“What was your reason for that doctor’s visit, Ms. Porter?” Derek faced the jury, going in for the kill, officially becoming selfish fuck-face the second.
“Isn’t that personal?” I wanted to smack him across the face. My nails dug harder into my white-knuckled fists.
“Not if it’s relevant to your credibility, Ms. Porter, I’m sorry. Please answer the question.” The judge looked almost apologetic when he addressed me.
“I … I was pregnant.” You could have heard a pin drop. I took a punch to the gut. Direct hit. Any control I had on breathing was deserted. Ragged and labored, my mouth was as dry as cotton. I had no choice. I turned to where Chase was sitting. I needed to see him.
Bent over with his elbows on his knees and his fists clenched over his mouth, all I saw were his eyes. The fury was frightening. Intensity on fire. His eyes rhythmically jerked between selfish fuck-face number two and me. His arms and legs looked so tight, like he might explode out of the small chair at any moment. How had I let this happen? I could usually read his crystal gaze like a novel, but in that moment, I was left searching. Was he angry with me, livid that I never told him? His earlier question haunted me. Something I need to worry about, Blue? Shit, I should have just told him, why, why didn’t I?
“So let me get this right, the day you discovered you were pregnant, you decided to bring forth charges and accuse your ex of rape. Did you make any other monumental decisions that day?”
I was not going to be his victim. Derek knew everything. The truth. And his intentions were crystal clear. These questions were far from over. I inhaled deeply and directly faced his cold stare, but the coward’s eyes quickly darted away. “Yes. I called Boston University and deferred my acceptance to the master’s program.”
“Deferred? But you never did actually attend the program. Is that correct?”
“Yes. You’re correct. I was able to defer, but I wound up losing my scholarship. So no, I never attended.”
“Fine. Let’s continue.” Blood started to drip from my right palm, so I wiped the evidence of my fury on my new designer dark linen dress. A freeze-frame of our perfect NYC weekend flashed in my mind, adding fuel to my fire. The ugliness of my past still had the power to stain. “Ms. Porter, did you drop said rape charges two weeks later?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Porter, I hate to ask a personal question again, but were you treated at Wrangel Community Medical center the day prior to dropping all charges?” His smugness was infuriating.
Please, Please. This needed to end. From across the room, I felt Chase’s heat, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him again. What was he thinking? Why hadn’t I just told him everything? I physically felt the rage that clouded his beautiful eyes moments ago running through my body. My knees shook involuntarily. It took every ounce of strength to keep the tears pooling beneath my contacts from falling. I would not give that son of a bitch lawyer the satisfaction.
“Yes.” The dam broke. Years of denial were over. “And I’m sure you want to know why. So let me save us all some time.” Screw hiding my anger.
The judge turned back to me. “Ms. Porter, please keep your answers to yes or no responses.”
“Objection, Judge, this line of questioning has gone on long enough. I do believe Attorney Reed has established a sufficient timeline.”
The drumming pulse in my ears grew louder. I ignored her objection. “No, it’s fine.” Screw yes and no responses. This was not ending on his terms. “I went to the hospital that morning because I was hemorrhaging. I had a miscarriage, to be exact. I lost so much blood I needed emergency surgery and two blood transfusions. I was discharged later that night. And yes, I did call the district attorney’s office the next morning and drop the charges. Is that a detailed enough timeline for you?” You self-righteous son of a bitch.
My body trembled head to toe, but I tightened muscles I never knew I had to hide it. The sounds coming from the audience were pure shock. I couldn’t look up; I couldn’t look at him, not yet. I was afraid to see disappointment. That was worse than anger, fury and rage, combined. Disappointment meant you failed someone. My chest pounded, creating an ache so deep and raw. It wasn’t fair how easily pieces of your private life were stolen, used against you and left to be scrutinized. The heat from my boiling blood settled in my cheeks, maybe from embarrassment, but mostly from pure exasperation.
