Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  I blinked. Wanting to negate it. To tell him we could overcome it.

  “Ollie?” I begged quietly.

  Praying he’d refute it.

  Say what he’d implied wasn’t true.

  But his expression shifted.

  Hardened.

  The walls coming up.

  They swore there was no way for us to overcome this.

  My nod was slow surrender as I pushed back to standing.

  “I have to go.”

  I turned and fumbled for the door.

  Barely able to stand.

  A new kind of grief cut through me.

  Overpowering.

  Overbearing.

  Too much.

  How was I supposed to stand under it all?

  “Nik,” he suddenly begged. His voice gruff. “Don’t just take off.”

  It only propelled me faster.

  I needed to get away.

  Run from this grief.

  I clamored back out into the hall.

  I could feel his presence from behind, a shockwave that banged against the walls.

  “Nikki.”

  His voice sounded like heartbreak.

  Like an apology.

  Like a goodbye.

  I paused to look back at him, barely able to force out the words. “I will always love you, Ollie, but I can’t be with you when you don’t know how to love me back.”

  I’d known to guard my heart.

  I’d known. I’d known all along.

  Oliver Preston was armor and stone.

  Bitterness and venom.

  Broken fragments.

  Shrapnel waiting to bust.

  He was the bullet that pierced right through the center of me.

  Barely able to see, I ran back down the hall and hit the door that led to the steps. Holding onto the railing, I bounded downstairs.

  Sniffling, trying to hold back the sob that bottled in my throat.

  At the bottom, I blew out the backdoor and the sob broke free.

  It echoed on the night.

  Resounding.

  A boomerang.

  It bounced back, slamming into me, adding to the turmoil that sieged every cell in my body.

  Hands shaking, I fumbled into my purse and pulled out my phone, barely able to make the call.

  Sammie answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

  I could hardly speak. “No. I’m not okay.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the back of Olive’s,” I begged through another cry.

  “Stay right there. I’ll be there to get you in five minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  I ended the call and hugged my arms across my chest, tears streaking free.

  There was no way to stop them.

  Solid ground had finally been ripped from beneath our feet.

  My heart shattered, pieces scattered.

  Verification that we’d lost Sydney in this horrible, horrible way crumbled the last of our foundation.

  I guessed it’d been flimsy and unstable, anyway.

  But now it was Ollie who was lost beneath the rubble.

  Unable to see his way out of it.

  Unable to see past what he thought was a failure.

  And he’d broken my heart all over again while mine broke for him.

  I wanted to hold him and make promises I couldn’t keep.

  That one day it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

  But I knew that would only be a lie.

  Headlights cut into the back-alley road, and Sammie’s car came to a stop in front of me.

  The front passenger door flew open, and Sammie jumped out, her husband Lyle in the driver’s seat.

  I collapsed in her arms and wept.

  “I’ve got you, Nikki. It’s going to be okay.”

  I nodded against her, even though I couldn’t bring myself to believe it was true.

  Finally, I pried myself away and climbed into the backseat with Penelope, took the little girl’s hand, clinging to the comfort she brought.

  Looking at her had always made me feel as if the world could be a better place.

  I just wished I could still believe that as the truth.

  They swung by where I’d left my car outside the building, and Lyle took my keys and said he’d meet us back at the house, doing what he could to lighten some of the load.

  As if I’d give my car a second thought.

  But he’d always been a doer, and I understood the feeling of being helpless, desperate to find something to do.

  Sammie moved into the driver’s seat.

  I stayed stagnant in the backseat, silent tears running down my face.

  They didn’t stop or slow when we went inside.

  Choked sobs erupted at unexpected times, as if the sorrow would bottle and pressurize and then burst to do it all over again.

  Sammie made me a spot on the couch to sleep, and I hugged the blankets around my body as it if might offer comfort.

  “Do you want me to sit with you?” Sammie finally asked, fidgeting, her house quiet in the dark hours of the night.

  “No, you go on to bed and get some rest. There’s nothing you can do.”

  I needed to be alone.

  To process.

  To grieve.

  She wavered as if she was going to stay anyway. “I want to be here for you, too,” she whispered, as if she were trying to cross a bridge.

  My eyes blinked open to her.

  Bleary and blurry.

  Burning from the tears.

  Something passed through her expression.

  “I know that. Thank you.”

  She nodded quickly and then ducked her head down the hall, shutting off the last light and casting the entire house in a dreary darkness.

  I didn’t toss.

  I just laid there.

  Frozen in the silence.

  Tied by sorrow.

  Cutting, blinding grief.

  I’d felt as if I’d lost both of them all over again.

  As if I was taken back to the day when my world went dim.

  Because Ollie . . .

  He’d always been my great big world.

  Finally, I drifted on it, exhaustion taking hold of my consciousness. Horrible dreams just raced in to take its place.

  My eyes popped open, a fresh sob on my breath, night still all around me. Disoriented, I blinked through it. I jerked my head when I felt the presence at my side.

