers just this once if we’re lucky.” He raises an eyebrow at me, as if to make sure I understand what he’s telling me.

  My shoulders drop and I swallow hard. “You’re saying I can’t see him again.”

  His mouth contorts into a look of sympathy and understanding, but I know it’s an act. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have some personal interest in the whole thing. “It’s for the best,” he says. “Besides, if you really do care about that boy, you’ve got to see that it would be better for him if he wasn’t dragged into it right along with you. Especially with his record.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “He was a juvenile when he went to jail,” I say. “His records are sealed.”

  He glances at my mother, then sits down next to me on the couch. “Technically yes, the details are kept under wraps, but that doesn’t mean the press won’t get ahold of t
he story.”

  “He was a teenager who did some drugs,” I say. “He’s been clean for years. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal is that he was incarcerated for aggravated assault.” He pauses and I know there’s more coming. I brace myself. “Of a woman.”

  I sit back against the couch. That can’t be true. Knox wouldn’t hurt a woman. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m afraid it’s true,” my father says. He’s finally off the phone and he comes to stand beside my mother. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “I saw the report myself.”

  I let my head fall into my hands. I remind myself to breathe. How could everything go from perfect to disaster in the snap of a finger? For the past year, I’ve been a floating ship with no anchor and no wind in my sails. The second I start to feel the stirring of hope, something has to come and bring me back down to the watery depths.

  “The assault charges are bullshit,” I say. “He told me the victim came forward afterward and told the truth.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Mr. Wright says. “I can have my people do some more digging, but it won’t make any difference. The story will be spun any way the press wants to spin it. All they have to do is say you’re dating a man who went to jail for assaulting a woman.”

  He doesn’t have to spell it out for me. I see the red flags flying. If my name is going to be released by the press as a potential victim of the infamous Burke Redfield, the last thing I need is for my name to be linked to some guy who assaulted a woman. There won’t be any easy way to explain that. The press will paint me as a reckless girl who makes bad choices and can’t be trusted. They’ll judge me in a heartbeat and discredit me faster than I can explain myself.