The Spark

“By Braden?”

“I was never able to prove it, but that’s what I’ve always suspected. The person attacked him as he walked to his car late one night. But they didn’t even try to take his wallet or his car keys. They came at him from behind, so he never got a look at the guy’s face, and the guy didn’t say a single word during the attack. All Mark was able to tell the police was that the guy had black dress shoes on. Of course, Braden and a few other million men wear dress shoes.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “Jesus.”

“There were other little things, but at that point, I stopped talking to Braden altogether. I wouldn’t answer when he called, and then he’d send me long emails and texts making me feel terrible for the things I was thinking.” She took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. “One night he showed up at my house.”

All of the hair on my arms stood up.

Autumn looked down, and when her head came back up, her eyes were filled with tears. “He said he just wanted to talk. He was crying, and I felt bad. So I let him in.”

I couldn’t breathe waiting for the rest.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she continued. “No one was home. And he…he…raped me.”

I froze. I knew the story was heading to an ugly place, but not here. I guess I’d thought he’d smacked her around and scared her maybe. Not this… I shut my eyes.

“Autumn…” I shook my head. “Fuck. Autumn.”

When I opened my eyes, tears were rolling down her cheeks, so I did the only thing that felt right. I pulled her against me and held her so tight that at one point, I worried I might be hurting her. My own tears fell against the back of her shirt. After a while, she pulled back.

“I want to finish.” She wiped her tears, and then reached out and dried mine. “I made it this far, and I need to get it all out.”

I nodded and swallowed a huge lump in my throat. “You don’t have to. Not for me.”

She nodded. “Thank you. But I need to do it for me.”

God, if I hadn’t already been crazy about this woman, I would be now. I bet she had no idea how strong she was.

For the next half hour, Autumn told me the rest of her story. How she hadn’t immediately gone to the police, because at first she hadn’t seen it for what it was. They’d had sex for years, and even though she’d told him repeatedly to stop this time, she didn’t physically fight him off with more than a shove. Eventually she’d just stilled, too terrified to move, waiting for him to be done. Then when the shock of it all wore off, she felt partially to blame somehow. She’d let him in. She’d accused him of things he might not have done. She’d made him upset—at least that’s how she’d seen it at first.

Then to make matters worse, when she’d finally started to move from shocked to angry and decided to talk to someone, that person wasn’t supportive.

Her father.

Her fucking father.

The asshole had the balls to question whether she could’ve been giving Braden mixed signals. As if there was any other signal that mattered when a woman said no.

By the time she found the courage to go to the police, of course there was no physical evidence left. So it was her word against his—an upstanding member of the legal community with no prior record. And when they interviewed Braden’s friends, he’d either convinced them to lie, or he’d been lying to his buddies all along, because they told the police Autumn had been the one stalking him, that she’d been upset and persistent when he’d broken things off.

The district attorney had said he’d pursue the case, but only after warning her of the likely outcome and how traumatic cases usually were for the victims. I wasn’t surprised since I knew firsthand that DAs didn’t like to go forward on a losing case. Resources were tight, and let’s face it, lawyers didn’t like to mar their records.

Autumn blew out a jagged breath and forced a smile. “Now I’d like to have another glass of wine. Would you like another one? Or actually, would you like your first one since I wound up drinking yours?”

I stood. “Definitely. But I’ll get them. I need to use the bathroom, anyway.”

After I filled two glasses to the brim, I went to splash some water on my face. It felt like I’d just run a marathon, though I’d barely moved from the couch in the last hour. I was physically drained, so I couldn’t even imagine how Autumn felt. As I stood there, it hit me for the first time why she’d decided to tell me everything tonight. I’d been so consumed with her story, I hadn’t taken a moment to realize what might’ve prompted her sharing it. Tonight in the yard had brought memories of being attacked to the surface.