“I can’t have anything ever happen to you.” If he died because of me, I’d never survive that.
“If you don’t tell me, I will find out. And then it will be worse.”
He was right. I knew it and yet, I didn’t even know where to start. Maybe if I told him some of it? It would satisfy him and still keep the truth hidden, which would protect Deck against him.
“What happened after Connor died? After I left?”
I stiffened and turned slightly so I could look at him. “How did you know?”
He sighed and kissed my forehead. “I don’t. But I have a feeling that whatever this is—that is when it started. When I came back you were different. Colder. Innocence gone. Harder and sassy as hell. Too much sass. I figured, it was you trying to break free from the perfection you used to live under, but you went one hundred eighty degrees in the opposite direction.”
I nodded. Yeah, that was because I’d been broken and had to live with pieces of myself.
His hand stroked my abdomen slow and steady and his breath whispered across my ear. “Let me in, babe.”
I linked my fingers with his. If I told him about Robbie, maybe he’d leave the other alone and I could still keep him safe. “I was a mess after Connor died. Think you know that. I just didn’t care about anything anymore. My parents wanted life back to routine as soon as possible, but the reality was nothing was routine anymore. My mother cried all the time. I rarely talked and when I did it was … well, sarcastic and mean.” I swallowed and took a deep breath. Deck continued to stroke my abdomen, soft and rhythmic. “He was a senior at my school.” His hand stopped moving and I could feel his heart skip a beat and then pound harder. “I don’t know why he picked me … but he did. Maybe I looked vulnerable. Easy prey.” I stopped for a few seconds, hating that I had to give Deck this part of me that was weak and pathetic.
“What did he do to you, Georgie?” His words were coarse as if he had trouble getting them out.
I told him about Robbie, the words coming out as if I was reading them from a book. It was the only way I could speak. I felt the tension in him, the stillness. He continued to soothe me, but it wasn’t me who needed soothing anymore. I knew without looking at him every word I spoke made him angrier than I’d ever known him to be.
“When did it stop?” His voice was barely controlled, a chord of tones strung so tightly it could snap any second.
“He was arrested for selling drugs at school. I never saw him again.” When the police pulled up to the school with their lights flashing outside the window, I knew. I knew Robbie was leaving and ten minutes later, I saw him handcuffed and being led out to the car. I knew who had called the police on him and I knew Robbie would have hard drugs in his locker as proof because I put them there. It was enough to be considered a dealer.
The police car drove away and it was as if the door to a trap had opened and I was set free. I put my head on my desk and sobbed so hard the teacher ended up taking me to the infirmary and called my parents. My mom came and picked me up, but I told her I was crying because of my period pains. She believed me, and why wouldn’t she? I was always their little princess.
After that day, I could breathe again. For months, I’d been afraid. Terrified to speak to anyone, to run, to not run. To do anything except suffer. I’d never take the risk of anyone I loved dying—never.
“Do your parents know?”
I shook my head. “No. I never told them.”
He had been the one to call the police. He was also the one who gave me the drugs to plant in Robbie’s locker. He told me going after Robbie for what he did to me and to other girls would mean going to court. It would be a long, drawn-out battle and I’d have to tell everyone what happened to me. Plus, there was always the possibility they wouldn’t have enough proof and he’d walk. So, Robbie went to jail for drugs and I was finally free of him. That was all I cared about at the time.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell them? Jesus, you could’ve called my unit. Someone would’ve got hold of me.” He turned over onto his back but took me with him, flipping me over so I was half on top of him. His arm was still around me preventing any escape, and his other was over his eyes.
“He threatened my mom, said he’d cut out her throat if I ever said anything. I was sixteen, Deck … I believed him. It started only a week after Connor died and I was vulnerable, depressed and I felt … alone.” My cheek rested on the tribal ink drawn into his chest. “And scared.” Deck squeezed me.
“I would’ve killed him.” And that was the issue. I knew that. Even at sixteen, I knew Deck and Connor—if he’d been alive—would’ve killed Robbie and ended up in jail themselves. It wasn’t something I was willing to risk even if I had considered trying to get hold of Deck.
I nodded and my cheek rubbed on his chest.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t. He’d been looking for Robbie ever since he left prison.
I felt his body stiffen. “I’ll find him.”
I sat upright, putting my hands on his chest. “Deck, no. You don’t understand—”
His brows lowered over his darkened eyes. “Oh, I fuckin’ understand. Some guy tortured you for months when you were sixteen. A fuckin’ disgusting lowlife who doesn’t deserve to breathe air.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his cell.