by Maria Carter
Vanessa spoke first, exhaustion edging her voice. "I'm sorry. You were right."
Tom folded his arms across his chest. "I know. What happened?"
She shook her head. She was angry. Tom hoped she was as angry with herself as she was with Goe. This situation had only been a matter of time.
"It's hard to explain," she answered. "He sort of...trapped me for a few minutes. He got a little rough, but he didn't actually hit me. It was scarier somehow. I know you're mad, but I don't have any of my things. Can I please stay here tonight? I'll sleep on the couch and I'll call the police in the morning. Then I'll leave."
Tom sighed. "Do you remember what we talked about the first night he did this?"
"About how I would never go back to him? How I'd never call myself a victim because I wouldn't let myself be victimized? How long do you want to rub this in, Tom?"
"Are you really calling the police?"
"Yes. It went too far. I should have called before."
"Then I'm done. You can stay the night, but I'm expecting company. He'll be here any minute. Can you hang out in the bedroom while I explain the situation?"
Vanessa nodded and threw her arms around Tom's neck. He hugged her, and the last of his anger melted away. She seemed serious this time. He hoped she was. Vanessa grabbed a glass of water and give a tired wave as she disappeared into his bedroom.
A moment later, another knock sounded on the door. Tom took a deep breath and opened it. The corners of his mouth lifted almost of their own accord upon seeing Bommer's tousled blond hair and crooked grin. The taller man held a duffel bag in one hand, and, somehow, that was all he carried. Tom would have at least four bags for a weekend visit to anywhere.
"Hey," Tom greeted.
"Hey," Bommer answered.
Tom let him in, and Bommer set the bag down. There was a moment of awkwardness, a heated tension Tom just couldn't shake.
"It smells nice in here," Bommer said.
"Thank you. Green apple and honeysuckle."
"Oh." The blond hid a smile.
Tom frowned, though he couldn't really expect the man to understand the intricacies of scent. Then Bommer cut through the tension to land a long, sweet kiss on Tom's lips. Tom pressed his body hard against the mechanic's, reacting eagerly to the thrilling sensation rushing through his veins. But he had to cut it short.
"I have something to tell you," he said breathlessly.
Bommer cocked his head to the side and waited.
"Vanessa's here."
Anger sparked in Bommer's eyes. "What? Why?"
"I know. It's really bad timing, and I'm sorry. But her ex...She needed a place to stay."
"Where is she? Did you tell her?"
"The bedroom. And no. I would never tell her about you. That's for you. When you're ready."
Bommer took a deep breath and seemed to calm down. "Good. I told Eric earlier today. That was the hardest part. But I need to know you'll let me tell people on my own terms."
"I know," Tom answered softly, surprised by the news. "You told Eric?"
"Yeah."
"That's really brave of you."
Tom meant it. His heart was mush. This man took chances, risked life as he knew it, just to give them a chance to be together.
"Come on. Let's go say hello," Bommer suggested, back to his usual easygoing self.
Tom led him to the bedroom and cracked the door. This was it. The big secret he'd been keeping from his best friend was about to be revealed.
Or not.
Vanessa was asleep on his bed, holding onto his pillow, her pretty face almost peaceful. She was on her side, her baby bump clearly visible. Tom turned off the light and closed the door again. Bommer gave him a look of confusion.
"Tom, is she—"
"I guess we have the couch," Tom interrupted.
Bommer frowned, clearly not pleased with the lack of explanation for Vanessa's weight gain. But Tom raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Bommer let himself be led back into the living room, where wine and a large leather sofa awaited.
Vanessa woke the next morning nestled in Tom's 1500-count Egyptian cotton sheets, but she was far from well-rested. Memories of the previous night had never left her. She dreamed of Goe pinning her down and suffocating her, of miscarrying, of dying. But as she sat in bed, hugging her knees to her chest and staring out the window into the bright, New York morning, her thoughts were clear. Her mind was calm.
