by Selena Kitt
‘I’m working through some stuff. When I get through it, I’ll tell him.’
She links her arm through mine but doesn’t look at me. ‘The guy who hurt you, he’s not Ben.’ She doesn’t get to say anymore, because Leila starts crying.
Ben walks back to Lisa. ‘OK, I’m giving her back to mum now. I think she’s scared of the big, ugly guy.’
‘She’s getting cranky because needs a nap,’ Lisa says as she takes Leila from Ben’s arms. ‘We should head back home.’
We say our goodbyes, and Ben slides his arm round my waist as we walk back home.
Home. I roll the word around in my head. It’s strange, and I don’t know when it happened. Can’t pinpoint an exact date when my flat went from a depressing and terrifying prison to a home with love and laughter and safety.
‘I love Sundays.’ I lean my head against his arm.
‘Me too.’
When we get back to my flat, a car is parked next to mine. I recognize it instantly, and the breath freezes in my throat as though someone’s squeezing the life out of me.
Ben must feel me tense up beside him, because he looks first at the car and then me with a concerned expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
That’s when the car door opens. Theo’s dad steps out and says, ‘We need to talk.’
Chapter Fifty
Ben
Grace’s face turns white. I know who this man is. I’ve seen him in the papers. He’s the mayor of Cambridge. Theo’s dad. Edward Porter. I can’t fucking believe he’s got the nerve to turn up here like this.
Before I can do or say anything, Grace straightens her spine and narrows her eyes at him. She looks composed, calm, and very angry. Only the slight trembling of her body against me gives away the fact she’s nervous and unsure of herself.
‘Go away. I’ve got nothing to say to you.’ she says.
‘Why are you doing this, Grace? Why are you trying to ruin Theo’s reputation when you know he’s done nothing wrong?’ Edward spreads his arms wide, palms up, in a gesture that all politicians use when they’re trying to fake honesty.
Grace stiffens beside me, and I pull her tighter, letting her know she’s got my support. I won’t let anything bad happen to her.
‘Don’t even try and make excuses for him! How can you want your son to get away with what he does to women?’ Her voice rises with anger.
‘Get away with what?’ He snorts. ‘All I see are a couple of jealous and immature ex-girlfriends who are just annoyed their meal ticket’s walked out the door.’
‘What?’ Grace yells. ‘What are you talking about?’
Edward tilts his head and gives her a smug smile. ‘In case you haven’t forgotten, I’m the mayor here, so I have a considerable amount of influence and power. It’s not going to take much for us to prove the real picture to the jury. You and Rebecca were angry that Theo ended his relationships with you because you’re a couple of gold diggers. So you fabricate some story about him raping you both to get back at him.’ He shrugs casually, as if he believes his own lies. ‘Who do you think the jury will believe? An up-and-coming lawyer, who also happens to be an esteemed member of society and the son of the mayor, or a couple of money-grabbing attention-seeking whores with dead end jobs?’ He glares, eyes full of hatred. ‘Come on, Grace, just forget about this thing.’
‘“This thing”?’ Grace cries incredulously.
‘You need to leave now.’ My jaw clenches as I fight to keep my voice and my breathing calm, trying to dampen down the raging fire of anger burning a hole in my gut.
‘Yes. Get the hell out of here,’ Grace says through gritted teeth, nostrils flaring.
He doesn’t move.
‘She told you to leave.’ I force the fury back down to a place deep inside where it will never come out.
He turns cold blue eyes on me. ‘Really? And what’s it got to do with you?’
‘It’s got everything to do with me.’ I give him a hard stare.
He ignores me and focuses on Grace. ‘You and Rebecca have ganged up together with some vendetta to spread your vicious pack of lies. Just tell the truth, Grace, that’s all I’m asking for.’
