Rescuing Broken

by Gina Azzi

  Eventually, dusk falls, and the Kane household fills with the warm voices of men. Carter and Denver come home from wherever they were all day, joking nonstop, and pretending like it's normal that I would be back in their home after I left so dramatically the last time I was here.

  Jax watches me closely and I know there is so much we need to talk about. So many things I need to tell him. His eyes burn with curiosity and guilt. And fear. But for the moment, I’m grateful for the reprieve Denver and Carter provide. Delaying the inevitable with Jax for a little while longer, I hang on to the comfortable familiarity of the Kane home.

  "You guys wanna get a pizza?" Den asks, popping the tab on a soda can.

  "Sure," I say, relieved to be included again. The Kane family was once like my own and in a lot of ways, I missed Denver, Carter, and Daisy just as much as I missed Jax. When he left, I lost so much more than just him.

  "Pepperoni and onions," Carter decides, grabbing a bottle from the six-pack in the fridge and sliding onto the chair next to me. "Hi, Evie."

  "Hey, Carter."

  "How was your day?"

  I can't stop the smile forming on my face. Carter's always been too charming for his own good. "Not too bad. How was yours?"

  He shrugs, taking a swig of beer. "Coulda been better. I ran into a girl that hates my guts. Kathy Hayes from high school, remember her?"

  I nod, absently, trying to focus on what he's saying as the smell of beer wafts toward me, bringing me back to high school along with his words.

  The music is loud, and a thread of static runs through the beat, causing a slight jump in the speaker like a tick. I walk up slowly, intimidated by the crowd of my peers spilling out of the house onto the front lawn and hanging over the railings of the wrap-around porch, beer bottles and red Solo cups in their hands. It's one of the final parties of summer. It's one of the last youthful moments of innocence and wreaking havoc and the now. Next week, I report to BUDS. I begin my future as a West Point cadet. And all of these people, the ones I've co-existed with in the hallways of high school or sat next to in class the past four years, will also take the first step on their own paths. Away, here, it doesn't matter. A bittersweet tang hangs in the air as if everyone knows and feels it: tonight is the end.

  So I make myself walk up the steps to the front porch. Force myself to smile at acquaintances and exchange pleasantries with people I know but who've never known me. Not really. Jax's been gone for nine weeks now, and still I feel like a stranger coming to a party like this without him. Before he left, the reassuring weight of his arm resting around my shoulders and the calloused palm of his hand pressed against my hip would have relaxed me. The low rumble of his voice in my ear or the laziness of his laugh would have reassured me. I would have belonged here because I was with him and he belonged here. He belonged everywhere he went, owned the room or the house or the entire town with his easygoing affability and humor.

  Stepping over the threshold into the house, I'm swallowed by the swarm of the hive—the buzzing bodies of classmates and people from town. I glance around nervously, hoping to land on a friendly face that can pull me away from the center of the room to one of the shadows; I want someone to exchange a few words and laughs with and maybe even pull me into a goodbye hug that won't matter tomorrow when Carter walks up next to me, playfully bumping my shoulder with his.

  "I didn't take this to be your scene." He presses a quick kiss to my cheek and hands me a bottle of beer.

  I take the bottle from his fingers gratefully, relieved that I have something to do with my hands. Clinging to the neck of the bottle, I return the smile. "It's not."

  "Then why come?" He places his hand on the small of my back and gently guides me out of the busy foyer into the kitchen where some juniors are huddled around a keg, and a guy makes out with a girl in the corner. He's pushed between her thighs as she sits on the edge of the countertop, her fingers tangled in his hair.

  "To say good-bye, I guess."

  He nods, bumping fists with a guy who passes us, someone I recognize from the football team. Someone who knew Jax. A lump forms in my throat at the thought of him, and I struggle to swallow past it, to push it back into the recesses of my chest so it can bubble up at another time.

  "You think you'll miss this place?" he asks seriously, pivoting to face me and leaning against the stove, his legs crossed at the ankles.

