Itโs three hours later and after ten oโclock when I make it back home. I stayed with Allysa for another hour after Ryle left and then went back to my of๏ฌce to ๏ฌnish up a few things so that I donโt have to go in for the next two days. Whenever Ryle has a day off, I try to coincide my own days off with his.
The lights are off when I walk through the front door, so that means Ryle is already in bed.
The entire drive home I thought about what heโd said. I wasnโt expecting this conversation to come up so soon. Iโm almost twenty-๏ฌve, but I had it in my head it would be at least a couple of years before we started trying for a family. Iโm still not certain Iโm ready for it yet, but knowing itโs now something he wants someday has put me in an incredibly happy mood.
I decide to make myself a quick bite to eat before waking him up. I havenโt had dinner yet and Iโm starving. When I ๏ฌip on the kitchen light, I scream. My hand goes to my chest and I fall against the counter. โJesus Christ, Ryle! What are you doing?โ
Heโs leaning with his back against the wall next to the refrigerator. His feet are crossed at the ankles and his eyes are narrowed in my direction. Heโs ๏ฌipping something over in his ๏ฌngers, staring at me.
My eyes fall to the counter to his left and I see an empty glass that probably recently held scotch. He drinks it on occasion to help him fall asleep.
I look back at him and thereโs a smirk on his face. My body instantly grows warm at that smile because I know what comes next. This apartment is about to become a frenzy of clothes and kisses. Weโve christened nearly every room since we moved in here, but the kitchen is one we havenโt tackled yet.
I smile back at him, my heart still beating erratically from the shock of ๏ฌnding him here in the dark. His eyes fall to his hand, and
I notice heโs holding the Boston magnet. I brought it from the old apartment and stuck it on this fridge when we moved in.
He places it back on the fridge and taps it. โWhereโd you get this?โ
I look at the magnet and then back at him. The last thing I want to do is tell him that magnet came from Atlas on my sixteenth birthday. It would only bring up an already sore subject, and Iโm too excited for whatโs about to come next between us to give him the naked truth right now.
I shrug. โI canโt remember. Iโve had it forever.โ
He stares at me silently and then straightens up, taking two steps toward me. I back myself against the counter and my breath catches. His hands meet my waist and he slides them between my ass and my jeans and pulls me against him. His mouth claims mine and he kisses me while he begins to lower my jeans.
Okay. So weโre doing this right now.
His lips drag down my neck as I kick off my shoes and then he pulls my jeans off the rest of the way.
I guess I can eat later. Christening the kitchen just became my priority.
When his mouth is back on mine, he lifts me and sets me down on the countertop, standing between my knees. I can smell the scotch on his breath, and I kind of like it. Iโm already breathing heavily as his warm lips slide across mine. He takes a ๏ฌstful of my hair and he tugs gently so that Iโm looking up at him.
โNaked truth?โ he whispers, looking at my mouth like heโs about to devour me.
I nod.
His other hand begins to slide slowly up my thigh until thereโs nowhere left for his hand to go. He slips two warm ๏ฌngers inside of me, keeping my gaze locked with his. I suck in a rush of air as my legs tighten around his waist. I begin to slowly move against his hand, moaning softly as he stares heatedly at me.
โWhere did you get that magnet, Lily?โย What?
My heart feels like it begins beating in reverse.
Why does he keep asking me this?
His ๏ฌngers are still moving inside of me, his eyes still look like they want me.ย But his hand.ย The hand thatโs wrapped in my hair
begins to tug harder and I wince.
โRyle,โ I whisper, keeping my voice calm, even though Iโm beginning to shake. โThat hurts.โ
His ๏ฌngers stop moving, but his gaze never leaves mine. He slowly pulls his ๏ฌngers out of me and then brings his hand up around my throat, squeezing gently. His lips meet mine and his tongue dives inside my mouth. I take it, because I have no idea whatโs going through his head right now and I pray Iโm overreacting.
I can feel him hard against his jeans as he presses into me. But then he pulls back. His hands leave me entirely as he ๏ฌattens his back against the refrigerator, scraping his eyes over my body like he wants to take me right here in the kitchen. My heart begins to calm down.ย Iโm overreacting.
