Trust Me

by Claire Raye

  Mila offers me a sad smile. “I know and I don’t want you to go either, but I also know you have to.”

  “What…what do you mean?” I ask, confused as to what’s happening right now.

  “This is real, Adam, and serious.”

  I reach out, tracing her left eyebrow and cheekbone with my fingertip. “So are we,” I whisper.

  “I know,” she replies with a small smile. “But you’ve never really dealt with what happened and I don’t think you ever will. I don’t think you will ever truly move on until you make peace with it.”

  I open my mouth to speak, to say that she’s wrong, that I have made peace and moved on. With her. But before I have a chance to, Mila continues, shocking the shit out of me when she says, “I started seeing a therapist.”

  My mouth snaps shut as I blink once in surprise. “What?”

  Mila smiles again, leaning in to brush her lips against mine. “I started seeing a therapist,” she repeats.

  “When?”

  She pulls back. “Last Friday. Ruby gave me her details. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, sorry I kept it from you.”

  I shake my head, because I couldn’t give a shit about the fact she’s seeing a therapist. What scares me is why she needs to, what’s happened in her past that has driven her to need this. “Are you okay?” I stupidly ask, almost immediately regretting my question.

  “No,” Mila responds, letting out a small laugh as though she too sees the stupidity of my question. “Obviously I’m not, that’s why I’m going.”

  “Baby,” I murmur, slipping my arm around her waist and pulling her closer, wanting to protect her, to wrap her in my arms and hold her close where nothing can ever hurt her.

  “It’s not you,” she says quietly, her head resting on my shoulder again. “It’s just…things have, well I…” she trails off, clearly unable to talk about it.

  “This is about the hospital?” I ask, realizing this is the first real conversation we’re having about what I overheard after the accident.

  “Yes and no,” she says, her words barely audible.

  I nod even though I don’t know what to say. Mila lifts her head and watches me, her eyes searching my face as I lie beneath her, suddenly feeling incredibly far away from her because I have absolutely no idea about the pain she buries or the secrets she keeps.

  “I want to tell you,” she whispers, reading my mind. “But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to get it out and that’s why I’m going, that’s why…that’s why I need help.”

  I nod again, as though I get it, when really, I have absolutely no idea at all.

  “She wants to meet you,” Mila continues.

  “Who?” I ask, my voice scratchy and raw.

  “My therapist.”

  “Why?”

  Mila drops her head to my shoulder again, the two of us lying in silence. “Because I want to tell you what happened,” she eventually says.

  I close my eyes, wrapping her in my arms as I hold her tightly, my lips resting on her forehead, even as a million different worse case scenarios run through my brain. “I love you, Mila and I’ll do whatever you need me to do, okay?” I whisper, meaning it.

  “So will I,” she replies, as she presses her lips to my chest.

  The sound of the front door slamming wakes me and when I open my eyes, I see Mila is lying beside me, watching me sleep. “Morning,” I whisper, my words groggy.

  Mila smiles, moving so she’s hovering above me as her lips meet mine. “Good morning,” she whispers against them, before kissing me.

  I expect the kiss to be brief, a light brushing of her lips against mine, but it’s not, Mila kissing me harder, the tip of her tongue, tracing my bottom lip. I actually moan out loud, Mila sliding her tongue inside as she rolls her body closer so it’s lying half on top of me.

  “Mila,” I murmur, my arm slipping around her waist, my fingers moving over the warm skin of her back, avoiding moving any lower even though that’s exactly where I want to go. But after what happened yesterday, after everything she confessed to me last night, I realize this is not something I can just do anymore. And while my brain refuses to connect the dots about what she might not be telling me, unable to go there, I can still respect the fact that something is going on right now.

  But then her hand, which rests on my chest, moves lower, her fingers playing with the waistband of my boxers before slipping beneath them. I suck in a breath, my whole body reacting to her touch even as my brain screams at me to stop this, to let her know that she doesn’t owe me anything and I’m not expecting her to do anything either.

  “Mila, baby,” I say, my hand covering hers, stilling it inside my boxers. “Wait, we…we don’t have to—”

  “I want to,” she says, cutting me off as she smiles against my mouth, slipping her hand even lower.

  I groan the second her fingers wrap around my dick, which is obviously hard and ready and completely unaware of the war going on inside my head. “Wait, hang on,” I say, gently pushing her back. Mila blinks down at me, a look of hurt briefly flashing across her face. “What about last night, about…”

  Mila swallows hard. “I…I just, I needed…”

  I curl my fingers around her neck, looking up at her as I say, “We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

  “I know,” she says, smiling as she leans down to kiss me. “But I want to, and I am,” she adds, kissing me again. “So please let me.”

  She kisses me a third time, deeper, with more force, as though she’s silently trying to convince me that this is what she wants. I don’t know what to do, even though every single part of me wants this with her. But the more she continues to kiss me, her hand still inside my boxers holding me, the more I start to believe she does mean it.

  “I love you,” she whispers, pushing my boxers down my hips now before she rolls her body so it’s completely covering mine.