‘Tell the truth?’ Grace shouts. ‘Maybe you should ask your son about telling the truth! He raped me. He raped Rebecca. And you want him to get away with it? You’re no better than him.’ She snarls and storms towards the steps to her flat. ‘Get off my property before I call the police,’ she yells without looking back.
‘Don’t try to see her or speak to her again, or I’ll report you for interfering with a witness.’ I don’t trust myself to say anything more, because what might come out could lead me to do something else. I leave him standing there and take the steps two at a time, adrenaline pumping through me so hard I can taste it in the back of my throat.
When I get inside, shivers wrack Grace’s whole body. Tears roll down her face. Her expression is both fierce and tragic.
‘I can’t do this.’ She clutches her arms around herself. ‘I thought I could, but I can’t. You heard what he said. They’ll try to turn it around so it looks like we’re the ones lying. They’ll make up a lot of rubbish about us. Everything’s stacked in his favour.’
‘Everything except the truth.’ I reach for her, but she steps back so I can’t touch her.
‘It’s bad enough seeing his dad, but what’s it going to be like in court seeing Theo there?’ She clenches her fists and paces up and down. ‘Edward doesn’t believe us, and even Claire didn’t. How can we convince a jury we’re telling the truth?’
I stuff my hands in my pockets to stop me reaching for her again. ‘No one’s going to tell you that you have to go through with this. It’s your choice. You don’t—’
‘Yeah. Not much of a choice, is it?’ She cuts me off, her eyes blazing. ‘If I drop the charges, he’ll get away with it and be free to do it again, and I’ll definitely look like I’m lying. And if I go through with it, I’ll be attacked in the witness box. How is that fair?’
I ignore her anger, trying to get through to her. ‘You have to do what’s right for you, but if you do want to do it, I know you can. I know you’ll get through this the way you’ve got through everything in your life, with the courage of a lioness. Even when you were broken and destroyed, deep down you still didn’t give up that spark to fight back. I think you can do anything you want to, Grace. And you already are.’
‘It doesn’t feel like it.’
‘You’re not the same person you were. Don’t let him win with—’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ben, what would you know? You think you have all the right answers. You think you know what’s going through everyone’s minds. You’re so bloody perfect, aren’t you?’ Her eyes flash with fury and pain, devoid of all the warmth I usually see there.
It goes through my mind to tell her the truth. Then she’d know just how far from perfect I really am. I tell myself not to say anything, because I want to get her through this trial. I want to be there for her so she can lay all her ghosts to rest, once and for all. And yes, that’s true. But the hypocrite in me knows there’s another reason I don’t say anything, and it’s purely selfish. If she knows the real me, she’ll never love me. How could she when the truth is black, dangerous, and ugly? She’ll run like hell and never look back, and I’m so terrified of losing her I can’t tell her.
‘I wish I was perfect, Grace,’ I say, running a hand over my hair.
‘Just leave me alone.’ She turns her back on me. ‘I need some time to think.’
I can’t push her. Don’t want her to get further out of reach than she already is. I know she’s hanging onto her fear and insecurities to try to protect herself. I walk out of her flat to give her space and just hope she forgives me.
For everything.
Chapter Fifty-One
Grace
I pace up and down the lounge, full of pent up aggression. My shoulders are tight, as if the muscles are about to snap and unravel at any moment. I can’t
believe Edward showed up here like that. But then, should I have expected any less? They can’t see Theo’s an arrogant, spoilt, selfish narcissist, who’s very clever at charming the world. And they don’t believe Rebecca or me, so who else will? When it comes down to a choice of the mayor’s son or a girl who works in a coffee shop, who will they believe? Is this trial all going to be for nothing? Will he get away with it?
I sink onto the sofa and chew my thumbnail. I feel like giving up. I should’ve known all along that I couldn’t do this. Who have I been kidding?
I’m angry with Ben, too. He let me believe I could get over this. I needed to prove to myself I could complete the final piece in my journey and put closure on what Theo did by seeing him where he belongs, in prison. Theo killed part of me when he raped me, and this was my chance to kill him back.
