HIM

  Ris’s mother is standing against the island in the kitchen with a coffee cup secured firmly in her hand. She is a tall, slender woman like Ris with platinum blonde hair, skin so dark from her obsession with the tanning booth, and lips so full that they may burst from all the filler she injects into them. She is wearing what looks like a black and pink silk sundress, but it could also pass as lingerie. She stops Luke with a halt of her palm against his chest while looking him over as if she will pounce at him at any given moment.

  "Gross, mother!" Ris growls at her as she grabs Luke's arm and saves him.

  "Your father is in his study," her mother mumbles.

  She seductively lifts her head and stares at Luke, then gives him a creepy wink.

  "Ew, mom! Just stop," Ris barks rudely at her.

  Luke looks at me, and we both laugh. He grabs hold of my hand tightly, and we make our way to Ris's father's study. Ris knocks, and we enter. Her father is sitting behind an elegant cherry oak desk with scrolled molding and is turned toward the windows speaking on his phone. The view is breathtaking; you can see the river and the lake from up here. He turns toward us and gives a wave as he continues with his conversation. He ends his phone call and stands up to shake Luke's hand while nodding at me.

  "I just got off the phone with the police department, and Mr. Adam's parents are encouraging him to file charges, but as of right now, he is not in agreement with them. Therefore, we are at a standstill until we get word of his decision," Ris's dad states right out of the gate.

  "What will happen if Brady decides to press charges?" I ask with lots of concern and some fear in my voice.

  Mr. O'Connor shifts in his chair and brings his hand to his face, making circular motions over his chin with his thumb and pointer finger. Then, he stops and leans forward as he looks at Luke and me.

  "Well, with a prior conviction on your record, Luke, one similar to this offense, you may end up seeing more jail time," he sighs.

  "Dad, is there anything you can do? He was defending Ali. Brady could have seriously harmed her," Ris shouts,

  She becomes quiet when her dad raises his hand to silence her. It's strange seeing her blunt tough-girl shell crumble in the presence of her father, who is tough in his own way. She acts proper around him most of the time, and when her usual self-pokes through, he finds a way to level it. He's not mean to her, but stern and loving. Their relationship is strong, way better than the relationship she has with her superficial mother. Ris and her father are close, a lot like the relationship I had with my father. However, I feel that he was more laid back than Mr. O'Connor.

  "Larissa, this is a worst-case scenario I speak of. You know I will do what I can for your friend and her boyfriend," he says.

  He gets up from his chair and walks over to her, kissing her on top of the head.

  "I need a moment alone with Ali, please."

  Luke grabs me and presses his lips against mine. I hug him and lean into his gentle kiss.

  "Don't worry! I will keep my freak of a mother away from Luke," she whispers and gives me a wink.

  After Luke and Ris leave, Mr. O'Conner asks me to sit next to him on the leather vintage type sofa bench that rests against one of the large windows overlooking the river. I sit next to him and rest my hands in my lap. I'm nervous right now but very comfortable with Ris's dad; I know he's on my, well, our side.

  "Ali, I need you to tell me everything you remember from last night and anything else that may have happened before this altercation with Mr. Adams," he says in a soft and calm voice.

  I take a deep breath in and sigh loudly as I release my breath. I can feel tears well up in my eyes as I take them off the floor and bring them to Mr. O'Connor's. He leans toward me and places his hand on mine while placing a box of tissues in between us.

  "Everything you say is between us, and it will stay confidential unless you want to release it," he says with reassurance.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  I start at the beginning, not leaving a single detail out. I tell Mr. O'Connor that I arrived back in the city Thursday afternoon, just in time for the four o'clock meeting at Facade. I disclose to him that Brady did not act any differently toward me or anyone else at work that day than he had in the past four years that I've worked with him. I mention that Brady asked me to dinner, just him and I, claiming it was a business dinner to discuss the Christiansen account that I had recently landed.