He reaches beside him, next to the stove, and he picks up a
newspaper. Itโs the same newspaper he showed me earlier, with the awards article printed in it. He holds it up, then tosses it toward me. โDid you get a chance to read that yet?โ
I blow out a breath of relief. โNot yet,โ I say, my eyes falling to the article.
โRead it out loud.โ
I glance up at him. I smile, but my stomach is anxious. Thereโs something about him right now. The way heโs acting. I canโt put my ๏ฌnger on it.
โYou want me to read the article?โ I ask. โRight now?โ
I feel odd, sitting on my kitchen counter half naked, holding a newspaper. He nods. โIโd like you to take off your shirt ๏ฌrst.ย Thenย read it out loud.โ
I stare at him, trying to gauge his behavior. Maybe the scotch has made him extra frisky. A lot of times when we make love, itโs as simple as making love. But occasionally, our sex is wild. A little dangerous, like the look in his eyes right now.
I set the paper down, pull off my shirt, and then pick the paper back up. I start reading the article out loud, but he takes a step forward and says, โNot the whole thing.โ He ๏ฌips the paper over where it starts in the middle of the article and he points to a sentence. โRead the last few paragraphs.โ
I look down, even more confused this time. But whatever will get us past this and into the bed . . .
โThe business with the highest number of votes should come as no surprise. The iconic Bibโs on Marketson opened in April of last year, quickly becoming one of the highest rated restaurants in the city, according to TripAdvisor.โ
I stop reading and look up at Ryle. He has poured himself more scotch and heโs swallowing a sip of it. โKeep reading,โ he says, nudging his head at the paper in my hand.
I swallow heavily, the saliva in my mouth growing thicker by the second. I try to control the trembling of my hands as I continue reading. โThe owner, Atlas Corrigan, is a two-time award-winning chef and also a United States Marine. Itโs no secret what the acronym for his highly successful restaurant, Bibโs, stands for:ย Better In Boston.โ
I gasp.
Everything is better in Boston.
I clench my stomach, trying to keep my emotions under control as I keep reading. โBut when interviewed regarding his most recent award, the chef ๏ฌnally revealed the true history of the meaning behind the name. โItโs a long story,โ Chef Corrigan stated. โIt was an homage to someone who had a huge impact on my life. Someone who meant a lot to me. She still means a lot to me.โ โ
I put the newspaper on the counter. โI donโt want to read
anymore.โ My voice cracks on its way up my throat.
Ryle takes two swift steps forward and grabs the newspaper. He picks up where I left off, his voice loud and angry now. โWhen asked if the girl was aware he named a restaurant after her, Chef Corrigan smiled knowingly and said, โNext question.โ โ
The anger in Ryleโs voice makes me nauseous. โRyle, stop it,โ I
say calmly. โYouโve had too much to drink.โ I push past him and walk quickly out of the kitchen toward the hallway that leads to our bedroom. Thereโs so much happening right now and Iโm not sure I understand any of it.
The article never stated who Atlas was talking about. Atlas knows it was me andย Iย know it was me, but how in the hell would Ryle put two and two together?
And the magnet. How would he know that came from Atlas just by reading that article?
Heโs overreacting.
I can hear him following me as I walk toward the bedroom. I swing open the door and come to a sudden halt.
The bed is littered with things. An empty moving box with the words, โLilyโs stuff,โ written on the side of it. And then all the contents that were inside that box. Letters . . . journals . . . empty shoeboxes. I close my eyes and breathe in slowly.
He read the journal.ย No.
He. Read. The. Journal.
His arm comes around my waist from behind. He slides a hand up my stomach and takes a ๏ฌrm hold of one of my breasts. His other hand feathers my shoulder as he moves the hair away from my neck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, just as his ๏ฌngers begin to trace across my skin, up to my shoulder. He slowly runs his ๏ฌnger over the heart and a shudder runs over my whole body. His lips meet my skin, right over the tattoo, and then he sinks his teeth into me so hard, I scream.
I try to pull away from him, but he has such a tight grip on me he doesnโt even budge. The pain from his teeth piercing my collarbone rips through my shoulder and down my arm. I immediately start crying.ย Sobbing.
