The Summer We Changed (Relentless Book 1)

by Barbara C. Doyle

  She smiles at me. “Seriously, Will.”

  I smile back. “Well thanks. I guess.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “What about you?” I return, trying to turn our focus around. “Guys are always checking you out, but you never talk about dating. How come?”

  She doesn’t answer right away. “The idea of dating makes me feel weird. It’s like I get bad anxiety when I think about being in a relationship. I don’t like losing control to someone.”

  I stare at her in awe. “Why?”

  She glances down at her uneaten pizza. “It’s stupid, right? You’d think I have a bad view of relationships because of it, but I don’t. My parents are disgustingly cute together after over twenty-five years of marriage. Even my older brother seems to have a decent relationship. I guess …” Her face pales. “I think it’s because of that one time …”

  She doesn’t have to continue. I squeeze her hand in comfort. “Shit, Tess. That makes sense. Relationships usually lead to more intimate stuff. I can see why that freaks you out.”

  She closes her eyes. I can’t help but notice how her breathing becomes unsteady. Thanks to me, she’s reliving her worst memories.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “Don’t think about it. It’s in the past, right? You’re not there anymore. You’re safe.”

  Her hand squeezes mine tightly, which I take comfort in. I tug her toward me, putting my arm around her shoulder. She leans her cheek on my shoulder, and takes a few deep breaths.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I should have known that had something to do with it.”

  After a moment, she says, “It’s not your fault that I’m screwed up.”

  I all but growl, “You are not screwed up. What that mother fucker did was not your fault. Don’t even think that for a second.”

  “I forgot to lock my door.” Her voice is cracked, defeated by memory.

  That night isn’t one I’ll ever forget. I was out late with a few buddies I met in one of my classes, spending time at the Fishtail Bar across town. I canceled my movie plans with Tess, something that guilt holds onto. If I hadn’t canceled, I would have been there …

  When I got back to our building, I felt off. Like my gut was telling me something was wrong. Then I heard her cry out. I saw the door wedged open. It was almost one in the morning, and Tess texted me saying goodnight nearly an hour earlier.

  I wouldn’t change one single thing about what I did to that fucker. Seeing him—what he was doing—I went postal. If the RA hadn’t come in with his football buddies, I would have probably bashed the dude’s skull in. And with any regrets? Not a damn one.

  I pull her away so I can look her in the eyes. It breaks my heart when I see tears streaming down her face. I want nothing more than to go back two years ago and beat his face in all over again. Shit, to go back and make sure it never happened.

  “Look at me,” I plead desperately. I gently tilt her chin up so we’re eye-to-eye. I’m hesitant, unsure of where my limits are when it comes to touching when she’s like this. It took her months, a solid year, before she was as playful with me as she used to be. Personal space became something she cherished, and I didn’t push her on it.

  “Tessa, I need you to understand that nothing about that night is your fault. That fucktard didn’t have to go in your room just because your door was unlocked; it was closed, there was no reason to. He sure as shit didn’t have any reason to put his hands on you without your permission. Everything that he did is entirely his fault. I don’t give a shit if he was drunk or not, or what excuse he used. He hurt you, and he deserves everything he got. Please, please don’t think that makes you screwed up. He’s the fucker who is screwed up. Worse, even.”

  Her eyes were nothing more than blank slabs of blue, coated with a glassy shine from her slowing tears. I wanted to take away the pain, the memories, the emotions tying her to that event. If I hadn’t come in when I did, things could have been a lot worse.

  I would never forgive myself then.

  I wrapped her in a giant hug, ignoring the sound of my pizza hitting the floor. Resting my chin on the top of her head, I breathe in the green apple scent of her favorite shampoo. When she starts crying into my shirt, I rub circles with my palm on her back. I try to comfort her, to hold her, to do anything it takes to know that she’s safe, and she always will be around me.

  Because she always is. Always has been.

  “It’s going to be okay, Tess,” I promise, lips pressed against the top of her head. I hold her until her sobs stop, and mumble the lyrics to one of her favorite songs: “Stand” by Rascal Flatts.