  I continue to tell Mr. O'Connor that Brady picked me up that evening and brought me to his parent's house, where we dined with them and his little sister. Mr. O'Connor leans back against the window and crosses his leg over his thigh, catching the heel of his foot as he rests his ankle upon his knee, listening attentively.

  "We had a lovely dinner, with a few different courses. Each course was accompanied by a different glass of wine that paired well with that particular dish," I say.

  "How much wine do you think you consumed yourself?" asks Mr. O'Connor.

  "I never finished a full glass before it was taken, and a new one was then set in its place," I reply.

  "If I had to guesstimate, all together, I had approximately two glasses, no more than that."

  "And how much do you approximate Mr. Adams consumed?" he questions.

  "Um... he finished every glass he was given and also had his glass refilled a few times," I answer.

  "So, four glasses? Six glasses? How many would you say?" he inquires.

  "At least eight, but he did not seem or act drunk from what I recall," I utter.

  Mr. O'Conner begins to rub his chin with his thumb and forefinger back and forth across the jawline of his chin. I take a deep breath in and exhale before I begin to continue to what took place next. I freeze and take another deep breath.

  "Take your time, Ali," he whispers warmly.

  I hate having to relive this day over and over. I progress forward to what took place in Brady's parent's back yard and how he kissed me. First, blaming the wine and the assumed moment he thought we were having, then somehow turning it around on me in a negative way. I explain what took place next that caused us to argue over me not wanting to kiss him, then me storming off back to his parent's house.

  "Mr. Adams was mad you did not want to kiss him after he kissed you, then he apologized for being angry with you over the fact?" Mr. O'Connor asks.

  I assume piecing everything I am saying together.

  "Yes. Then he pinned me against the door; I slapped him when he tried kissing me again," I swallow.

  "After I slapped him, he then threatened me and threw me to the ground," I say about ready to cry.

  Mr. O'Conner takes a tissue from the box and hands it to me. I thank him and dab at the corner of my eyes.

  "What did he threaten?" he asks.

  "He said you're going to wish you never fucking did that, his exact words," I stammer.

  "Then, what happened next?" he inquires.

  I look down at my lap, where I am fidgeting with the tissue between my fingers. A few tears spill from my eyes, darkening the fabric on my shirt. I take another deep breath and exhale in short, stuttered spurts. Mr. O'Connor uncrosses his legs, putting both feet firmly on the floor, and leans his elbows on his knees as he rests his fist in the palm of his hand.

  "He," I take a deep breath and release it.

  "He carried me over his shoulder into the pool house. I tried to fight my way down, but he was way too strong for me."

  I drop my head down toward my lap and begin to cry, trying to catch most of my tears with the tissue in my hand. It is so painful recalling everything again.

  "Did something happen in the pool house, Ali? Something without your consent?" he asks, his voice shaky.

  I nod, unable to look back up at him. I continue to cry. He places his hand over mine.

  "Are these bruises on your arms from that very night?" he questions.

  I nod again. My head still hung down toward my lap, tears flowing down my cheeks like a river.

  "Did he—" Mr.
O'Connor stops and brings his fist to his mouth.

  He then breathes heavily out his nose.

  "Did Brady Adams force himself on you in the pool house Thursday night?" he asks with pain and disgust behind his voice.

  I slowly bring my eyes from my lap to meet his. He looks deep into my eyes, his shoulders sink, and his eyes gloss over. He stands and walks to the door. I drop my head back toward my lap. I hear him stop before he opens it; I slowly look over at him. He's looking at me and wipes a tear from his eye. He calls Ris in and asks Luke to wait a moment in the hall. She rushes over to me and holds me tight as I cry hard into her chest.

  "Did she tell you about the—" Ris begins to say.

  "Yes, she told me what happened at his parent's house," her father sighs, feeling quite shaken.

  "Did she tell you what he did to her yesterday morning at work? I witnessed it all," she continues.

  Her father sits at his desk and cups his hands to his face, right under his eyes. He closes his eyes as he sighs into his hands. Ris then tells him what she witnessed Brady do to me under the table during our morning meeting. I could hear his breathing grow heavier as she spoke about the incident.