“So to summarize our timeline, Ms. Porter, your boyfriend publicly broke up with you, two weeks later you found out you were pregnant, filed charges of alleged rape and deferred your plans of higher education, losing the scholarship you obviously needed.” His lips hardened while he watched and waited for the jury’s reaction. “Two weeks later you suffered a traumatic miscarriage, then proceeded to drop all charges the very next day.” That spineless fucker looked at everyone in the courtroom but me. “And during all this personal drama, you were able to remain diligently focused at work. So much so, you filed formal grievances against my client as an unfit father.” The asshole actually smiled, he fucking smiled. “No further questions, Your Honor. The witness is excused.”
The witness is excused. Just like that. It was over. Derek Reed may as well have said the defendant is excused. And not Roy Wayne, either. So this was a taste of why I turned my life upside down three years ago. Then, at least, I would have been prepared. But today, I was defenseless. Selfish fuck-face was not even in a sixty-mile radius, and he managed to bitch slap me one last time.
Taking a deep breath I composed myself as best I could, straightened my now blood stained dress and walked straight out. Eyes forward and chin up. All my resolve crumbled the second the warm August air hit my face. Tears just flowed. I tried wiping them away, but it was useless. I cried until the well ran dry.
I couldn’t tell you how long I sat on the bench across from the courthouse. Could have been five minutes, could have been an hour. The entire sick replay looped in my mind, always freezing on the same frame. The unreadable look on Chase’s face. I pressed my forehead against my palm and tried to massage the dull throb beneath my temples. With my eyes closed I sensed the tall shadow, then felt his presence sit down beside me. His arm brushed my side. The tension and anger radiating from his body was tangible. He removed my hand from my forehead and laced his fingers with mine. His strong bounding pulse clearly indicated the level of his agitation. I attempted swallowing, knowing I had to say something. To explain. But all I wanted was to feel his arms around me and for him to tell me everything was going to be okay. I didn’t move a muscle. I sat so still just waiting.
“What just happened in there, Blue?”
I twisted my head and opened my bloodshot eyes. Chase was staring forward in almost the same position as in the courtroom, forearms resting on his knees, fists clenched against his mouth, but this time my hand was sandwiched between his palms. In a death grip. He was mad.
“I can explain,” I pleaded, hoping he would turn and allow his eyes to connect. I needed to see them desperately. I needed to erase the last image burned in my brain of his eyes.
“What the fuck just happened in there?” His voice rattled with anger. It was obvious he was fighting for any shred of control. “You can explain? How about you start with, who the fuck is that guy? And don’t tell me you don’t know him because he sure as shit knows you.”
“We grew up together ... he’s ... Dan’s cousin.”
“Well, that’s fucking fantastic. He had no problem throwing you under the fucking bus in there!”
No shit. Seemed to be a Reed family trait. I focused on Chase’s sharp profile, while he continued looking straight ahead.
“This trial’s about a scumbag child abuser who deserves to be put behind bars for life. How the fuck did it become about you?” He released my hand and shot off the bench.
At the loss of contact, I pinched beneath my running nose and palmed away the tear tracks staining my cheeks. “They always try to discredit the witness. It’s part of the whole stupid proce
ss.”
“What?” Chase growled and finally turned to look at me. His crystal greys were dark. A darkness I had never seen. Like a black cloud on an otherwise clear day when you wondered what it would bring. “You want to question someone’s professional credibility, you show they suck at their job or, fuck ... show they’re an alcoholic or a fucking crackhead, for that matter. But what he just did to you in there ... fuck, Blue. He just went for your jugular in front of half your fucking hometown. And no one did a goddamn thing to stop it.” Chase clawed at his hair with such force, I was surprised he didn’t leave a bald spot. “You came all the way here to help her case, and that fucking prosecutor stood there and did absolutely nothing.” His breathing was hard and his neck was so taut, I thought he might pop a vessel.
“There was nothing she could do,” I said, willing to calm him with my eyes. “It wasn’t going to stop him.”