  "No," I answer honestly.

  "Yeah, I wouldn't either if I could get out. You hear from Jax at all?"

  "A bit. He’s called and emailed me a few times."

  He blows out a deep breath. "Look, Evie, I know his leaving was tough on you. Tough on all of us really, especially Daisy." His face sobers at the mention of his little sister. "But he had to go. You know that, right? It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. He needed to find himself a bit, do something on his own. He couldn't just follow you to New York and wait in the wings while you changed the world." He dips his head to catch my eyes, grinning to take the sting out of his words. "He'd never be fulfilled doing that, you know? It's better this way. Now you can go to West Point with a clear head, be focused on your future, without having to worry about Jax or be distracted by him." He gives me a knowing look. "And he can become a man on his own terms. Feel me?"

  "Sure." I take a sip of the beer, the gulp pushing past the lump forming in my throat once more. I know what he says is true. Logically, it makes sense. Eighteen-year-olds falling in love barely have a chance at happiness these days. Toss in military service, training, and moving around, and it's a near impossibility. Someone will have to sacrifice, give up dreams, plans, and hopes, and Jax didn't want that someone to be him. I get it.

  "So, don’t worry about him. He made his choice and he picked enlisting. You've made your decision and are heading to West Point. Life is about to change for you. It’s your last night in your old life. Let yourself have some fun and enjoy everything this shithole of a town has to offer." He throws his arm wide, encompassing the party filled with drunk graduates. Carter smirks, his dimples deepening as he bends his knees to catch my gaze. "I promise you, you won't be coming back here. Might as well drink up tonight and party with the rest of us losers before you go and blaze your own trail, Evie Maywood. And despite whatever these fuckers say, or don't say, I'm rooting for you."

  A real smile crosses my face at his words.

  "Ah, there she is." He pulls me into a one-armed hug, pushing off the stove. "You were always too good for my brother anyway. Here's to one last hurrah." He clinks his beer bottle against mine.

  "Yeah," I agree, taking another gulp of the beer.

  "Have fun tonight but be careful, and let me know if you need anything, yeah?"

  "I will."

  "Now, I gotta go see about that blonde over there. Catch you later." He nods in the direction of a girl in the grade below me. Kathy Hayes. Her platinum blonde hair screams out from the crowd, her curves clad in a tight shirt and low-riding jeans. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and stands straighter, pushing her chest out, as Carter approaches. He wraps his arms around her waist, dipping his hands into the back pockets of her jeans and tugging her against him as she tips back her head and laughs. Her hands come up to rest on his shoulders. It's easy and carefree, familiar as if they've done this dance before.

  It's a sense of certainty, of knowing one’s place in the world, and knowing that they belong at this party, in this moment, together.

  It's something I've never known except for the brief times I was wrapped up in Jax.

  It's something I'm going to try for tonight. Just tonight.

  Carefree and fun and present in the moment.

  For one last time in this shithole town I hope I never return to.

  "Evie. Hey, you all right?" Carter's face swims before me as he waves his fingers in front of my nose.

  I note immediately that even though he's peering at me closely, he doesn't make any move to touch me.

  Jax is beside me in a m
oment, kneeling at my side. He places a hand on my knee, and I flinch in reaction. Carter looks away, and Jax's eyes shut, so I won't read the hurt in them.

  "I'm going to see if Den needs anything," Carter mutters, pushing away from the table.

  Jax slides into his vacant chair and leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his eyes focused on me. "Evie, love, what happened?"

  29

  Jax

  The fear receding from the depths of her eyes causes my chest to seize up. She looks like she literally saw a ghost at the mention of Kathy Hayes. It doesn't make any sense. Once Carter's out of the room and Evie and I have the kitchen to ourselves, I lean forward and ask her the question that's been burning me from the inside out since the first night we ran into each other. And this time, I think she may actually tell me the truth.

  Too much has transpired between us today. First, the letter, then the panic attack, now this. She’s on the verge of having a breakthrough or breaking; too much has happened in the past few hours to pretend otherwise.

