Seeing all that gave me the reassurance I needed to finally give life to the four little words—five tiny syllables—that had been my shackles for so long.

And, finally, I breathed.

Chapter Twenty-Four

RILEY

I sat on the couch, spine straight as Evie’s head lay in my lap, her face turned toward me. I welcomed the cadence of her deep, even breathing, a soothing sound in my cluttered mind. Cluttered with that single sentence she’d uttered as it ran through my head over and over and over again.

My father raped me. My father raped me. My father raped me.

I looked down at her, her eyes fluttering under her lids, her lips parted, and she looked just like the same Evie I’d always known. Resilient and independent and strong. I just had no idea how much each of those descriptors truly fit her. Thinking about what she’d been through, what the past seven years had held for her, had me clenching my teeth, an ache spreading in my chest, filling every inch of my body until it was all I could think about. Until the rage I felt was all I could see.

I wanted someone to pay for this. I wanted redemption. For her, for the childhood she’d lost, for the sleepless nights and terrified days and nightmares that still haunted her. I wanted redemption for her because she’d been denied it. I wanted her asshole scum of a father to pay for what he did to her. And I wanted to be the one who brought the justice right to his fucking door.

I would’ve, too, would’ve left this apartment and done it a hundred times if it weren’t for Evie. I couldn’t leave, not now. Not when she was finally resting in my lap, not after what she’d shared with me.

I didn’t want to leave her alone.

In my mind, though, while she lay sleeping, I let myself fantasize. Let it play out a hundred times in my head … getting on my bike and driving hours until I pulled up at the door to her childhood home, the one I’d only seen once or twice in the two years we’d been together. The one I’d seen and had no idea what had been happening behind it. In my mind, I knocked on that door, stood in front of that fucker, and beat him until he couldn’t see. Until he couldn’t move. Pounded on him until he was the one huddled in the corner, bleeding and crying and begging for me to stop.

And I knew if I didn’t have her head in my lap, if I wasn’t running my fingers through her hair, a tangible reminder that she was here with me, in a place he could never get her, that I would. I’d go there, just like in the scenarios running through my mind, and I’d kill him.

I’d kill him.

I wasn’t sure that urge would ever lessen. That it’d ever go away.

It’d been hours since I’d pulled her into my lap, wiping away her near-constant tears as she’d recounted the hell she’d lived through. As she’d said the words that had filled me with a rage I’d never known. A rage that couldn’t be matched, not even what I’d felt when I’d found out she was dead.

The anger swarming inside me now far surpassed it, because it wasn’t just rage at what she’d gone through or who had done it to her. It also was rage directed at myself.

Through those two years we’d been together, the countless nights she’d stayed at my place just so she wouldn’t have to go home, I’d never once suspected. And all the while, it’d been happening right under my nose. She’d lived it, day in and day out, and I hadn’t done a damn thing. She’d endured hell, and I’d done nothing.

EVIE

I woke in the exact position I’d fallen asleep in, on the couch with my head in Riley’s lap. He was still playing with my hair, his fingers providing the soothing caresses that had eventually lulled me to sleep in the first place. I didn’t know how long I’d slept, but from the soft light coming into the loft, I’d guess I’d managed to crash through most of the day.

And I couldn’t remember a time when I’d had such a deep and peaceful sleep.

Was it because I’d been so exhausted, running on empty for days? Or had it been because I’d finally freed myself? I’d exposed all the secrets I’d kept buried deep, and I could finally exhale.

Remembering the words I’d said to him, remembering how I’d opened up and told him everything—that I’d even been able to—was still a shock. And through it all, he’d listened. As I’d recounted my worst nightmare, the nightmare that still haunted me, he hadn’t said a word, hadn’t interrupted or bombarded me with questions. He hadn’t called me a liar, hadn’t looked at me like I was someone else, someone he didn’t even know. He’d just sat there, stroking my back and listening, and it was the best gift he ever could’ve given me and he probably didn’t even realize it.

I rubbed my eyes, then turned my head to look up at him. He was staring at me, his eyes full of worry and apprehension, and I wanted to erase it. Wanted to reassure him that even after everything, I was okay. I was still me. He was just seeing all of me now, even the parts I’d been trying for so long to hide.

“Hi,” I said, my voice scratchy and rough from sleeping for so long and all the tears I’d shed before I’d fallen under.

“Hey. How’d you sleep?” He let his hand slip from my head as I sat up and twisted on the couch so I could face him.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I looked at his face, trying to get a read on him, on what he saw now when he looked at me. Did he see some broken girl? Someone who was tainted and dirty? Someone who was weak and scared?

Or did he see me? Did he see the same Evie he always had?

“Okay,” I answered. “How long was I out for?”

“A while … most of the day. It’s almost five.”

I stared at him, my mouth parted, quickly doing the calculations in my head of how long I’d been out. Ten hours. I’d slept, on this uncomfortable couch, a lap serving as my pillow, for ten hours. For longer than I usually slept in three nights combined.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” he asked, already pushing up from the couch and heading to the kitchen. “You must be hungry.”

He didn’t wait for me to answer before he started rummaging around in the cabinets. I stood and walked over to him, reaching up to grab his arm as he pulled out a box of cereal. He froze, looking down at me, and I realized then how tense he was. His shoulders were stiff, the muscles in his arm coiled and tight under my hand, his jaw set.

And while I’d always thought about what it’d mean to me to tell him, I hadn’t stopped to think about what it must’ve been like for him to hear it. To hear about it happening to a girl he’d once loved. To know it had been happening while he’d been there and that I hadn’t told him. That he hadn’t known. Hadn’t been able to stop it.

Stepping in front of him, I situated myself between him and the cabinets and leaned back against the counter. Placing my hands on his chest, I ran my fingers in small circles against the soft cotton clinging to his body, wanting to soothe him as much as he’d managed to soothe me earlier.

“I can’t imagine how hard that was for you to hear, Riley, but I want you to know that I’m okay.”

He gave a jerky nod, but he still studied me, his gaze appraising, and every bit of his body language said he wasn’t buying it. The heavy cast of his eyes spoke volumes and said he was worried about me, scared of how to act now, and I hated it. I hated that anything had situated itself between us like this, especially after we’d managed to somehow overcome the five years we’d been apart.

“I’m still me. You don’t have to be different around me now.”

“I know. I’m just…” He shook his head, his eyes closing, and it was clear he wasn’t going to say any more.

Wanting that connection back, the connection I’d always been able to feel when I was with him, I stood on my tiptoes and slid my hand up his chest until I rested it against his neck and tugged his face down to mine. He came, reluctantly, and I pressed my mouth to his, keeping my eyes open as I did so, watching him. His eyes were open, too, studying me, but his lips weren’t responding like they had … before. He wasn’t responding like he had.