  “I love you, Mila, so fucking much.”

  She smiles against my mouth, kissing me once before she sits up, straddling my hips. I watch as she slowly peels off her tank, tossing it to the floor without ever looking away from me. Then she leans in, kissing me again as she says, “I’ve missed you, missed us.”

  “Baby, please, are you sure?” I ask again, needing to know she isn’t just doing this because she thinks it’s what I want.

  She pulls back a little, so our faces are only an inch apart as she looks into my eyes. This close I can see the flecks of gold in her brown ones. Can see the truth and sincerity too. “Yes, Adam, I’m sure,” she says, still watching me.

  My fingers slide into her hair, gently urging her closer until our lips are touching. “I love you,” I repeat, needing her to know, to believe me when I tell her this.

  She smiles before closing the distance and silencing anymore words with a kiss that changes everything, the two of us suddenly lost together as our hands and mouths explore each other. It feels like forever since I’ve touched her like this, since I’ve been touched by her, and by the time she’s slipping her undies off and reaching for a condom, I feel like my body is filled with nothing but lust and love and want and need for this woman.

  I watch as she tears open the wrapper, pulling the condom out and rolling it on me, controlling the situation. Her hands are steady though, her face filled with desire.

  “Tell me,” I whisper anyway.

  Mila hovers over me, her eyes locked with mine. “I want this, Adam,” she says. “I want you.” And then she lowers herself down onto me and we both get lost in the reconnection.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mila

  Yesterday felt normal for a split second, like Adam and I don’t have a million issues, like finally being together again would suddenly fix everything, but we know it can’t. Even worse, he’s currently at his apartment with Josh working on booking flights back home to Australia.

  I don’t want him
to go. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I’m terrified. He left Australia because he was running from Rachel’s death and he’s never fully dealt with it. His return could mean he realizes all the things he left behind, that he didn’t just leave his grief there, but also all of his family and friends and a life that he had established. Would he really trade that for a girl he just met six months ago?

  But he needs to go, not just for Rachel but for himself too. This isn’t a time for me to be selfish or demanding. He needs my support, just like I will need his if I ever get up the courage to tell him what happened to me.

  I should go knock on his door and tell him I’m leaving, but again, given where I’m going, I have no idea how to explain it to him. Instead, I send him a text saying I’m going out to run a few errands and I’ll be back before he leaves for work.

  At least I hope I will be.

  I got Madison’s number from Ruby. It took me a while to even ask her, worried she’d question me further on why I needed it, but she didn’t. It feels like it should be pretty obvious at this point, but I’m still skirting around the full truth with Ruby too. My story stays buried deep inside me, the details are as clear as the day they happened, but still never spoken out loud.

  We agreed to meet at a café near campus just to talk. She said the counseling center begins to feel a little too clinical and she’s spent enough time there already. And while I haven’t spent much time there, I already know what she means.

  Luckily Liz’s office isn’t one of those stuffy places that feels more like a doctor’s office than a place to talk out your feelings. But I could see that with the counseling center. It isn’t hospital-like at all, but it is white and sterile in places and it feels like the prying eyes of everyone are on you, watching you and wondering just why you’re there. Everyone might be equally fucked up, but that doesn’t mean anyone is free from curiosity or judgment.

  I walk into the café and see Madison sitting in a small booth in the back. She tosses a hand up, signaling at me and hitting me with a comforting smile.

  “Hey! So good to see you. I figured after our initial meeting at the counseling center you’d have thought I was crazy and run for the hills,” Madison says, breaking the ice with a little bit of humor, which is exactly what I need right now.

  “Well, obviously that was the first thing that crossed my mind,” I reply, sliding in across from her. “But then I realized I’m equally as crazy.”

  She laughs at my joke and I look around, taking in the people near us. None of them have any idea that we’re two girls bound together by our trauma. We look like old friends meeting up for some lunch and to chat.

  “Ruby isn’t going to tell your story. She isn’t going to tell anyone anything. It’s why I still go to the counseling center to vent to her. She’s like the keeper of all the secrets.”

  “I went to see a therapist for the first time last week,” I tell Madison, and she smirks a little.

  “Did you just start sobbing uncontrollably?” she asks, still with that clever little smile on her face.

  “I did.”

  “So did I. It was like the biggest relief to just take that first step. I didn’t even tell my therapist anything that first time. Actually, I didn’t really tell her anything for several weeks. It was just nice to know someone was there to listen,” Madison admits and all I can do is nod in response.

  That’s exactly how it felt the first time walking into Liz’s office. She was someone I could tell my secrets to and even if I didn’t, she at least knew I was struggling and maybe she could help.

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” Madison asks and I’m not entirely sure what she’s talking about. “That we somehow convinced ourselves that what happened was our own fault. That we tried to pretend it didn’t even happen.”

  “It’s funny how the brain works.”

  “Or society,” she adds. “That was one of my biggest obstacles. I worried I wouldn’t be taken seriously. That people would think I was lying, and I didn’t want to do the he said/she said debate.”