  "Something needs to be done to that disgusting piece of fucking shit, dad. Excuse my French," Ris growls.

  "No!" I whimper. "Please. I don't want any more trouble!"

  "Why, Ali? He needs to be punished. He needs to be stopped before he does this to someone else," she yells.

  Just as her father tells her to calm down, and I begin to ask that it stay between us, Luke barges through the door. Mr. O'Connor stands from his desk, staring at Luke. Ris looks at him then at me while I stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

  "He does what to someone else?" Luke demands.

  The room goes silent, and Luke walks closer to me.

  "Tell him, Ali, he needs to know," Ris says sternly.

  "Larissa!" Mr. O'Connor murmurs under his breath.

  Luke looks at me, then to Ris, then to her father, and back at me. His face is turning red with fear, and worry grows behind his eyes. I lose it and begin to weep uncontrollably. Ris holds onto me tightly.

  "Tell me, please, Ali," Luke begs with concern and vulnerability in his voice.

  "Ris? What happened?"

  "Brady—"

  I gasp as Ris speaks his name, about to tell Luke what happened.

  "Brady raped Ali the night she came back to the city," she chokes out then begins to cry.

  My tears subside for a short moment as time stands still after the words spill from Ris's lips. I slowly bring my eyes closer to Luke's. He's standing across the room from us. His body has become lifeless, and his voice completely mute. A silence overcomes the large study as all eyes are on him in anticipation of his reaction. He has a blank expression on his face, and he's staring toward the floor. He moves slightly, gradually curling his fingers into fists, and his face is becoming a light shade of bluish-white.

  "Luke," I whisper hoarsely as I stand to my feet.

  He doesn't move; he doesn't even blink. I can see his chest move up and down with each breath he takes. I walk over to where he stands, stopping a few inches in front of him. His hands still firmly molded into fists so tight his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched shut, and his eyes are burning a hole through the floor.

  "Luke," I say again.

  My eyes fill with tears, and my body shakes with nerves.

  I take a deep breath, then a step closer to him, and bring my hand to touch his face. He steps back from me, bringing his eyes to meet mine. His eyes are narrowed and are carrying a mixture of shock, anger, and sadness. I longed to lose myself in the once beautiful ocean color, but they have lost their vibrant hue and have become dull. His cold gaze sends a shiver up my spine. I need him to move, to speak, something- anything. Luke stares right through me as if I don't exist, yet his eyes are fixated on mine. I blink, and a few tears cascade down my cheeks.

  I wish he'd wipe away my tears with his thumbs, kiss me, and hold me while telling me that everything will be okay. Instead, he's motionless, not speaking, and I can see the light once burning inside him has gone dim. I slowly bring my hand to meet his fist. He doesn't step back or dismiss my touch this time. He blinks rapidly as tears build in his eyes, he sniffles, looks at Ris, to Mr. O'Connor, then back down at me. The life I once saw leave his eyes is slowly returning as he peers into mine. The pain, sadness, and anger behind them are unbearable to see, but I can't look away from him. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Luke lowers his eyes from mine, removing his fist from my touch. He turns away from me then walks out the door.

  "Luke, wait," I say in a terrified voice, and go after him.

  Mr. O'Connor stops me, and Ris hurries to my side.

  "Let him go, give him some time. He needs time to process everything," Mr. O'Connor says calmly.

  I wrap my arms around Ris and cry hard, so hard that I can barely breathe.

  "Dad, what if he goes out looking for Brady?" Ris whispers, with worry in her voice.

  "I'll keep a close eye on him, don't you worry. You tend to your friend," he says, kissing Ris's cheek then leaves his study.

  Ris wraps her arms around me and rests her cheek on top of my head, rocking us slightly back and forth. I wish all this had never happened. I wish Luke and I decided to go back to my apartment after dinner yesterday instead of going to the club with Ris and the others. I wish I never accepted Brady's dinner invitation. I wish my father had never died.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Hours have passed, and no sign of Luke. He hasn't shown up at the apartment, Ris's parents, or even the police station. His phone goes straight to voicemail, and his car is still parked next to mine. Where could he have gone? I pace back and forth across our loft as Ris stares out the window from the couch. I know she is worried about me and for Luke. Her father informed us that he hadn't received word of Luke finding Brady. But he did receive a call from the police station that Brady will not be pressing any charges.