  After a long time, she mumbles, “I love you, Will. Thanks for everything.”

  I brush my fingers through her hair. “You have nothing to thank me for, Tess. I’ve got your back no matter what.”

  She hiccups, and pulls away. “I know, but that night …” She shakes. “You could have gone to jail. What happened could have ruined your whole scholarship. And—”

  “I’d do it again,” I tell her firmly. “I would beat that sick asshole’s face into the ground ten times over for you, Tess. Even if the repercussions were bad.”

  My grades in school are decent enough to get half my tuition paid. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to afford college. Hell, when things got rough at home, I took a year and a half off to help my parents, which is the only reason I’m still in school with Tess. I’m lucky the scholarship is still active now that I’m back.

  She sighs heavily. “You’re too good to me.”

  I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

  If anything, it’s the other way around.

  She lets it go. “I’m sorry for ruining your night. I know you weren’t looking forward to watching Disney movies in the first place, but then I made it depressing.”

  Wiping her damp cheeks off with the pads of my thumbs, I give her a warm, sincere smile. “I promise you didn’t ruin my night. You need to let it out sometimes, Tess. I know you stayed quiet for a long time over what happened, and that wasn’t healthy.”

  She grumbles, “You sound like my therapist.”

  I chuckle. “Well it’s true.” I shrug, adjusting her so she’s tucked into my side. “How about we watch the movie now and stuff our faces? Sound good?”

  Her stomach rumbles.

  She laughs lightly. “I guess so.”

  Something is wrapped around me, and it’s too solid to be my blanket. I try to remember where I am, cracking my eyes open, letting the sun smack me in the face. I blow out a quiet breath when I realize I’m in my room.

  The Jensen Ackles poster hanging across the room tells me I’m in a place nobody can hurt me, the familiarity of the pink walls and basic furniture evident that I’m not in my dorm.

  My nightmare came back, debuting itself despite how far deep I buried it. It stopped replaying almost a year and a half ago, but I guess bringing up old memories has a way of weakening my defenses.

  The residual of the dream has goose bumps on my arm, like I can still feel the unwanted touches against my skin. And even though there’s no alcohol around, it’s as if my nose can smell the bitterness of the brew radiating from his breath that night. I squeeze my eyes closed, reminding myself that I’m not there. That it’s not happening.

  Somehow, the chanting works.

  Suddenly, the wall of muscle behind me moves, and I yelp. Without thinking, I swing my arm up and connect my fist with something fleshy. A loud groan ripples from the mass of body heat behind me, along with quick movement. The weight that dipped the mattress down was suddenly gone.

  I sit up and look at Will, who has his palm covering his eye.

  “Will?” I whisper, chest rising and falling heavily.

  “Geez, Tess,” he groans loudly. He pulls his hand away, and the area my fist hit is already red. His eyelid is swelling, making guilt swarm my body.

  “Oh, God!” I squeak, quickly getting out of bed. I dash over to him, examining his eye.

  “T
ess—”

  “I’m so sorry!” I tell him, lightly touching the spot. He winces. “You need ice or something. I think we have a pack downstairs. If not, we have a bag of vegetables we can put onto it.”

  “Tess, I’m—”

  “You’re not fine,” I snap. “I hit you! I swear I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t know anyone was in bed with me. And after last time—”

  He pinches my lips together, shutting me up. It doesn’t stop me from rambling mumbled words that make no sense.

  “Tess,” he says slowly, “I’ll survive. Now I know not to scare you though. You have one hell of a fist there.”

  I blush. I tell him sorry, but my lips are still pinched together. It sounds more like alien language than an apology.

  Letting go of my lips, he eyes me. “I think I’ll take that ice now.”

  I sigh. “I really am sorry.”

  He rolls his eyes, and follows me downstairs. I don’t know what time it is, but I know it’s early morning based on the small amount of sunlight creeping through the blinds in the hallway. I can hear birds chirping outside, and I know it’s probably from the small birdhouse Dad built Mom years ago. He hates the amount of birds it attracts, but Mom loves it.