Vanessa would get her things, file charges, and explain everything to her parents. She'd need to figure out her living situation. The little money she made from tutoring wasn't enough to afford an apartment on her own.
One thing she knew for sure-the first step to getting her life back in order was coffee.
She opened the bedroom door and closed it softly behind her. The only light on in the apartment came from the kitchen. She heard the clinking of coffee mugs. But as she stepped through the dark living room, she saw Tom was still asleep on his couch, dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs. Something had certainly gone down that night, and that thing had probably been Tom. Vanessa wrinkled her nose and kept her thoughts on coffee. The person in the kitchen must be Tom's date. It was strange he slept over. Usually Tom didn't—
She realized who was making coffee before he turned around, but her jaw still dropped when Bommer's blue eyes met hers. A pain she hadn't been expecting clenched her heart. In Virginia, he'd looked nothing like his brother, but now the similarities were painfully obvious. Vanessa put the pieces together immediately. The lover Tom met in Virginia, the big secret, the man who burst into Bommer's shop, the man sleeping in Bommer's trailer...
"Oh," was all she managed to say.
Bommer grinned sheepishly and handed her a mug. The coffee was just the way she liked it, and that almost made up for the fact he'd been banging her best friend and her best friend had been banging Eric's brother. Almost. Bommer's gaze flitted to her stomach, and Vanessa put a hand over it in a weak attempt to hide the bump. Her face flushed. She wasn't sure how she felt about him knowing.
"Just tell me one thing," Bommer said. "Is it Eric's?"
Vanessa shook her head. Bommer's rEricef was almost tangible. With the reminder there was absolutely nothing tying her to Eric, the pain of leaving him sparked again. But she raised the mug to her lips and pretended to feel nothing. Bommer followed suit.
"I won't tell him," the mechanic said finally.
"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Vanessa answered.
Bommer shrugged. "It might."
"Does he know about you?"
"I told him last night. I'm trying to give him time to process. I don't think it's the right time to throw more surprises in the mix."
Vanessa raised her eyebrows but refused to offer an opinion. She didn't need to dwell on Eric the day she was having her baby-daddy arrested. Vanessa set her mug down and pushed herself away from the counter.
"I should go. I need to see my parents. Thanks for the coffee. Tell Tom I said goodbye."
Bommer nodded and sipped his coffee. Vanessa turned to go back in the bedroom. She was happy for Tom. He seemed happy. Bommer seemed happy. But the situation dredged up feEricngs she just didn't want to deal with—jealousy, regret, anger.
She rummaged through Tom's drawers, hoping her increase in size would put her somewhere near Tom's. His low-rise jeans weren't the most flattering piece of clothing she'd ever worn, but that and one of his tighter t-shirts would get her to her parents without making her feel like a leper. She sprayed some dry shampoo on the roots of her hair and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.
Her posture had been failing lately. She knew it had more to do with her disheartening relationship than the pregnancy. She forced herself to stand up straight. She was about to crush her parents' rose-colored view of her life and begin a legal battle with a very dangerous man. But she'd stand tall, and she'd get through it.
Vanessa grabbed her keys and left, avoiding Bommer and managing not to wake Tom.
She'd driven to his apartment, but if anyone saw her walking to and from the car, she would hopefully look like she was leaving in disarray from a romantic interlude rather than a victim of abuse.
There was a parking ticket stuffed under her windshield wiper. She hadn't had the money for the meter or the time to worry about it. She shoved the piece of paper in her glove box and started the engine. Too soon, she arrived at her parents' apartment. She let herself in the building, stood in front of the clean, white door, and knocked.
Her mother answered, dressed in slacks and a fashionable blouse, still holding a cup of coffee. Her surprise was obvious.
"Who is it?" Vanessa's father called from in front of the TV.
Vanessa looked around her mother to where her father sat in his easy chair.
"It's me, Dad. I need to talk to you. Both of you."
She looked at her mother. She felt the onset of tears but forced them back. They all sat at the dining room table. Her father seemed mildly curious. Her mother was anxious.