  “Did you?”

  Madison sighs, and that look of bubbly happiness fades a little. Her eyes look down at the table and back up at me. I watch her chew at her lip, and I begin to wonder if she eventually succumbed to the pressures of not speaking out. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  “I did, but the guy who raped me came from a wealthy family and eventually I was told to take a settlement offer. It felt like a loss in my opinion, but my lawyer told me it could go on for years and more than likely because he was a rich white kid, I wouldn’t get the satisfaction from his sentencing as I hoped for.”

  “Did you get any satisfaction from the money?” I ask, and then I instantly shake my head. That is far too personal of a question and I never should’ve let the words come out of my mouth.

  “What do you think?”

  “No,” I reply and Madison nods, clicking her tongue a little. “Nothing really changed, and the money made zero difference to me. What I wanted I wasn’t going to get. I wanted him in jail. I wanted him punished for being a horrible human, but like almost every case I studied and every woman I’ve talked to, this is the way it plays out.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Be angry and don’t let it deter you from filing charges against the fucker that did this to you. Just because my case didn’t lead to anything more than a settlement, that doesn’t mean yours won’t,” Madison states, her words firm.

  “But no one even knows. Once I move forward with it, everyone will know and I don’t know—”

  “You don’t know if you can handle it? You can. Think about all the women out there that this has happened to. Be their voice. Give them courage. That’s how I looked at it. Even if nothing ever came of it, they saw someone yell it out loud and maybe it would encourage them to do the same.”

  I hear Madison’s words and they are encouraging, but I also see the face of my parents when I admit to them what happened. They’ll be devastated and I’m certain my mother will break down and cry. I don’t want anyone else crying over this. I don’t want this affecting anyone else’s life. But maybe that’s exactly what needs to happen. Maybe I need all their voices too.

  “You may be the reason it doesn’t happen to someone else,” Madison now says and that really hits home. I don’t want this to happen to anyone ever.

  “That will be the reason I decide to press charges,” I tell her, feeling more confident in my decision. I wanted to major in nursing so I could help people. This is another way I can do that.

  “Even if the outcome is just a settlement to shut you up, you put his name out there. You tarnish him enough to make a difference,” Madison adds. “Or at least that’s what I like to tell myself. There will always be a girl who wants to be with him, but maybe we will have scared off a few.” She winks and we both chuckle a little.

  “Yeah, that would be the hope.”

  “Would you want to join the sexual assault survivors’ group I belong to?” Madison now asks. “You don’t actually have to do anything. You can just sit there and listen. That’s all I did in the beginning, but now I’m working with a few of the girls and guys in the group to lobby for a sexual assault bill to be passed in California.”

  “I think I would like to,” I say, smiling softly at Madison. “Thanks for this. It feels like exactly what I needed.”

  “No problem.”

  I’m feeling a little better, a little more confident in telling people what happened to me. I’m tired of being a shell of my former self and an outside observer to life. I call Liz as I’m walking home and ask to schedule two visits with her this week. I have a standing appointment, but for some reason I feel like once I start talking, I’m not going to be able to stop.

  She puts me on the schedule for later this week in addition to my appointment in two days. It finally feels like I’m getting somewhere, and now that I do, I feel angrier than
I do scared or hurt. I’m sure that will change, but for now I’m going with it.

  I push open the door to the apartment and call out to Charlie. I know I told Adam I would let him know when I got back, but I want to talk to Charlie without anyone else here. She deserves an explanation as much as anyone. She’s my best friend and while she’s never said it out loud, she knows things are different. She thinks it’s because of the abortion when in reality it all comes back to the rape.

  “In my bedroom,” she responds, and I knock on the door before hearing her call out to open it.

  “I thought maybe you were in here with Josh,” I say as I flop down on her bed.

  “No. He and Adam went to see a movie, I think,” she replies casually, and I try to read into it more than I should.

  “You okay with everything that’s going on with you two?”

  “There’s nothing going on with us. It’s simple. He’s here for a short time and we’re having sex whenever we want. There’s no promise of a relationship and you know I’m totally fine with that.”

  “Relationships aren’t so bad,” I tell her, pushing her with my foot as she lies beside me.

  “Says the girl who spent the last year avoiding them,” she jokes back, but she has no idea that it’s about to turn into a more serious conversation. One that doesn’t contain jokes about guys who own pizza places and one-night stands.

  “About that…” I say, trailing off and looking away from her.

  “Oh my god, you’re not moving to Australia with Adam, are you?” she practically screams out and I see the legitimate fear on her face.

  “You know I’d never leave you. Why would you think that?” I lean closer to her, resting my head on her shoulder.

  “I don’t know. You’ve been distant lately and Josh told me Adam needs to go back to…” she stops short, and I know what she’s going to say. She doesn’t think I know about what happened to Adam and why he’s here.

  “He has to go back to take care of some things with his fiancée who passed away. I know. But that’s not what’s going on with me.”