โRyle, let me go,โ I say, my voice pleading. โPlease. Walk away.โ
His arms are cutting into mine as he holds me tightly from behind.
He spins me, but my eyes are still closed. Iโm too scared to look at him. His hands are digging into my shoulders as he pushes me toward the bed. I start trying to ๏ฌght him off of me, but itโs useless. Heโs too strong for me. Heโs angry. Heโs hurt.ย And heโs not Ryle.
My back meets the bed and I frantically scoot back toward the
headboard, trying to get away from him. โWhy is he still here, Lily?โ His voice isnโt as composed as it was in the kitchen. Heโs really angry now. โHeโs inย everything. The magnet on the fridge. The journal in the box I found in our closet. The fuckingย tattooย on your body that used to be my favorite goddamnย part of you!โ
Heโs on the bed now.
โRyle,โ I beg. โI can explain.โ Tears streak down my temples and into my hair. โYouโre angry. Please donโt hurt me,ย please. Walk away, and when you come back, Iโll explain.โ
His hand grips my ankle and he yanks me until Iโm beneath him. โIโm not angry, Lily,โ he says, his voice disturbingly calm now. โI just think I havenโt proved to you how much I love you.โ His body comes down against mine and he takes my wrists with one hand above my head, pressing them against the mattress.
โRyle, please.โ Iโm sobbing, trying to push him off of me with any part of my body. โGet off me.ย Please.โ
No, no, no, no.
โI love you, Lily,โ he says, his words crashing against my cheek. โMore than heย everย did. Why canโt youย seeย that?โ
My fear folds in on itself, and I become diluted with rage. All I
can see when I squeeze my eyes shut is my mother crying on our old living room couch; my father forcing himself on top of her. Hatred rips through me and I start screaming.
Ryle tries to muf๏ฌe my screams with his mouth. I bite down on his tongue.
His forehead comes crashing down against mine.
In an instant, all the pain fades as a blanket of darkness rolls over my eyes and consumes me.
โข โข โข
I can feel his breath against my ear as he mutters something inaudible. My heart is racing, my whole body is still shaking, my tears are still somehow falling and Iโm gasping for air. His words are crashing against my ear, but the pain is throbbing in my head too hard for me to decipher his words.
I try to open my eyes, but it stings. I can feel something trickling into my right eye and I instantly know itโs blood.
Myย blood.
His words begin to come into focus. โSorry, Iโm sorry, Iโm sorry, Iโm . . .โ
His hand is still pressing mine into the mattress and heโs still on top of me. Heโs no longer trying to force himself on me.
โLily, I love you, Iโm so sorry.โ
His words are full of panic. Heโs kissing me, his lips gentle against my cheek and mouth.
He knows what heโs done. Heโs Ryle again, and he knows what heโs just done to me. To us. To our future.
I utilize his panic to my advantage. I shake my head and I whisper, โItโs okay, Ryle. Itโs okay. You were angry, itโs okay.โ
His lips meet mine in a frenzy and the taste of scotch makes me want to puke now. Heโs still whispering apologies when the room begins to fade out again.
โข โข โข
My eyes are closed. Weโre still on the bed, but heโs no longer fully on top of me. Heโs on his side, his arm wrapped tightly over my waist. His head is pressed against my chest. I remain stiff as I assess everything around me.
He isnโt moving, but I can feel his breaths, heavy with sleep. I donโt know if he passed out or if he fell asleep. The last thing I can remember is his mouth on mine, the taste of my own tears.
I lie still for several more minutes. The pain in my head begins to worsen with every minute of consciousness. I close my eyes and try to think.
Whereโs my purse? Where are my keys? Where is my phone?
It takes me a full ๏ฌve minutes to slide out from under him. Iโm too scared to move too much at once, so I do it an inch at a time until Iโm able to roll onto the ๏ฌoor. When I can no longer feel his hands on me, an unexpected sob breaks from my chest. I slap my hand over my mouth as I pull myself to my feet and run out of the bedroom.
I ๏ฌnd my purse and my phone, but I have no idea where he put my keys. I frantically search the living room and kitchen, but I can barely see anything. When he head-butted me, it must have left a gash on my forehead, because thereโs too much blood in my eyes and everything is blurry.
