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“But he hits you,” I said quietly, and for some damn reason, my chest began to squeeze.
She nodded slowly. “He didn’t hit me often. You know, it wasn’t all the time. Sometimes he would just grab me or yell at me. He always—always—seemed to regret it afterward. Or at least his apologies seemed believable, and I always forgave him.” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “No one has ever said anything. Not until you did. I think it was partly because he’s been—uh, losing his cool a lot more lately, but everyone just looked away.”
“It’s hard to say something,” I said, tucking my left leg against my chest. “I didn’t want to make you mad.” Or embarrass her because that was the main emotion I had felt when my family discovered what I’d been hiding.
“I wasn’t mad. I was ashamed,” she said, confirming my thoughts. “Because why would I stay with him when it’s so obvious he doesn’t treat me right?”
“Because sometimes he treats you like a queen?” I fiddled with the frayed hem of my jeans. “And you hang on to those moments because you know he’s capable of being a good guy.”
I could feel her eyes on me. “You’ve been . . . ?”
Without saying anything, I nodded.
She let out a low breath. “And you broke up with him?”
“Not really.” I barked out a short laugh. “My mom and Cam saw the bruises and I finally told them the truth. I wanted to leave him before then, but I was scared and . . .”
“And you loved him?” she asked in a quiet voice that was laced with pain.
Tugging the little white strings on my jeans, I swallowed hard. “He was my first—first of everything. I thought I was in love with him. Looking back now, I know it was more about being afraid of being—”
“Alone?” she said, and I nodded. “We’re pretty stupid, huh? Being afraid of being single outweighs the fear of being hit.”
“You’re not stupid anymore,” I pointed out. “You broke up with him.”
“I did.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked tightly.
The squeezing pressure moved up my throat. I was happy for her—thrilled to be exact, but I knew this had to be hard for her. The first night things were over between Jeremy and me had been the hardest. Because like with Erik, Jeremy had this almost magical ability of making me forget the bad moments. He excelled at that, so much so that it was also one of the reasons why I hadn’t left him. Now that I was older, I realized that was a hallmark of an abuser. They could be as charming as sin when required, and that made them as dangerous as a rattlesnake.
“How did Erik take it?” I asked.
A wobbly smile appeared. “Not very good.”
My stomach tumbled a little. “He didn’t—”
“No! He didn’t. It was the opposite.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands. I put a hand on her arm and squeezed. “He apologized and cried and begged . . .” She shook her head. “He got angry at the end, but I left before it could go any further.”
“Good.”
She looked up, meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you on Sunday and for what happened when I came back with Erik. I do think it was an accident, but it shouldn’t have happened because when he gets angry, he doesn’t think.”
“Is that what made you break up with him?”
“Yes. And no.” She cleared her throat. “When Jase confronted him Wednesday morning and I found out that your knee was completely blown—”
“Jase confronted him?” I cut in, feeling my eyes widen as I stared at her.
She nodded. “He showed up right before we were leaving for classes. I didn’t know he’d hurt you that badly.”
I waved that off, feeling my pulse pick up. “What did Jase say to him?”
“Not much really. Jase told him that if you ever ended up hurt again, that he’d pretty much put him in a grave. Erik was in a mood.” Reaching up, she tugged her ponytail down. “He mouthed off and called you . . . called you a nosy bitch who needed to stay away from me.”
I didn’t give two shits what Erik said about me, but my stomach fell out of my butt.
“Jase didn’t take to that well,” she continued. “Neither did Erik’s face when it was all said and done.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I fought for breath as I flashed hot and cold. Images of Jase’s knuckles rushed through my head. He’d gone after Erik. Just like Cam had gone after Jeremy. In a way, history had totally repeated itself. Anger and disappointment and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge crashed together inside me.