  “Sammie,” I gasped, my eyes going wide when I found my sister sitting on the floor next to me, her knees tucked to her chest as she rocked.

  Even in the darkness, I could see the shimmer of tears that stained her cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered fiercely, shooting up to sitting, the worry for her chasing away the weight that wanted to pin me down. “What happened?”

  Shivers of pain radiated from her.

  “I went to that meetin’ last night, thinking I was going to be able to talk to you.”

  Oh God.

  My heart raced.

  Banged at my ribs.

  “And I’m so sorry this is comin’ now . . . when you’re going through so much. I just don’t think I can keep it inside anymore. Everything feels wrong.”

  I knew this was her way of opening a door.

  Breaching a divide.

  Inviting me inside.

  I wanted to be there. For her.

  Even though I was terrified I might not be strong enough to handle anything else. If my emotions might get the better of me.

  “I’m always here for you, Sammie. No matter what is happening in my life, I will always be here for you.”

  “I know that,” she mumbled, hugging her knees tighter, her attention darting all over the living room as if she was searching for ghosts among the shadows.

  Finally, she turned her tortured gaze back on me, the words forced from her mouth. “He’s back.”

  Confused, I sat forward more as I tried to decipher what she was trying to say. “W
ho?”

  She swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “Uncle Todd.”

  “What?”

  The name rocked me back.

  Shocked.

  Stunned.

  Horrified by the look on Sammie’s face.

  Sickness turned in my guts, and I was sure I was gonna throw up.

  She blinked a bunch of times, as if she were seeing things she didn’t want to see. “I . . . I thought I was okay, Nikki. For all these years, I’d convinced myself it was okay because he was gone. All my prayers had been answered because he’d just . . . moved. Was gone. So, I shoved it down and pretended like it didn’t exist, and then he came back to help Grandma and . . . and . . . it was all right back there again.”

  Dread.

  It chained and bound.

  Everything felt too heavy.

  Crushing.

  I tried to breathe around it. To convince my heart it was okay to still beat.

  I needed to be strong for my sister.

  She needed me. She needed me, and I needed to be there for her.

  “What exactly are you sayin’?” I tried to keep the question soft. Frame it like I would to anyone who came to me for help.

  But it felt impossible when my baby sister was the one sitting there looking at me.

  “Didn’t you think Uncle Todd was a creep?” she almost begged.

  Leading me. Trying to get me to a point without her having to say it.

  I swallowed hard, my mind reeling through a million memories.

  Had I missed it?

  Because it hit me.

  The way he’d been too attentive.

  Too interested in what we were doing.

  Always asking me questions.

  Where I was going and who I was with.

  But at the time, it’d barely blipped on my radar.

  “He was . . . odd.”

  More tears streaked from her eyes, soaking her face. “He wasn’t odd, Nikki. He was a monster.”

  Horror locked up my throat, and my hands went to my chest as if it might shield me from her words.

  “He was a creep and a monster, Nikki. Of the worst kind. A vile, disgusting creep who stole my childhood. My innocence. He made me believe I could never trust a man until Lyle came into my life. And . . . and . . . and I just have this sick feeling . . .”

  Her grief spun through the room. Hanging on the dense air. Clinging to the walls.

  I swore I could feel it crawling across the floor and climbing into me.

  My spirit shook, so heavy I could feel the weight of it sagging in the middle of me.

  Regret and confusion and anger.

  Who knew hate could be such an instant thing?

  But I did.

  I hated him.

  Hated that he could hurt my sister.

  “Sammie.” Tears flooded down my face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

  She swiped at the wetness on her face and released a brittle, frustrated sound. “How could you know when I kept it a secret? It was my darkest secret, Nikki, because I couldn’t stand the thought of someone knowing. Of someone knowing what he’d done to me.”

  My eyes squeezed, and I forced out the words, praying she hadn’t gone through this alone her whole life. “But Lyle knows?”

  She barely nodded. “He knows what happened to me. He doesn’t know who. He thinks it was a stranger. I didn’t know how to tell him if I didn’t want my family to know. God knows what he’d do.”

  Oh, that made two of us.

  Fury bristled through my being, and I thought maybe I could relate to the things Ollie had said. To the way he’d wanted to hunt down whoever had hurt his sister.

  The overwhelming need to make something right when you had absolutely no control over it.

  But at least in this circumstance, we could still do something.

  Sammie suddenly gasped for a breath. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t want to burden you with this when you were dealing with so much, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Not with him out there. Not with my baby girl in her room . . . not with other little girls out there. Not after all these years of hiding it. I . . . I—”

  A shadow of grief clouded her face. “What if he’s hurt someone else? What if I never told anyone, and he did it to someone else? I’m responsible for that.”

  Dropping onto my knees on the carpeted floor, I inched her direction, took her by both of the wrists, and lifted her arms in between us.

  They’d been hanging so helplessly at her sides.

