Rough Love (Tannen Boys 1)

It’s the first spark of my girl I’ve seen, and I want to swing from the fucking rafters in celebration. “Can you just tell me what happened then?”

“That’s not an easy thing to do. I’m embarrassed and mad, and I don’t want this to change how you see me. I’m better than this now, so much better than this, but today was like a perfect storm aimed right at my weakest parts.”

Her shoulders curl in, and my first instinct is to tell her that she never has to be embarrassed, not with me. But she’s entitled to feel whatever she’s feeling, so I keep my mouth shut and simply press my lips to her forehead, letting her know I’m here and to take her time.

She starts slowly, her words halting and soft. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, about us and about Jeremy. Not because I miss him or anything.” She huffs like that’s ridiculous, easing a fear I didn’t even know I had.

I remember the slick and fancy guy I saw her with at college that day. Maybe I’m wrong about my suspicions, and if so, I could understand her missing her ex. It’s hard to shut love off, even when things go wrong and it’s been a long time. We’re proof of that.

“But with him fresh on my mind, Kyle’s finger in my face and calling me a bitch dredged up some ugly memories I’d rather stay buried. And the punch . . .” She chews on her lip worriedly, her eyes darting left and right unseeingly. I think she’s lost to the past.

My hunch isn’t wrong. I can feel it in my gut. I saw her flinch and shrink like she wanted to be a smaller target. I force my voice to be neutral even though my insides are on the verge of an angry eruption. “Did Jeremy hit you, Allyson?”

She nods absently. “Yes.”

I’m furious and on the edge of spinning out and hunting this fucker down, but he’s not my priority. Allyson is. So I say nothing, burying my face in her neck, her hair strangling me, but I burrow in deeper and hold her tight, my fingers digging into her skin but I can’t stop. I don’t want it to be true. Not her, not my Allyson.

She wraps her arms around my neck, scratching at my scalp and cooing platitudes. I should be comforting her, but I let her soothe me too, praying it’s a sign that we’re both in this together.

“It was only once,” she rationalizes.

“One time too many,” I state unequivocally. “I’ve hurt a lot of people, Al, mostly on the field, but I would . . . could never hurt you.”

Her arms fall, and she pushes against me to get up. I can’t let her go, but one look in her eyes tells me she’s getting antsy, maybe even flighty, so I let her stand, staying at the ready to chase if she runs. She paces back and forth across the living room, from the front door to the kitchen, nibbling on her lip with her arms crossed tightly over her middle.

“The slap wasn’t the bad part, honestly. It was everything leading up to it, the years of little comments cutting me down inch by inch and isolating me from everything and everyone I knew, including my parents.” She stops pacing and looks at me, her eyes shockingly blue in her pale face. “Do you know what gaslighting is?”

I don’t bother racking my brain for the unfamiliar word. I just shake my head in answer.

She resumes her walk. “I didn’t either. I just thought I was crazy until my therapist gave it a name. It’s a kind of manipulation, little things that sound stupid but accumulate and change your perceptions of everything, even yourself. He made me doubt everything to the point I was confused all the time. I felt like I was losing my mind and didn’t trust anything, especially myself because I was obviously so stupid. I only trusted him because he loved me in spite of my shortcomings.”

“What the hell? I don’t know what to say. There are so many things wrong with that. Who’d do something like that? Why would someone do that?” I am so far out of my element here, but if this is where Allyson’s been in our years apart, I need to understand. I want to understand her.

“It started out small, even funny at first. I’d set my glasses down by the computer where I was working and go get a drink. I’d come back and they’d be moved. He’d laugh at how forgetful I was, like ‘Ha-ha, you can’t even keep up with glasses, silly girl,’ and it was a little enough thing that I believed him. We’ve all done things on auto-pilot like put the remote control in the fridge or something, so it seemed plausible and I didn’t realize for a long time that he was moving them.”