The Truths We Told

by Blair, E. K.

  “I need to ask you something you might not want to talk about.”

  My stomach curls into itself, and even though I want to run and push him away, the need to grab on to him is stronger.

  “What happened that night . . .” He starts and then hesitates before finishing. “Had it ever been worse than that?”

  My head drops, and I hug my knees a little tighter. These are the moments I’ve worked hard to avoid thinking about. It’s a pain I’m still trying to cope with—a pain I always assumed came from a place of love, but now know it didn’t. I’m not even sure if love was ever there on his end. I want to believe that it was because to think that he didn’t love me at all would hurt me even more—to know that I endured all of that for nothing.

  Trent lays a tender hand on my back, and when I lift my head to answer, remembrance salts the secrets I’ve held on to and I hesitate.

  “Was it ever worse?” he presses, furrowing his brows as if he’s bracing himself for the impact.

  I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt, but I rest my trust on his word that we are in fact solid when I finally nod.

  With a considerable sigh, his whole body goes tense with emotion. I want to reach out and smooth my hands along his muscles, but I’m scared to move. And then a thought occurs to me: What if I’m the one he’s mad at? After all, I’m the one who allowed it to happen, I’m the one who put myself in that situation, and I’m the one who stayed faithfully by his side.

  Knowing that I might be the cause of his anger kills me. I don’t want to be a disappointment to him. The idea stirs anguish inside me, and quietly, I begin to cry. When he sees my pain, he pulls me into his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimper.

  He shakes his head against mine. “No, I’m the one who needs to be apologizing to you.”

  Confused, I pull back. “For what? You didn’t do anything.”

  “Exactly. I didn’t do shit when I knew something wasn’t right.” He takes a slow blink, and it’s now I see the small puddle of tears rimming his eyes. “I didn’t know how to talk to you, and every time I tried, we’d end up fighting, so I backed off. I just . . . I had no clue it was as bad as what it was.” He rakes his hand through his long hair and pinches his eyes shut for a moment before confessing, “I did nothing to protect you.” His voice strains around each word.

  “Even if you had done something more than you already had, I wouldn’t have listened.”

  “Why?”

  There are a lot of reasons, none of which are easy to admit, but I can see the blame he holds for something he had nothing to do with, so I push past my humiliation and give him a piece of this very complicated puzzle I’m still trying to figure out. “Because it was how I knew he loved me.” He starts shaking his head, but I go on to add, “And because I thought I deserved it.”

  His face pains, and the urge to take it away is immense.

  “Tell me you don’t still think that.”

  “I’m getting there,” I respond, looking him in the eyes. The aftershock of what Caleb did to me has morphed into a shame I’m trying to find my way out of, but even though I know that what he did was wrong, I still struggle to accept that it wasn’t my fault.

  With his hand behind my neck, he pulls me into him, and I settle my head along the curve of his shoulder. I band my arms around him and take as much comfort from him as he’s taking from me.

  As close as we are, I still can’t shake the feeling that he’s disappointed in me for the choices I made, and I need to know where I stand in his eyes, so I ask, “Are you mad?”

  “What?” He draws back. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I did this.”

  “You didn’t do shit, Kate. I’ll tell you that for forever because you need to believe me when I tell you that you did nothing to deserve what he did to you.” Cradling my face, he adds, “I hate that piece of shit for getting inside your head and fucking it all up. What he gave you was nothing even close to love, and I know you think that I don’t have a clue about what love is, and maybe you’re right, but this”—he takes my hand and presses it against his chest—“these feelings I have for you . . . it’s fucking killing me to think that you believe someone putting their hands on you is love.”

  “I know.” Another tear drops. “I can see that now, but in the moment, when I was with him, I couldn’t.”

  “I need to know that you aren’t still hung up on him.”

  With my hand still covering his heart, I fist his T-shirt in my fingers and tell him, “No. I was for a while, but I’m not anymore. The only thing I’m hung up on are all the pieces he left me with. I’m still trying to sort through everything and make sense of it.”

  “I can understand that. This isn’t easy for me—letting someone into my life the way I want to let you in.”

  “It isn’t easy for me either.”

  “I want to be sure that we’re on the same page.”

  Shifting onto my knees, I sit between his legs, and this time, it’s me who takes him in my hands. His eyes bore into mine when I tell him, “You make me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt before. It terrifies me because you could easily hurt me.”

  “I feel the exact same way.” He takes me by the hips and pulls me on top of his lap, adding, “But I promise that I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Through fear and hope, I kiss him, and when I do, he drags his tongue along my salted lips, taking my pain and swallowing it whole. Gripping his hair in my hands, I hold on to him as I silently vow to do what I can to heal this damaged heart of mine. Trent deserves the best of me, and I want to be able to give it to him. I know I come with broken pieces, but maybe he’s the one who’s meant to gather them up, reshape and repurpose them, and then help me put them back together. I have to trust him enough to allow that to happen, and right now, with the stain of him on my tongue, I believe I’m ready to let some of these walls of mine down. Because I’m realizing that whatever hesitations I might have about giving my heart over to Trent, it’s too late—I’m already giving it.

