I closed my eyes again.
Ethan was quiet a minute and then said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were raped, Mac?” His tatted forearms rested on the bed, and he gently pried my clutched fingers from the covers and took my hand. The blood was gone, but his knuckles were bruised and swollen from the fight. “That you…. Christ, that you were pregnant. I would’ve helped you.”
My eyes flew open. “Who told you? Vic?” Is that how he found out. Did he tell my brother? No. That didn’t make sense. God, the betrayal was like acid trickling through my veins.
“No. I haven’t talked to Vic in years. I got a text last night, Macayla. I don’t know who the fuck sent it, and I would’ve ignored it, except it said something I couldn’t ignore.” He took out his phone and tapped on the screen. “‘He watched her for years,’” he read aloud. “‘I wonder if he was the one who raped your sister seven years ago.’”
He lowered his phone. “Seven years, Macayla. Jackson…. Fuck, is that why you gave him up? Is that why you never told me about the pregnancy? Why you wouldn’t tell me who his father was when you found him…. It was because you were raped. Jesus.” He ran his hand back and forth through his hair. “I never knew. I never fuckin’ knew you went through that.”
I couldn’t speak. My words were drowning in the dark cavern. Lost and spiraling down a drain. Why? Who would tell Ethan? Who knew about it? Who else knew Vic had watched me?
Ethan sighed. “I lost it. I’d called Hettie to see if she’d heard from Vic, and she said he was back. I knew you were staying in his cabin and… all I could think about was the text, and that I knew Vic had watched you for years on your birthday, and I thought….” His head dipped. “You were seventeen. Fuck,” he said, voice cracking. “Jesus, the text. It made sense.”
But it didn’t make sense. Because it was Vic Gate, and Vic protected. He shielded. Vic was a superhero. Oh my God. I’d accused him. His face. Oh God. Why did I do that?
My insides twisted. I was going to be sick. “He’d never do that. Vic would never do that.”
Ethan squeezed my hand. “Who did, Macadamia? Why would someone send me that text? Who else knew?”
I didn’t say anything. I stared out the window, watching the snowflakes fall and wanting nothing more than to be outside and silly dancing. To spin in circles, catch snowflakes on my tongue, and forget the monsters.
But I couldn’t. These monsters were real, and they wouldn’t be silly danced away.
I met Ethan’s dark eyes that were swirling with torment. Ruined with despair. Like Vic’s had been.
Vic. He was gone. He might never come back.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I can’t remember anything from that night, but one thing I do know Ethan—it wasn’t Vic.”
Then I told him everything.
Macayla
The mattress dipped and sheets rustled as I breathed in the scent of wood shavings. I opened my eyes to see Jackson sitting on the bed beside me. The wood shavings were from Waffles, who was cradled in his hands and clutched to his chest. The skinny pig’s little white whiskers twitched as if he was taking in all the new smells of his surroundings.
“Are you feeling better today, Mom?”
I smiled and reached out to cup his cheek, and my chest squeezed because he didn’t flinch or move away from my touch. “I’m just a little sad, Jack-o-bite.”
He scooched down and lay his head on the pillow. “That’s what Hettie said. Are you sad because Vic left?”
Oh God. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Yeah, little man.” And hurt. And scared because it had been three days since I’d seen him. Three days since he’d touched me. Since I’d heard his voice.
Two days since I’d texted him and hadn’t heard a response. I’d asked him to call me. No emojis. Just “I’m sorry. Please, call me.”
We moved into Hettie’s despite Callum’s offer. I wanted Jackson to be somewhere familiar and around people he trusted.
Ethan met Jackson for the first time, and it might have been a more heartwarming moment if I hadn’t been so worried he’d see something in him and know who the father was. But Ethan didn’t say anything.
Jackson was a little mistrusting of him at first, until I told him Ethan was the one who had bought him the Aquaman, which led into them talking about all the superheroes.
“Don’t worry. He’ll come back once he gets all the bad guys,” Jackson said, completely confident that Vic would survive whatever he was up against.
But Vic may never come back, and it had nothing to do with him going after the most dangerous criminals in the world.
I reached over and stroked Waffles’ nose. “I hope so.”