  I needed her to know she wasn’t weak. That she had strength.

  “No. You can’t blame yourself. You were just a little girl.”

  Conflict pinched her face. “It was still happening when I was fifteen.” Her voice clogged with a ragged cry.

  “Fifteen, Nikki,” she begged, as if it changed things, and she was all of a sudden somehow responsible.

  But that’s what predators did. They made their victims believe they were somehow to blame. That they should be the ones ashamed, manipulating and filling them with fear.

  A panicked disgust clotted in my chest, and I was sure my heart was no longer working. “It’s not your fault. It’s his. But . . .”

  My voice shifted to a quiet plea, praying my sister would find comfort in me. That she would understand she no longer had to be afraid. “We have to report this to the police, Sammie. We can’t let him get away with this.”

  “I know.” The words cracked, and a cry ripped from her throat.

  It was born of desperation. Of grief and sorrow and shame.

  She began to ramble, “I just . . . you have to give me a little time. I’ve been trying so hard. So hard to get to the point where I could tell you, and I trust you more than anyone.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled for a breath. “They’re gonna ask for details, Nikki. I know they are, and I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

  I squeezed her hand. “How long was it going on?”

  She dropped her attention to the floor, shuttering, her chest heaving with her breaths. “He always . . . made me uncomfortable. The way he used to look at me. The way he’d brush against me. I was twelve the first time he took me to one of those abandoned buildings by the river.”

  Shock blew me back, and the air sucked into my vacant lungs.

  A cloying type of awareness shook through me.

  “What did you say?”

  She blinked. “The buildings. Down on Row.”

  Tremors rocked through me.

  Full body.

  Jolting.

  “Oh, God. Oh God.”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  No.

  No.

  It couldn’t be. I was making assumptions, anxiety and fear getting out ahead of me.

  Dizziness swooped down, making my mind tilt and the room cant.

  I tried to get to my feet, but the weakness that had taken hold of my knees nearly dropped me back to the ground. My hand darted out to the couch as I forced myself to stand.

  Nausea churned, twisting my stomach in painful knots. I tried to swallow around the bile I could feel crawling up my throat.

  “Oh God,” I whispered again, looking around as if I were searching for an answer when there wasn’t one there.

  Sammie pushed to standing, her hand on my arm, worry moving all over her face. “What if it was him?”

  My eyes shifted to her.

  I knew they poured with sorrow. With speculation.

  The same as hers.

  It hit me like a freight train.

  What she’d been implying all along.

  Why she felt compelled to tell me now.

  I stumbled back, hand scrubbing over my face in hopes that it might break up the confusion. “I need to go. I need to think.”

  I stumbled back into the kitchen and grappled for my purse, which I’d left on the little breakfast nook table last night.

  I jerked open the door.

  A tease of daylight danced on t
he horizon, cool morning air splashing my face.

  It didn’t matter.

  I felt sticky.

  Clammy.

  I stumbled down the two steps, unable to move any farther when I lurched forward and puked in the shrubs.

  My spirit revolting.

  Purging the instinct that had kicked up at the back of my mind.

  Sammie was behind me. “Nikki, what are you going to do?”

  “I just . . . I need to think. Figure this out.”

  I didn’t even want to contemplate it. Didn’t want it to be true.

  “He was a monster.”

  Sammie’s confession whipped through my spirit.

  “Where are you going?” she begged, clinging to the railing on the steps.

  “I don’t know. I just . . . I need to go.”

  I had to make sense of this before I made accusations I couldn’t take back. Even though my gut screamed they were real.

  “Please, don’t do something stupid.”

  I ran to her and pulled her into my arms, squeezing her so tight I could feel her heart battering against mine. “I’m so sorry, my sweet sister.”

  Then I turned and rushed away.

  34

  Ollie

  Footsteps pounded on the damp earth.

  Desperate.

  Frantic.

  Trees rose on all sides, sentries and witnesses, and branches tore into my skin as I ran through the oppressive night.

  Searching.

  My eyes blurred in the darkness. Muddied by despair. I stumbled through the forest. Gnarled roots twisted, like spindly fingers that had clawed out of hell to hold me back.

  Tears burned my cheeks as the wind blasted my face.

  Cruel like the laughter I swore I heard before it was swallowed by a gust of air.

  I screamed in the middle of it. “Sydney!”

  Voice hoarse, throat bleeding with the pain. “Sydney!”

  Sydney. Sydney. Sydney.

  I dropped to my knees.

  Sydney.

  I roared, trying to break free of the sheets that were twisted around me like ropes and chains. Sweat slicked my skin, and my heart was busting right through the confines of my ribs.

  Panted cries clawed at my raw throat.

  Panic and desperation.

  I kicked off the sheets and sat up on the edge of my bed.

  I blinked through the dusky shadows that leapt through my room, trying to ignore what had pulled me from sleep.

  Banging.

  A constant pound, pound, pound at my front door.