  KATE

  Since the moment I woke this morning, I’ve had an unexplainable zing of energy. It’s my twenty-second birthday today. When I told Trent my plans to go back home to celebrate with my family, I asked if he wanted to come with me. He wanted to know if Caleb had ever been to my house to meet my parents, so I told him about Thanksgiving, that Caleb had come for the weekend. I explained why I lied to him about not being allowed to stay at the house, confided in him about how angry Caleb got when I refused to go with him to the hotel, how he put his hands on me and accused me of choosing my family over him. I was blind to the manipulation, but Trent’s been helping me see things more clearly, and now, when I look back, it’s easy to recognize that Caleb did that with everything. He always had to be my highest priority, no matter what, and if he ever felt that I was putting someone before him, he’d punish me and call it love.

  Clarity is a difficult thing to experience, but it’s helping me get to a more rational place inside my head.

  Trent couldn’t be any more opposite of my ex, and for that, I’m going into this trip with a lot less anxiety.

  While I wait for Trent to pick me up, I set my overnight bag next to the door. With Caleb still lingering in my thoughts, I find myself being pulled back into my bedroom. It was during Trent’s trip to La Jolla that I finally tossed the picture I’d been hanging on to. It felt good to finally let it go—a release I desperately needed.

  Opening my jewelry box, I pick up the diamond necklace Caleb bought me after the fight in Chicago. The sparkly pendant dangles from the delicate chain, and I wonder how I could have ever thought he gave it to me out of love when it’s so clearly nothing more than another manipulation.

  I’ve been hanging on to it because I’ve been trying to decide what I should do with it. Thoughts of pawning it have crossed my mind, but I don’t want the money, I just want to be free of the thing.

  When I walk into the bathroom and lif
t the seat of the toilet, I smile at how pissed he would be to know that all the money he spent is going straight into the sewer. I let go and it drops into the water with a soft plop, and for everything he put me through, I flush his expensive token of fake love.

  I stare into the bowl as it refills with fresh water and don’t think twice about my decision because I’m too busy enjoying the feeling of another broken piece of myself healing.

  There is a knock on my door, and I open it to find Trent standing there with a smile on his face and a present in his hands.

  “I said no gifts.”

  He steps inside and closes the door. “I suck at listening,” he says, handing me the box, which is wrapped in black paper with a leopard ribbon tied around it. When I give him an inquisitive look, he explains, “I had Ady wrap it.”

  From the size of the box, I can tell he didn’t get me some cheesy piece of jewelry.

  “Go ahead. Open it.”

  I untie the ribbon slowly, but once it’s off, I rip through the paper to find a Converse shoebox, and my smile grows when I lift the lid to find a custom designed pair of Chucks. “Oh my god,” I squeal as I pull out the shoes and toss the box onto the floor. Maybe some girls would be disappointed to receive something like this for their birthday, but not me. It’s so Trent, and the thoughtfulness he put into designing them is beyond sweet. “These are perfect!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” With a shoe in each hand, I sling my arms around his neck and kiss him, mumbling against his lips, “Thank you.”

  After kicking off the plain white Chucks I was going to wear today, I take the new ones over to the couch, sit, and slip them on. The bodies of the shoes are cherry red and the tongues and heel stripes are leopard print. He kept the sidewall and label classic, the way I like them, and added white contrast stitching.

  Once I’ve tied the bright white laces, I stand and admire the shoes before showing them off, asking, “How do they look?”

  “Turn around,” he requests, and I figure he wants to see the heel stripe, but instead, he playfully smacks my ass. “Looks fucking good.”

  I jump away and laugh.

  After cleaning up the wrapping paper, he grabs my bag and we head down to his Jeep. As he drives north, I can’t stop peeking down at my feet, and when he takes my hand and pulls it on to his lap, he asks, “What’s that smile all about?”

  “These are dope shoes.”

  He smiles over at me, and it couldn’t be more perfect. With each passing day, my heart falls for him a little more.

  “Are you excited to see your family?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I haven’t been home since spring break. Plus, Audrina will be there, and I haven’t seen her since last Christmas.”

  “Where is she going to college?”

  “She’s at the University of Alabama, but she’ll be studying in England for the next year. She leaves in a few weeks.”

  “England? What made her want to do that?”

  “She’s always dreamed of living abroad, so she applied to an art conservation program there. It was no surprise when she got accepted. Audrina is a lot like my mother,” I tell him. “She has lofty aspirations and likes the finer things, whereas my dad and I are more simple and laidback.”

  “It’s the same with Garrett,” he says as he merges off the interstate. “He’s always had his head screwed on tight.”

  An hour and a half later, I lead Trent into my parents’ house, but before I can announce that I’m here, my mother calls out, “Kate? Is that you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Trent and I make our way toward where we heard her voice, but she meets us in the hallway and pulls me in for a big hug.

  “How was the drive?”

  “Same as always.” I then take a step back. “Mom, this is Trent.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” she greets just as footsteps thunder down the stairs.