I slide to the ๏ฌoor near the door, growing dizzy. My ๏ฌngers are shaking so hard, it takes three tries to get the password right on my phone.
When I have the screen up to dial a number, I pause. My ๏ฌrst thought is to call Allysa and Marshall, but I canโt. I canโt do that to them right now. She just gave birth to a baby a matter of hours ago. I canโt do this to them.
I could call the police, but my mind canโt even process what all that entails. I donโt want to give a statement. I donโt know that I want to press charges, knowing what this could do to his career. I donโt want Allysa mad at me. I just donโt know. I donโt completely rule out eventually notifying the police. I just donโt have the energy to make that decision right now.
I squeeze the phone and try to think.ย My mother.
I start to dial her number, but when I think of what this would do to her I start to cry again. I canโt involve her in this mess. Sheโs been through too much. And Ryle will try to ๏ฌnd me. Heโll go to her ๏ฌrst. Then Allysa and Marshall. Then to everyone else we know.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and then begin dialing Atlasโs number.
I hate myself more in this moment than I ever have in my entire life.
I hate myself, because the day Ryle found Atlasโs number in my phone, I lied and said I had forgotten it was there.
I hate myself, because the day Atlas placed his number there, I opened it and looked at it.
I hate myself, because deep down inside, I knew there was a chance that I might one day need it.ย So I memorized it.
โHello?โ
His voice is cautious. Inquiring. He doesnโt recognize this number. I immediately start crying when he speaks. I cover my mouth and try to quiet myself.
โLily?โ His voice is much louder now. โLily, where are you?โย I hate myself, because he knows the tears are mine.
โAtlas,โ I whisper. โI need help.โ
โWhere are you?โ he says again. I can hear panic in his voice. I can hear him walking, moving stuff around. I hear a door slam on his end of the phone.
โIโll text you,โ I whisper, too scared to keep speaking. I donโt want Ryle to wake up. I hang up the phone and somehow ๏ฌnd the strength to still my hands while I text him my address and the
access code for entry. Then I send a second text that saysย Text me when you get here. Please donโt knock.
I crawl to the kitchen and ๏ฌnd my pants, struggling back into
them. I ๏ฌnd my shirt on the counter. When Iโm dressed, I go to the living room. I debate opening the door and meeting Atlas downstairs, but Iโm too scared I wonโt be able to make it down to the lobby alone. My forehead is still bleeding and I feel too weak to even stand up and wait by the door. I slide to the ๏ฌoor, clenching my phone in my shaky ๏ฌst and staring at it, waiting for his text.
Itโs an agonizing twenty-four minutes later when my phone lights up.
Here.
I scramble to my feet and swing open the door. Arms wrap around me and my face is pressed against something soft. I just start crying and crying and shaking and crying.
โLily,โ he whispers. Iโve never heard my name spoken so sadly. He urges me to look up at him. His blue eyes scroll over my face, and I see it happen. I watch the concern vanish as he darts his head up to the apartment door. โIs he still in there?โ
Rage.
I can feel the rage come off of him and he starts to step toward the apartment door. I grab his jacket in my ๏ฌsts. โNo.ย Please, Atlas. I just want to leave.โ
I see the pain roll over him as he pauses, struggling to decide whether to listen to me or bust through the door. He eventually turns away from the door and wraps his arms around me. He helps me to the elevator and then through the lobby. By some miracle, we only run into one person and heโs on his phone and facing the other direction.
By the time we make it to the parking garage, I start to feel dizzy again. I tell him to slow down, and then I feel his arm wrap under my knees as he picks me up. Then weโre in the car. Then the car is moving.
I know I need stitches.
I know heโs taking me to the hospital.
But I have no idea why the next words out of my mouth are, โDonโt take me to Mass General. Take me somewhere else.โ
For whatever reason, I donโt want to risk the chance of running into any of Ryleโs colleagues. I hate him. I hate him in this moment more than Iโve ever hated my father. But concern for his career still somehow breaks through the hatred.
When I realize this, I hate myself just as much as I hate him.