And now?
Now, I just don’t know if I can.
Seeing Edward brought it all back. I thought I’d been doing so well and now everything is just…hopeless.
I grab my journal and record every thought, every despair, every futile wish, every fear hurtling through me at this moment. Every possible emotion battling to get out. And when it’s all spilled out onto the pages, I hurl it across the room, watching the pages of my life flutter before me as it falls to the floor and lands open on the very first page I wrote.
I stare at the journal, and it’s as if those first words are taunting me to read them. I chew on the skin around my thumbnail until it bleeds, willing the tears scorching behind my eyelids not to fall.
I will not cry. I will not cry. Not for him. Not anymore.
I stride across the room, snatch up the journal, and go back to what I wrote all those months ago when Ben gave it to me.
It takes six hours to read everything, and by the end, I’m amazed at myself. At what I was like in the beginning. How I sat in front of the door night after night with a knife in my hand, scared shitless, waiting for Theo to come and get me. How I uncontrollably checked all the locks. How I was an empty shell, going through the motions of existing but never living. The panic attacks, the self-blame, guilt, hopelessness.
At that moment, I know Ben’s right. I’m not the same woman I was back then. I’ve come so far. I’m not that dead girl walking, and I can do anything, because I’ve lived through it and I’ve survived. I’m not a helpless victim anymore, and I’m bloody well sure I’m not going to act like one. Not for Theo, his dad, or anyone else.
It strikes me then that maybe Edward does believe me after all. Maybe he’s desperately clutching at straws, trying to intimidate me into dropping the charges because he knows Rebecca and I are telling the truth.
But his words have had the reverse effect. I’m ablaze with anger at the injustice of it all, and I’m even more determined now not to give in and give up. I’m not going to give them what they want to make this disappear. I’m not going to roll over and play dead anymore, and I’m not going to let them win. The story is mine to tell, and I’m ready to tell it. I refuse to stay silent any longer, because it’s not my shame.
I get into bed and touch the side of the sheets where Ben usually sleeps. It’s cold and empty without him. God, I’ve been a total bitch to him tonight when all he’s ever done is be there for me with endless patience, kindness, and support. I need to apologize, but it’s too late to text him tonight, and I can’t say what I want over the phone.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’m going to tell Ben for the first time just how much I love him.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Ben
My flat is unlived in and unloved. It smells of damp and stale air. I haven’t spent the night here in ages. Every night I’ve had Grace wrapped in my arms, talking, laughing, caressing her, keeping her safe.
The counsellor in me knows this is just another part of the healing process. The trial’s dragging up old memories she wants to forget, and I thought it would happen. It’s good she’s angry about it. It shows how far she’s come, even if she can’t see it herself. But the guy who’s in love with her just wants to be there for her. Hold her through the night. Kiss away her tears. I feel helpless, and it brings back memories of Mia.
I’m angry, too. I can’t believe Edward Porter had the fucking nerve to try to intimidate her.
I strip off and take my anger out on the punch bag. When I’m exhausted, I shower and lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling and worrying about how she’s doing. When I can’t take it anymore, I reach into my bedside drawer and pull out the small velvet jewellery box. I open it and stare at what’s inside. I was waiting to give this to her after the trial. I thought it would be symbolic of the ending of her past. But maybe she needs to see this now so she’ll believe in herself again.
Tomorrow. I’ll give it to her tomorrow.
I switch off the lights and close my eyes, but I don’t sleep. I toss and turn, my whole body aching for her.
At one-thirty a.m., my phone on the bedside table rings. I’m in such a rush to check if it’s her, I launch myself towards it and knock it to the floor. Jumping out of bed, I grab the phone.
It is her.
‘Grace, are you OK?’ My heart thuds erratically.
‘I’m so sorry about last night, Ben. I didn’t mean what I said. I was going to wait until later this morning to phone, but I couldn’t wait any more. I…I need you.’