Chase stared at me like I’d lost my freaking mind. I assumed he had a different experience with the system … not a system that failed innocent victims time and time again. Being blindsided by Derek today knocked me off kilter, but the law giving him carte blanche to do it, that didn’t surprise me at all.
“That makes it okay?” His expression oozed disgust. “When my lawyers are done with that sick bastard, I’m going to have his head on a fucking platter.” Chase was losing it, his fists were tightly clenched and drawn slightly forward. His face was hard-lined. I imagined this was how he looked at his boxing opponent. All of a sudden, throwing instrument trays seemed like a toddler’s temper tantrum.
I stood up and reached for the arm that was raking the shit out of his messy brown locks. “Chase, please listen to me.” My voice cracked when I intended to sound steady and strong. “It’s not going to change anything. Trust me. He didn’t break any laws. Going after him ... is pointless, it can’t erase what’s done.”
My words cut deep, reopening old wounds, wounds that Chase had unknowingly begun to heal. I watched him continue to pace the concrete sidewalk, stewing over what I just said. I sensed that I just delivered the final blow.
He backhanded the air and I rushed forward, trying to soothe, resting my palms against his back. “I don’t give a shit what laws he did or didn’t break. Jesus. Fucking. Christ, Blue.” His muscles vibrated beneath my fingers. “He attempted to humiliate you in front of half the goddamn town.” He slowly turned around and my breath seized at the intensity of his gaze. I stepped in closer and grabbed his face between my hands. His voice dropped to a strained growl, “There is no way in hell that piece of shit is getting away with this.”
I swallowed the pride I spent three years rebuilding and whispered, “It doesn’t matter. They ... they ... all already knew.” I lowered my swollen lids and let my tears fall. The well was far from dry.
Chase’s pointer finger elevated my wet chin, until our eyes linked. Finally, I saw something familiar, the darkness faded. I saw realization wash through him. “That’s why you were so uneasy about this trip ... why you’ve been walking on eggshells?” His tone was softer. Less angry. He sounded hurt.
I had paused long enough. He needed to hear the truth from me. “Chase. I’m so sorry. I should have told you ... I wanted to. You didn’t deserve to hear it like this. You came all this way to support me ... you went out of your way to distract me and make coming home easier when you could tell something was off. I should have told you. I knew I could trust you. I foolishly tried to convince myself I could forget everything; that it didn’t have to affect my future. I want to tell you everything. Now. Why...”
“Shh. Shh. Blue.” Chase’s index finger covered my lips. “I told you before, you don’t have to say another word about him ... ever, and I meant it.” He gently wiped away a few lingering tears.
“Wait. Chase. Please hear me out.”
“Stop, not another word. It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there, you said it yourself, we can’t change anything.” He pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed the top of my head. His cocoon felt like cold gel on a sunburn. As soothed as I was by his touch, something was off. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
I wiped my face for the bazillionth time. “But our flight’s not until later, and I don’t think we can change it.”
“Yes, I can. Watch me.”
Three hours later we were on a plane heading home. I was physically and emotionally exhausted, yet sleep was impossible. A tornado of emotions swirled through my brain, as I relived every moment, over and over again. My head found a resting spot against Chase’s shoulder, while his fingertips ran up and down my arm, my cheek, and my hair. His touch was consoling but not enough to erase the day’s events. Not enough to erase my frustrations. We barely spoke. Chase seemed comfortable in our silence, but it killed me. All he heard in court was the twisted, fucked version. Nothing that bastard said in court was a lie, and yet it was so far from the truth. Maybe that was enough for him. Maybe he believed that was my fucked up story and why he wouldn’t let me explain.
“You need to eat something. It’s been hours since breakfast, let me flag down the flight attendant.”
I said nothing. My stomach was in such a tight knot there was no way in hell any food would fit. I shook my head no and surprisingly he let it go.
The rest of the flight and car ride home remained quiet. There was an uneasy feeling between us, a sullenness. Pete slowed the town car to a stop in front of my apartment building.