  Her eyes take on the glassy shine of faraway thoughts, and her hands clench into fists, her knuckles turning white. "I went to a party. The last party of the summer. I always hated those parties, but I made myself go. I thought one day, I'll look back and wish I said goodbye to senior year, to this life, to all of it properly," she says, her voice low, monotonous. "So I went. Carter was there. He told me to be careful, to let him know if I needed anything. I started drinking, dancing and laughing—a stupid night of being carefree, of trying to fit in with everyone else one last time. And then everything became disconnected. I felt disjointed. Aware but unable to connect my own thoughts." She stares over my shoulder, her mind faraway. "Gary Reitter and Paul Hawkins…" Her breath catches, and her eyes squeeze shut. "We were in a room."

  Horror grips me and I feel the exact moment my blood turns to ice. I know the words that are going to spill from Evie's lips before she murmurs them; I think a part of me has known for a while, but I'm still not ready to accept them. I sit in stunned silence, both desperate for her to stop and anxious for her to continue.

  "They raped me. After they drugged me. They raped me, Jax." Her eyes latch onto mine as the truth spills from her pretty mouth with words she should never say. "I couldn’t, I couldn’t move. But I could see them and hear them. They kept laughing and calling me General Maywood. I still feel it over and over and so many little things remind me of that night, creep up on me when I least expect it." She pauses, her eyes regard me warily.

  My hands grip the base of the chair she sits on until my fingers feel like they’re going to snap. My mind is already playing out the scene. Acid eats at my stomach, bile creeps up my throat, and anger boils my icy blood to lava.

  "Carter found me."

  I recoil at this, as if she slapped me. What the fuck? My eyes bore into hers as I work my jaw back and forth, knowing that I can’t interrupt her to ask any questions. She needs to tell me this on her own terms, at her own pace.

  "He pulled them off me, cracked Gary's jaw and broke Paul's nose. I was so cold. I remember that. I was shaking so much I could hear my teeth clicking. Carter took care of everything. Denver came, and they wanted to take me to the hospital. They wanted to file a police report."

  "You didn't go?" I whisper, still processing that my brothers tried to save my girl when I didn't. My brothers have known this secret the whole time and haven't said one word in the past seven years.

  She closes her eyes. "I was scared and tired, and I just wanted to go home. They took me home, and I crawled into my bed and," she says, biting her bottom lip, "I never really got up again. At least, not the me you knew."

  "Evie." I swallow past the guilt that's building in my throat, hating myself more in this moment than I ever did in Iraq. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you. I should have—"

  "It's not your fault, Jax." She opens her eyes and squeezes my fingers, and I place my other palm over hers, reluctant to ever let her go again.

  "It is." I nod to emphasize my point. "If I was there, that never would have happened."

  "Maybe." She shrugs. "But you can't protect me from everything. It could have just as easily happened at some bar in New York City or after a night out at Raf’s. I think I blamed your leaving for so long because it was much easier than admitting the truth to myself." She smiles sadly. "I was too confident, flaunted the fact that I thought I was better than everyone. That's what they said that night and that’s how they taunt me every time I run into them now." She bites her lip hard and I can tell the words are painful for her to say. “’Not so confident now are you, General Maywood.’ They started with me in the Morris parking lot right before you got back. Jenny and Miranda saw them and wanted me to report them but I, I can’t.” Her eyes plead with me to understand.

  A tick in my jaw pulses with the anger raging inside. I want to chase them down and make them hurt for hurting Evie, for all the hell they put her through. I want to—

  “As time passed, I became more and more fearful of filing a report. It was stupid really, the best chance I had of them being held accountable for what they did would have been to report the incident immediately. But I was,” her eyes fill with tears and she pauses, taking a moment to wipe the back of her fingers across her eyes.

  I stay frozen to the spot, my fingers still gripping the seat of her chair. Too scared if I move to grab her a tissue, she’ll stop talking, I wait for her to continue.