  I walk into the dark kitchen, and make my way to the fridge. I know we used to have ice packs in the small freezer above the refrigerator, but if not, a bag of frozen veggies would work just as well. Dad used a bag of corn on my older brother when he got hit in the side of the head during baseball practice years ago, and it seemed to work.

  Well, for the most part. I like to think Doug is brain damaged, but that’s just sibling talk.

  I end up finding a small ice pack and wrap it in a dish cloth before passing it to Will. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, with his hand covering his eye. I pry it away to see the damage done, and frown when I see his eyelid swollen closed. No doubt he’s going to have a shiner.

  Who knew I could punch like that? Not me.

  “Want some coffee?” I ask quietly, hoping caffeine can be a peace offering. I know he likes it, although he usually drinks it black. Gross.

  He just nods, wincing as he puts the cloth-wrapped ice against his face. Once he settles, he lets out a soft, tired sigh. “What time is it?”

  I peer at the clock on the wall. “Around six thirty. I’m sorry I fell asleep last night. I guess I just wasn’t feeling Moana.”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep either. I just got comfy after you dozed off and didn’t want to wake you up.”

  I have to agree. As soon as I snuggled into Will, my body eased, content. Sleepiness soon washed over me.

  Instead of admitting that, I opt to tease him instead. “You just wanted to finish the movie so you could sing along. Admit it, Will. You love that movie.”

  “It’s okay…”

  Which is Will speak for he loves it.

  Before I can say anything, Dad enters the kitchen, his gaze darting back and forth between Will and me. He eyes the ice pack Will has on his face, and slowly turns to me.

  “What happened to him?”

  I cringe. “I hit him.”

  Dad grins. “That’s my girl.”

  I sigh heavily. “I didn’t mean to hit him. He startled me when I woke up.”

  Dad’s eyes narrow. “So that means he slept over last night?”

  Will clears his throat nervously. “We fell asleep watching a movie. If it makes you feel better, Tess hit me pretty hard. Wouldn’t be shocked if I get a black eye.”

  Dad’s grin widens.

  I swat his arm. “Stop looking happy! I feel awful.” I direct my attention to Will. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital so we know your eye isn’t damaged.”

  Mom walks in and asks, “Whose eye is damaged?” She looks at Will and gasps. “Erik, what did you do?”

  Dad seems offended, his arms shooting up in the air. “Why do you automatically think I did something to the kid? It was Tess who hit him!”

  “Tessa,” Mom scolds.

  “I didn’t mean to!” I defend.

  Mom relents. “Let me see your eye, Will,” she coaxes, taking the wrap away.

  Her lips press together in a thin line as she assesses the damage. She’s been a nurse for over twenty years, which is a good thing in the moment.

  “Keep the ice pack on it for a few more minutes and let’s see if the swelling goes down,” she directs, smiling. “I think you’ll be fine, but I want to make sure your eye will open more. No doubt you’re going to have a mark.”

  I frown. “Will—”

  “I told you I’m fine,” he says quickly. “I can see a little bit already, so the swelling is going down. I’ve been through worse.”

  “But I’m not the one who hurt you before.”

  He shrugs. “If I can survive a cow kicking me, I can survive this.”

  I grumble to myself, but don’t argue. I remember when the cow kicked him. He broke two ribs and had to take it as easy as possible. He always complained about not being able to help out at his family’s farm. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to go back after that.

  But cows terrify me anyway. I blame Will for that. When we were little, he convinced me to go to the farm with him and watch his parents do chores. We were playing in the barn when Will pushed me a little too far, and I fell into the getter. I managed to land somewhat on the pad where the cows were, which almost got me stepped on. If his dad hadn’t grabbed me, I would have been stomped to death.

  So the farm life? Not for me.

  After pouring Will a cup of coffee and sliding it to him, I poured one for both my parents. They doctor it up to how they like it, milk and sugar, and then join Will and me at the table.