"Coffee?" she offered, still trying to sort out exactly what her daughter was wearing, why she was barefoot, and why she was there.
"No, thanks," Vanessa said. "I just wanted to tell you why Goe and I broke up before."
"Oh, it doesn't matter now, dear. You've sorted it all out—"
"No, we haven't. He hit me. After I caught him in bed with another woman."
The words came almost too easily. Her mother looked shocked, then horrified, then guilty. Her father was rigid with anger.
"Oh, honey, I had no idea," her mother said.
"I didn't want you to. Not after I found out about the baby. I thought we could make it work. I thought something might change. I was wrong. It's my fault. Just mine."
Her mother's eyes searched her daughter's body, looking for marks.
"There's nothing to see this time," Vanessa told her. "But he's done enough. I'm finished."
"Good!" her father barked. "You shouldn't have gone back in the first place. You should have told us. We'd have made sure it never happened again. I'm calling the cops."
Her father stood and grabbed the phone from its cradle. Vanessa held out her hand.
"I'll do it," she said.
"You should take a nice, hot shower," her mother corrected gently, voice cracking slightly as she placed a hand over her daughter's.
"No. I need to do it."
She continued to hold out her hand. Her father gave in, albeit reluctantly, and she dialed the police department under her parents' concerned gazes. A dispatcher answered after two rings. Vanessa toyed nervously with her keys, but her voice was steady.
"I need to report a case of domestic violence."
Eric parked his truck at B.S. Service Center on Monday morning. Bommer was back from his trip to New York. Eric was nervous. He grabbed a box of parts and banged on the door with his foot. He had to remind himself the man on the other side of that door was his brother, same as always. They just couldn't talk about girls anymore. That was the only change.
But it was very possible the fact that his brother had been so close to Vanessa had him more anxious than the fact he was gay. Bommer unlocked the door and propped it open. He looked tired after his late flight the night before, but there was no denying his happiness. That sealed the deal for Eric. He had to be supportive of his brother's decision or biology or whatever it was.
He set the box on the counter and lingered for a moment, as he usually did. His older brother's grin was tentative.
"Did you have a good trip?" Eric asked.
"Sure did."
"You and...uh...Tom still going strong?"
"Sure are."
There was a pause, and Eric couldn't keep the next few words from slipping off his tongue. "Did you see her?"
Bommer looked at him sympathetically. Eric resented it, but it was a pathetic question. Bommer nodded.
"Don't tell me anything."
Bommer shook his head, agreeing to the terms Eric hadn't known he wanted. Eric wasn't sure what else to say. There was so much emotion built up inside of him, emotion he'd been able to ignore until the jealousy of his brother being so close to the woman he'd loved reopened the wound and allowed resentment to fester. He needed some kind of protection. He needed to be sure he'd never have to hear his brother say her name again.
"I'll see you around, Bommer."
"Goe is out on bail, which we were expecting. I've filed the restraining order. You stay off his block, and he'll stay off yours."
It was Wednesday. Vanessa sat with her mother in the office of Esmeralda Esposito, Esq. Everything had happened so quickly. The police came, took her statement, looked at the photo of her black eye, and escorted her back to Goe's apartment to get her things. They arrested him on the spot, but she knew they couldn't keep him. He hadn't left a mark this time, and the bail was set too low.
"The hearing is in a week, and there are a few things I need from you," Esmeralda continued. "First, wear a dress like the one you have on now—one that accentuates your stomach. We're only seeing the judge, but they're just as capable of feEricng sympathy towards a pregnant woman as a jury."
Vanessa glanced down at her navy, A-line dress. It had been a little tighter than she'd hoped when she put it on that morning. But the lawyer was right. Showing off her baby bump on Wednesday couldn't hurt anything.
"Second, you need to make sure you explain exactly why you went back to Goe. You'd just found out you were pregnant; you were desperate; the first incident was the only time in a year he'd shown any type of violence. Make sure you say all of that. Remember, you need sympathy."