  “I was so ashamed,” she cries and my heart shatters in my chest at the anguish in her voice. “I was so scared. I kept thinking about what everyone would think of me. I kept thinking about Mom and Graham and the Army. What if no one believed me? If I had been raped, why didn’t I report it that night? That’s what people would ask. And the thought of having to answer everyone’s questions was too overwhelming. So I just tried to forget the whole thing and then,” she sobs harder now and I squeeze her fingers lightly to let her know I’m here for her, “they became Army!” Her eyes blaze with anger, her lips raw from where she raked her teeth over them.

  "Evie, you have nothing to feel ashamed about. You’re so brave, so courageous to—"

  “No,” she shakes her head vehemently and I stop talking. “Don’t say that. Don’t you see how weak I am? If I couldn't get past that, how was I ever going to be a leader? Possibly lead people into war zones and on missions where the risks and stakes are so much higher?"

  "No." The harshness of my tone takes her by surprise and she shrinks back. "Evie, you are the strongest person I've ever known. Carrying that around, dealing with it all by yourself for all these years... I'm in awe of you. You never allowed yourself to heal. That doesn't make you weak. Stubborn maybe."

  She snorts as tears leak from the corners of her eyes.

  "But never weak."

  She drops her head forward so it leans against my shoulder. "I'm stuck, Jax. I need to move forward, but I don't know how."

  "I understand that."

  "I have flashbacks, little triggers that set me off. Like the mention of Kathy Hayes, the smell of beer." She pulls back slightly and points her chin at Carter's beer bottle. I stand quickly, grabbing the bottle and moving to the sink to pour it down the drain. "Nightmares. I hate the quiet. I'm scared of the dark," she continues as I sit back down again.

  "It's PTSD."

  "No," she says, shaking her head. "I see the guys who come back from war with PTSD. The things they witnessed, the guilt they live with, it’s not the same thing.”

  "Doesn't matter. Baby, you know this, you’re a Psychology major. You've experienced a traumatic event. PTSD isn't just for soldiers. It's for anyone who experienced or witnessed something traumatic. And flashbacks, nightmares, triggers, they're all part of it."

  "How do you know so much about this?"

  "Because I have it," I admit on an exhale. "And it sucks. But you don't, we don't, have to figure it all out alone."

  Her eyes bore i
nto mine, wide with hope and vulnerability and... trust.

  "We'll figure it all out together, I promise."

  "What if we can't?"

  "I'm not saying it's going to be easy, love. There's a lot we don't know about each other now. There's a lot that's happened. There's a lot we're both dealing with. But if we don't try, we'd be giving up on ourselves. And I'm tired of doing that."

  She snuggles closer to me again, bending at the waist and pressing her ear against my heart. My fingers lace through her hair, stroke her cheek, and keep her against me. She breathes me in for a few moments before pulling back and offering me a gift—the first true smile I've seen cross her face since I've been back.

  "You really want to be with me?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Okay. Yes."

  Taking her hand in mine, I kiss her open palm. "Evie, will you be my girlfriend?" I grin up at her, the tension subsiding into something lighter.

  She regards me shyly, her eyes shimmering with the moisture of her tears. "Yes, Jax. I'll be your girlfriend."

  "It's like high school all over again."

  "Nope," she says, shaking her head, "no letterman jacket this time."

  "I gave you my dog tags."

  She tilts her head to the left, as if considering this concession. "That's true. They're even better."

  "Really? Why's that?"

  "Because they're for forever."

  Tugging her hand, I pull her closer until she falls into me. Then I drop a kiss on her forehead before my lips seek hers again. I move slowly and carefully but she meets me halfway. Sealing the deal.

  We leave before the pizza ever arrives, slipping out the back door so Evie doesn't have to see my brothers so soon after confiding in me what happened that night. Although she seems okay, relieved even, she wants to go home, and I don't blame her. Confiding in someone about something that's held you hostage for years, something you've never felt comfortable talking about for the first time is emotionally draining. It's clear to me Evie is exhausted.