  My sister and I both squeal unapologetically as we run and hug each other. This is the longest we’ve been apart.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she bellows.

  “Me too.” Loosening my arms, I pull back and notice her new shoulder-length hair. “When did you chop all your hair off?”

  “Earlier this summer. You like it?” she asks.

  “I do. You look so much older.” She peeks over my shoulder, and I smile as I turn to Trent. “This is Audrina.”

  The two of them say their hellos before she leans in and whispers, “Is he your boyfriend?”

  Trent and I have managed to lay low for the most part, but when I asked my dad if I could bring him with me for the weekend, he obviously wanted to know who this guy was. I explained that we’re figuring it out and taking things slow. The last thing I wanted was my family to start forming any opinions before they met him.

  I completely dodge her question and turn back to my mom. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Right here,” he announces as he walks in from the backyard. He gives me an endearing smile and then opens his arms. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  I hold on to him longer than I held on to my mom or sister. Even though we talk all the time, I missed him and the comfort of his hugs that always make everything feel better.

  “It’s good to have you back home.”

  “It’s good to be home.” I smile. “Dad, this is Trent.”

  The two of them shake hands, and instead of my dad giving him a welcoming hi, he says, “Kate tells me you surf.”

  “Yeah, she had me bring my board.”

  “Is that right? What do you have?”

  “I brought my Pyzel Bastard with me. Just picked it up a couple of weeks ago when I was in California.”

  My dad smiles wide. “I have a Bastard myself.”

  “No shit?”

  My mother’s eyes widen when Trent cusses, but it doesn’t even phase my dad.

  “It’s old as hell, but it’s faithful,” he says. “I have a pretty decent collection that I keep in Kate’s room.”

  “You’re using my room to store your boards now?”

  “Your mom got sick of them being in our room,” he explains before turning to Trent. “Come on, I’ll show you what I got.”

  The two of them head upstairs, and I’m happy that my father is holding true to his word to go easy on Trent.

  As soon as the two of them are out of earshot, my sister teases, “He’s hot, like, in a bad-boy kinda way.”

  “What? He’s far from a bad boy.”

  “And he’s far from your ex too.”

  That’s the truth. When Caleb met my family, he was pristine in his tailored button-up and high-shine loafers. But Trent walked right in wearing shorts and a T-shirt with his long hair hanging out of his backward-facing Hurley ball cap, which is so weathered he really needs to throw it away.

  “So, what are the plans?” I ask my mom.

  “I think your dad is itching to spend time on the water with you, so I was going to take Audrina out shopping and let you have the afternoon with him. But tomorrow, before you leave, I’d like to take you out without the boys, if that’s okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I agree. “Sounds good.”

  When the guys come back downstairs, my father says, “Get your gear together.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Juno beach.”

  “I’ll grab the bags from outside,” Trent says.

  When he returns, I show him to the guest bedroom that’s down the hall from my room, and then I go change before we head out.

  The day couldn’t be more perfect. It’s almost always just me and my dad out here on the water, but to have Trent with us makes it all the better. The three of us catch waves, throw tricks, and idle in the water on our boards, making small talk. Seeing my dad and Trent get along so well makes me smile. It’s apparent that they have a lot in common, which I already knew, and although my father is a lot less crude with his language than Trent, their free-spirited personalities are very similar.

 
It’s one more thing that reinforces the idea that I’m right where I should be. Since graduating high school, I’ve battled with feeling out of place. When I was with Caleb, he vanished that insecurity, yet I still had so much in me that remained adrift. Now that I’m with Trent, everything just feels so right—everything is so much easier with him. I just wonder if I’m as good for him as what he is for me.

  KATE

  “There you guys are,” my mother says. “How was the beach?”

  “Perfect,” I tell her. “What’s for dinner? It smells amazing.”

  “Snapper, red potatoes, and roasted asparagus.” She holds out her arms to collect our towels. “Go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

  Showered and sun-kissed, I take a seat at the dining room table where my mom has already set and served our plates.

  “This looks so good,” Trent tells my mom.

  “Well, I hope you’re hungry because I made a lot of food.”

  “Dude, I’m so starved I could eat a limp biscuit,” he says as he picks up his fork and stabs a potato.

  My father clearly knows what he meant by that and starts laughing.

  “What’s a limp biscuit?” my mom questions.

  Audrina quickly warns, “Don’t ask.”

  Trent chuckles under his breath as I nudge him, but he ignores me and tells my sister, “You shouldn’t know what one is.”

  “Neither should Kate, but it’s obvious she does.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” I say.

  Both Audrina and Trent laugh while my mother lingers in the land of confusion.

  “So, Trent,” she says, “where did you grow up?”

  “Tampa.”

  “What do your parents do?”

  “My mom’s a pediatrician,” he tells her before taking a bite of his fish.

  “And your dad?”

  “Don’t know. He walked out on us when I was five.”

  His answer clearly surprises my family, but Trent is so nonchalant about it that they don’t seem to know how to react. I asked him once if he ever missed his dad, and he explained that it was hard for him to miss what he’d never had. Still, I think deep down, it bothers him, but he just hides it really well.