Vanessa glanced at her mother, who squeezed her hand and attempted a comforting smile. But she looked close to tears too often lately. Vanessa remembered her earlier resolve and squared her shoulders, held her head high. If her posture was strong, she could feel strong. She nodded.
"Lastly—" Esmeralda revealed an enlarged photo of Vanessa's black eye. She cringed. She didn't want to see her mother's reaction. "—Goe's lawyer is going to try and say this bruise was a result of your accident with the deer. Is there anyone who can swear under oath that these were two separate incidents? Someone who saw the bruise on its own before the accident?"
Vanessa pretended to wrack her brain, but she already knew exactly who could vouch for her. She squashed the building panic. Calling Eric and asking for a favor was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She couldn't handle dredging up those feEricngs and facing the inevitable rejection.
And she'd left without ever telling him the real reason.
Her eyes landed on her stomach again. How would he react? The emotional repercussions were too risky. She couldn't involve him in this mess.
"Is that really necessary?" she asked instead.
"Is it necessary for Goe to pay for what he did to you?"
Vanessa pursed her lips. Her lawyer was a smart-ass, but she wasn't wrong.
"I'll ask him."
"Him?"
"A man who...changed my tire in Virginia."
"Does he have a name?"
"Eric Sims."
"Good. I'd like to meet with him on Tuesday for a briefing. Give me a call when you've got him here."
Esmeralda stood and shook their hands with a smile, signaling the end of the meeting. Vanessa and her mother grabbed their purses and found the elevator.
"Are you okay?" her mother asked as they began their twelve-floor descent.
"I'm fine. I just want this to be over with."
"Do you think that man would really come all the way from Virginia to testify?"
Vanessa glanced at her feet. "I don't know."
"He was important, wasn't he?"
She met her mother's gaze. "Yes. For a little while."
Her mother squeezed her shoulders. She'd been oddly affectionate lately, making her think of Sharon, who had always been more than willing to offer physical affection. That wasn't to say Vanessa had ever felt a lack of affection from her mother. Like
everything else in the city, hugs and kisses were just done in a hurry. Vanessa sighed. Virginia was a wound that would take a very long time to heal, and now she had to call Eric and rip off the scab.
"Why don't we get some coffee?" her mother suggested as they stepped out of the elevator and onto the first floor.
"I've already had a cup today. I should probably just get back and make the call."
"Well, I might stop off at the café myself, then. My cell's on if you need me."
"Thanks, Mom."
They hugged, and her mother went to stand in line at the coffee shop. Vanessa left the building to hail a cab and stared at the screen of her phone in the backseat. Eric was still in her contact list. Her thumb hovered over the send button, but a call from Tom interrupted her trepidation.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Hey, Van."
"Hey, Tom."
"Lunch?"
"One o'clock?"
"I'll be there."
"Bye."
Vanessa ended the call as the taxi stopped in front of her parents' apartment building. She handed the driver his money and let herself in. Her father was out. She had the place to herself. It was now or never. Vanessa sat at the kitchen table, but, instead of calling Eric, she dialed Bommer's number.
"B.S. Service Center," he greeted, sounding chipper.
"Hey, Bommer, it's Vanessa."
"Oh, hey, Van." He'd begun calling her by Tom's nickname.
"I was wondering if you remembered when I first arrived in Virginia. How I had that bruise. From Goe."
"Yeah, I do."
"Could you testify that you saw it before the accident? My lawyer thinks Goe's attorney will try to make it look like they were part of the same incident."
"When would you need me?"
"Next week. Tuesday and Wednesday."
"I'd love to help, Van, really, but I have to put a new engine in next week. It's a big project. I don't think I can afford the time."
Vanessa felt a surge of annoyance. Wasn't testifying against Goe a little more important than an engine?
"If it were Tom who needed this, you'd be here in a second."
Bommer chuckled. "That's true, but you're not my Tom. You're Eric's Tom."