“I figured you would want to be home.” He shrugged and glanced in my direction. “I promised Asher I’d meet him early tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna head back to my place.”
Confusion wrinkled my face, and tears immediately pricked the back of my eyes. Something really was off. Why hadn’t he mentioned meeting his best friend once over the past two days? I looked away, hoping to hide my impending breakdown. We hadn’t spent a night apart since our first night together, and he picked tonight to leave me. Alone. My emotional wall of iron instinctively started to re-erect. My heart literally ached. I was dirty and deceitful to him. I was no longer his pure sweet.
I faced the window, waiting for Pete to open the door. The sound of the trunk opening and closing interrupted the chilly silence. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest and stroked my upper arms. My chill had nothing to do with the August night air. I needed out of the car. Now.
Chase leaned across the seat and kissed my cheek. His warm breath tickled the nape of my neck, adding to my quivering. “Take a hot shower, crawl into bed and get some sleep.” His voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. Damn him for retreating into his head.
I did my best to lift my lips into a semblance of a smile. Then Pete opened my door and I stepped out. Maybe Chase just needed some space. Some time to process everything. Maybe I did too.
“Goodnight, Lil.”
Lil. Not Blue, not baby. Pete shut the car door and carried my bag up the walkway. I was crumbling and fast. My hands shook so hard, I barely fit the key in the lock.
“Everything okay, Ms. Porter?” Hell no.
“I’m fine, Pete, just a long day. Thanks for your help. I appreciate it,” I whispered, grabbing my luggage before finally closing the door on the third worst day of my life. My trembling body crashed against the hardwood, searching for support. Boneless, I slid into the fetal position and sobbed. And sobbed. I let every emotion I held in all day wrack through me. Anger, humiliation, frustration, heartache, and disappointment—I was ... devastated. Just when I let my guard down and trusted again. I trusted him.
“You idiot!” I screamed, smacking my tight fists against the hardwood floor. I was crying too hard to finish my own sentence, I should have just told him. Not that screaming at myself changed a damn thing. There were no do-overs.
I was schooled on that life lesson one rainy night in my childhood bedroom three years ago. If life handed out do-overs, I would have sucked it up and gone out to celebrate my stepmother’s birthday. Instead, I bailed to sulk at home all alone, too embarrassed over the
scene fuck-face made the night before. That fucker had tried to save face by publicly dumping me, despite the fact that I had already ended things. I also would have answered his fifteenth call in a row that stormy night, instead of hitting ignore. Then I would have realized how plastered he was and called one of his loser friends or his scumbag cousin to track him down and get him home. And I definitely would have remembered to lock the front door instead of reaching the end of the Internet researching all things Boston. I was moving that fall, thanks to the scholarship I’d just earned. But life didn’t hand out do-overs. I couldn’t go back and change those small decisions preventing the wicked nightmare that followed. Just like I couldn’t go back in time and trust in myself enough to tell Chase everything that happened. Knowing all of this didn’t make it hurt any less. This hurt.
I opened my bloodshot eyes and remembered the last time I was in this entryway, pressed against the window and suspended in Chase’s strong arms for the first time. The same dim light was shining through the walls of glass, but that was all that was the same. Tonight the scene was completely different.
A dull chime extracted me from my memories. I unwrapped my arms from around my knees and reached for my bag. I knew several texts waited for me. Sierra, my dad—typical. But the one I wanted was missing.
Asspuck, holy shit!
My parents called in a fuckin panic,
I could kill that fucker.
Please call me asap!!
Whatever the time.
The people sitting in that courtroom couldn’t wait to spread the latest town gossip. I clutched my stomach and silently screamed in frustration.
Are you okay?
Call me and let me know you made it home ok.
Remember, head up and chin high, babydoll.
Love you, Dad.
New tears pooled because I hated what this was going to do to him, left behind to listen to all the same gossip. Again. The gossip that sent me running in the first place.
I’m okay Dad.
Long day, just really tired.
Beautifully Awake Page 21