  He asked if I would like to press charges against Brady for the altercation that took place in the night club as the police are hounding him about it. I tell him no. I want everything to go away and my life to go back to normal. I want Luke here with me. I want to see his gorgeous smile, hear his deep laugh, and have him stare at me the way he does. I need to know he's okay and that we're okay. I lay down on the couch and stare off.

  I'm awoken from my sleep when Luke runs his hand across my cheek. I smile, closing my eyes as I take in his touch. He sits down on the couch, shirtless. His body, eyes, smile, and lips are as gorgeous as ever.

  "I'm so glad you're back," I whisper.

  Luke puts a finger to my lips as he hushes me, then bends down toward me, and kisses my forehead. He presses his lips against mine in a firm kiss. I open my eyes as he parts from our kiss.

  "I love you, Ali," he whispers.

  I awake in a panic from the couch, looking around in the darkness. I startle Ris awake from the chair in all my commotion. I scramble to my feet then search the apartment for Luke. No sign of him. His bag of clothes still rests on the floor in my room. I grab my phone, its after midnight. No text or call from Luke; I dial his number, and it goes straight to voicemail again. I rush out to our parking ramp to see his car is no longer parked next to mine. My heart sinks inside my chest as tears well up in my eyes. I didn't think I'd have any left to shed for how much crying I've done lately. He left. He left me.

  I want to call Ernie or Jason to see if Luke's made it back, but it's too late. I will call them right away in the morning. I try calling Luke again, but his phone is still off. Ris touches my shoulder.

  "Do you want to go see if he is still somewhere in the city?" Ris asks softly.

  "I don't know," I reply, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

  She tucks her arm underneath mine and walks me back to our apartment. I wish he'd just let me know he's okay, at least.

  I stare out the win
dow of our living room with my chin rested on the back of the couch. My mind is entirely blank, and I cannot see any of the twinkling lights from the city perfectly in view. I'm numb. I've lost the one good thing going in my life that made me happy, made me my best self, and made me feel like I could conquer the world.

  I WAKE UP AGAIN, FRANTICALLY from the couch. Ris is asleep in the chair next to me. She looks so uncomfortable but is such a good friend to stay out here with me when she could easily be sleeping comfortably in her bed. I check my phone and see that it's quarter after four in the morning. There is still no text or call from Luke.

  I walk into the kitchen, yawning and stretching my arms, to make a pot of coffee. I'm going to need it today. I must meet Barrett at Facade to run over my working from home, set up with IT, then drive the five hours back to my dad's.

  I wander down the hallway to my room; I enter my bathroom and turn the water on to run myself a bath. I debate whether to add bubbles. Pondering the thought longer then I should, I decide to add some bubble bath.

  I throw my hair back in a messy bun on top of my head and pull down on the bags under my eyes as I look myself over in the mirror. I head out of my room back into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. I hold the sides of my steaming cup of joe as I stare off into space. I snap out of it when I remember that I have a bath running. I rush back down the hallway to my bathroom with the cup of coffee in my hand. The bubbles are high above the tub but are not spilling over. I shut the water off, slowly sliding my clothes down my body, and dip a toe into the tub.

  The water is stifling, so I draw my leg back quickly and add some cold water. Once I get the temperature bearable, I step in and sit down with the bubbles hugging me. I glide my hands back and forth across the top of the water before I lean back, resting myself against the cool porcelain of the tub. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, then exhaling as I try to relax. I drift into a zen-like state as my steamy hot bath engulfs me. Memories of my father from when I was a child fill my mind. He is who I would turn to in situations like this. He's the one who I would cry to about Brady and Luke. He would make everything better, show me a different and more positive way to look at, and approach it all, and it would then set me at ease.