Page 78 of Broken Pieces

Chapter Thirty

Brooks

I get her back home quickly. I carry her out of the car and straight into the bathroom. I set her on the counter so I can turn on the water in the shower.

When I turn around my heart breaks. She looks defeated. Death warmed over. I lift her chin up and look into her eyes. There is no life in them. I wrap my arms around her and to my surprise she wraps her arms around me too. I press a kiss to the top of her head and thank God I found her on the road.

I pull back from her when she starts to shiver. I slowly peel her clothes off her and place her in the shower.

She is wasted and I don’t think she will be able to stand at all. I don’t even bother with my clothes. I set my phone on the counter, kick off my shoes, and step in the shower behind her. The water is warm and helps calm her shivering. I grab my shampoo and wash her hair before I take my body wash to her body. I clean every inch of her while she stands there in an almost catatonic state.

I turn off the water, wrap a towel around her, and set her back on the counter. I peel my shirt off and my shorts and grab myself a towel.

I carry her into my bedroom. I lay her on my bed and wrap her in blankets. I turn to leave when she whispers, “Please don’t leave me.”

I rush back to the bed and clasp her cheeks in my hands. “Baby, I’m not leaving you. I just need to grab my phone. I need to call Easton.”

She closes her eyes at the sound of Easton’s name and nods.

I press a chaste kiss to her lips and walk back to the bathroom.

I make a short, quick call to Easton and reassure him that she is okay. I don’t give him any details. I just want him to know I have her.

I walk back to my bedroom and crawl under the covers with her. I pull her into my chest as I let her silent tears pour from her eyes.

* * *

I text my brother early the next morning and tell him I can’t work today. He says most of the fields are flooded so there isn’t much we can do until the water drains.

I look over at Rae who is curled into a ball next to me. She cried for a good thirty minutes before she passed out. I stroke her hair as she sleeps. Wondering just what I would have done if I lost her last night. I also wonder how the hell I am going to face her when she is sober knowing that I am in love with her.

I get out of bed and grab a big glass of water, a bottle of Gatorade, and some Advil before crawling back into bed with her and pull her into my arms.

We both wake up a few hours later. Her eyelashes fluttering against my chest. I know she is going to want to keep quiet. I know she is going to hide behind the walls she’s built. But there is no way I am letting her go.

I am completely surprised when she starts talking, her voice raspy. “I thought I knew how much it hurt to lose someone when my parents died.”

I reach over her to grab the provisions I left on the nightstand. She thanks me and continues. “But when Tyler died, I lost it. I lost me and everything that I knew I was. Did you know I was supposed to go to Yale?”

I look down at her and shake my head. “I was. I was supposed to go there for business. I wanted to learn everything I could about running my own business and when I graduated, I was going to go to cooking school and learn everything I could about baking. I was going to open a bakery. It was a dream of my mother’s she never got to do. It was Tyler that encouraged me to do it. He said I helped him chase his dream of playing pro-football and he was going to help me chase my dream as well.”

“How did you meet? I knew of Tyler Green, he was the star football player. But, no offense, you two don’t seem like a likely couple.”

She laughs into my chest, her fingers making lazy circles across it. “We sure were on opposite ends of the social ladder. He was dead set on going pro. He knew he was going to get a full ride into a top college, but his grades were not the best, so I became his tutor the beginning of senior year. We didn’t get along very well at first, but when his mom died of cancer not soon after I started tutoring him, we connected. He knew I had lost both parents and he leaned on me to help get over the death of his mom. He brought out my personality, helped me open to people. We dated all senior year, I was in love with him. We were in love with each other.

“We were supposed to go to a party a week before he was to leave for Alabama State, where he got his full ride for football. But he had fallen back into a depression. I never really knew why. I assumed it was over his mom. But a few friends urged me to go to the party anyway. So I did. We were all drinking a lot. This guy gave me a drink and I knew he was a douche, but I was buzzed and didn’t want to lose the feeling. It wasn’t long after when he dragged me into an empty bedroom and raped me.”

I clench my arms around her. I had seen the report but hearing it from her mouth is worse.

“His name was Derrick Hardy, a stupid jock on the football team. He drugged me and raped me. Luckily, he was found guilty and got ten years for the crime.”

My arms tense at the name, warning bells going off in my head.

“When Tyler found out he was angry that he wasn’t there to protect me. He was pissed at Derrick since they played ball together. A few days later Tyler killed himself. He wasn’t alive to know Derrick was found guilty. He didn’t get to play at Alabama. He never got his chance to go pro. And it’s all my fault because I had to go to that stupid party.”

I start to speak, but she cuts me off, “Don’t even say it’s not my fault. I’ve heard hundreds of people tell me that many times. But there was a note. He left a note behind that I have never shown anyone, not even his dad. He wrote that he was sorry he couldn’t protect me and that he loved me. He was supposed to be the strong one, he was supposed to be the protector of the family. The oldest of four, he had three younger sisters. And if he couldn’t protect his mom or me, how was he going to be able to protect them. I knew he was depressed, but his sole reason for committing suicide was because he couldn’t protect me. Me. The guilt I have over it sometimes helps me find peace within myself. I know it doesn’t make any sense. But to me it does. Almost like the guilt centers me.

“And that is why I have trouble every year on the anniversary. It’s not the rape or the fact I lost my dream but that I was the reason a bright burning star was burned out too early.”