  “So any plans for the day?” Mom asks, looking between us.

  Will answers first. “Chores with my dad and brother like usual.”

  I just shrug. “Sleep? I don’t know.”

  Mom sighs. “You need to go and do something, Tess. It’s summer! You should be blowing off steam before senior year starts.”

  I cringe at the thought. I don’t want to think about senior year, even if I am excited about some of my classes. It just means being closer to graduating, and I have no idea what the next step is. Not thinking about the stress of getting a job and paying off loans is so much easier.

  “What about hanging out with friends?” Mom continues. “I mean if Will is busy at the farm, you can go out with some of your old high school friends.”

  Now that makes me snort. “What friends? I barely talked to anyone besides Will. The girls in my grades were all stuck up.”

  Back in high school, I was the misfit. I didn’t play sports, I wasn’t in any clubs. Going out didn’t interest me, which meant parties were a no-go. I was the weird introvert, open to bullying because of my quietness. I wasn’t popular, not even hanging with Will and the guys. I was just the extra wheel who tagged along.

  She sighs. “Well you can’t just sleep the day away. I know since the motel shut down you’ve been out of work, but what about your photography? I know plenty of people who would love to get pictures done by you.”

  I love that Mom wants me to pursue something I love, but taking people’s pictures just isn’t what I want to do. I love photography when there aren’t any obligations attached. If I have to take pictures, there’s no fun in it. It’s a chore, not a passion.

  “That reminds me,” she adds. “How was the concert?”

  I know the last thing Will wants to talk about is Ian’s band, so I try keeping it casual. “It was fun. I got some great pictures.” I drink my own coffee. “I’ll consider what you said about doing pictures for work. It could be fun.”

  But it won’t, I silently add.

  She smiles. “I’m glad.”

  Dad looks at Will. “How’s the eye, son?”

  As much as Dad wants to hate Will, he always liked having him around. I think with Doug gone, it’s like he has a son again; somebody to relate to. Although, that doesn’t st
op him from threatening Will’s life if he ever hurts me. Not that Will ever would. Dad is just … a dad.

  Will pulls the ice back. His eye is opened more than it was, and a faint blue color is taking over under his lower lash line. I try to smile and tell him it doesn’t look bad but …

  Dad laughs. “My little girl has quite the punch,” he says proudly. “That’s going to hurt for quite some time.”

  “Dad!” I chide.

  Even Mom laughs. “Well, if it’s bruising already, it means you hit him pretty hard, sweetie. Remind me not to mess with you.”

  My face heats up.

  “That bad, huh?” Will asks.

  I smile lightly. “It’s not that ba—”

  “It is,” Dad cuts in. “Are you going to tell everyone that my daughter did it? Or are you going to try making the story manlier?”

  Will rolls his eyes. Or eye, really. The eye I hit doesn’t really roll as easily because of the slight swelling still there.

  Will grumbles. “My brother won’t let me hear the end of it otherwise …”

  “Or your father,” Dad adds.

  Will sighs, because it’s true.

  Mom swats at Dad. “Be nice, Erik.”

  Dad just shrugs.

  Finishing his coffee, Will passes me the ice pack. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “William!” Mom scolds. “You need more than coffee for breakfast. Take a bagel with you. Or a piece of fruit.”

  Will sighs. “I’m not that hungry.”

  Mom eyes him until he succumbs. I don’t envy him. The look she gives can make your skin crawl. Will says I have the same look, but I guess it comes in handy occasionally if nothing else.

  “Can you see all right?” I ask, passing him an onion bagel from the bag. I know the weirdo prefers eating them raw over toasting them, so I don’t bother asking if he wants me to put it in the toaster.

  “Yes, Tess. I told you I’m fine.”

  “I’m just making sure,” I mumble, a frown setting on my face as I take in the damage.

  If only I had the strength two years ago.

  He takes a bite of the bagel to appease my mother. Smiling at him, she pats him on the shoulder.

  “Take some Motrin for that eye. It’ll help,” she recommends, taking his coffee cup and washing it.