A smile so wide my mouth aches quickly replaces my worried frown. ‘I’ll be there in an hour.’
I actually make it in forty-five minutes, since I run all the way to her place. And then I’m banging on her door.
‘I’m sorry.’ She pulls me towards her before I’m even though the door.
‘You don’t have to apologize.’
‘You’re always saying that.’
‘But it’s true.’
‘I was horrible to you.’
‘I’ve got big shoulders. I can take it.’ I shrug it off. ‘The trial’s a big deal. It’s bound to stir up memories of everything that’s happened and make you feel like you’re going backwards.’
She looks at me, reaching her hand up and running it through my messy layers. I love it when she does that. In fact, I love everything about her.
‘Well, I’m still sorry.’
‘That was our first row,’ I say, thinking how many firsts I’ve had with her so far.
She looks up at me coyly and smiles. ‘Yes, but you know what this means, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘That we can get to have make-up sex.’ Her voice is husky as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and gives me a sultry smile.
My heart skips a beat. The look in her eyes tells me she’s ready. More than ready. She wants me inside her as much as I want it. I arch an eyebrow, feeling myself going hard just at the thought. ‘Make-up sex?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nods.
‘Grace, you don’t have to do this.’
‘I know I don’t have to. I want to,’ she whispers, her voice husky. ‘I’m not letting Theo steal any more from me.’
‘You’re just using me for my body, aren’t you?’ I give her a mischievous smile.
She gasps, a hand flying to her chest as she fakes shock. ‘As if I would! Although, I have to say, it is an amazing body.’
I grin and reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box that’s burning a hole there. Whatever happens next with us, I want her to have this now. I want her to know just how far she’s come. ‘I bought you something.’
She looks down at it in the palm of my hand, and for once, I can’t read her face. Her wide eyes go from the box to me and back to the box again.
I don’t want to ruin the moment or scare her, pressure her into thinking this is something else, so I say, ‘Don’t worry, it’s not a ring.’
Her face relaxes slightly, and a tug of disappointment twists my insides. One day. One day I want it to be a ring.
‘Open it.’ I hold it out to her.
She takes the box and tentatively flips op
en the lid, staring at what’s inside. It’s a silver necklace with a silver butterfly. The butterfly’s mesh wings look delicate and see-through. In the light, small amethyst and topaz crystals glint along the spine.
Her mouth softens, her eyes water, and her cheeks lift.
‘Do you like it?’ I ask.
‘Oh, my God, I love it.’ She picks it out of the box and places it in her hand, tracing a finger along it.
‘The butterfly is a powerful symbol of metamorphosis. The way we can move through different cycles in our lives and find happiness again. They have the ability to undergo a massive transition from egg, to caterpillar, to cocoon, eventually emerging into a beautiful, bright free spirit. Do you want me to put it on for you?’
‘Yes.’ She lifts up her hair and turns her back to me so I can fasten it around her neck.
‘Their stages of life mimic our own phases—growth, hard times, vulnerability, and then moments of miraculous transformation where we’re unrecognizable at the end of our journey. They signify renewal, regeneration, and rebirth.’
She touches it again as she turns around to face me.
‘One of their other symbolic meanings is grace,’ I say. ‘I thought it was perfect for you. I thought it might make you see how far you’ve come.’
She blinks, unshed tears glistening. ‘I don’t know what to say. It’s the best present I’ve ever had.’ She reaches up and gives me an excruciatingly slow kiss that makes my insides turn molten.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Grace
I pull back from his lips, unable to wait any longer. ‘I want you, and I’m sick of being scared of what I want. I need you to take away what Theo did to me.’
He picks me up, my legs wrapping around his hips as he carries me to the bedroom with his mouth possessing mine. He places me on the bed, on my back, my legs still wrapped round him, his knees either side of my hips. His eyes are wide open and staring at me with such loving intensity I want to cry.
