Bent not Broken (156 page)

When I’m safely in the privacy of my room, I quickly change and crawl under my comforter with the little pieces of Asher I hold in my hand.

I tell myself before reading the first one that I’m only going to read five each day and then when I’ve read them all, I’ll just start again.

My whole body shakes as I pull out the first one, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before reading.

Your strength is inspiring.

This one makes a small smile spread across my face. I’ve never considered myself a strong person. In fact, I’ve always seen myself as weak, especially the last couple years. But now, looking at myself through Asher’s eyes, I understand what he sees. It took strength just to remain here.

I pull out the next one, feeling a little more relaxed than I was with the first.

My lasagna recipe . . .

Stouffers from the freezer aisle.

For the first time in weeks, I really, truly laugh. He always had a way of bringing that side out of me.

I miss those green eyes. I hope they’re still as bright and vibrant as they were the last time I saw them.

Any remaining hint of the smile I just had is gone. I have a hard time picturing my own eyes in that way, but he always mentioned when they were shining.

If you go fishing, make sure to take my pole.

That’s one thing that I don’t know if I’m ready to do without him. One of the memories that will live in the forefront of my mind is when he kissed me in the rain.

I love you. I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with you. Don’t forget that there are other people around you who love you too. Don’t shut them out.

Time passes as I lay there letting my emotions pour out of me. It’s tempting to read another note, but I’m not done processing the ones I’ve just read. Asher always knew how to mix some humor into life, and he achieved a perfect balance today.

“Kate,” my mom says, startling me.

Turning my head, I see her standing in my doorway. She came home for me. She walks slowly in my direction, almost like she’s afraid of how I’m going to react, then surprises me by lying down behind me and cradling me next to her body. I’ve messed up so many times. There’s so much heartache that I could have saved myself if I had just opened up to her. It’s always easier to see things more clearly when you’re looking back.

“What’s bothering you? Please talk to me,” she says, running her fingers through my hair.

I remember how much weight was lifted when I told Asher about the one thing that haunts me . . . the one thing that holds me back. I turn around to face her and say the one thing I’ve been scared to say for years.

“I was raped,” I cry.

She stops, and I feel her fingers tremble against my scalp. “What did you just say?”

“A couple years ago, someone raped me. He held me down and raped me.” Sickness coursed through my veins as I relive the whole thing for her. I leave out a few of the details, but in the end when the big secret is washed away, I feel better. One more brick has been lifted from my chest.

And when I’m done, when the cloud has been lifted, she grips me tight against her chest and cries with me. I’ve thought about this day over and over again, and now that it’s done, I regret not doing it sooner.

She’s showing me love. Sweet, selfless, undying love.

I love her fifty million times to the moon and back.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs.

“I know that now.”

Chapter 28

Three Months Later—May 2013

I’ve never been more excited to see winter melt away than I was this particular spring. I’m taking it one day at a time. I’ve learned that I can’t bury the past away; it just makes it worse.

The day I lost Asher is still hard to think about, but I do allow myself to go there from time to time. That’s another reason I welcome spring . . . I can lie outside and look at the stars. Every time I do, it feels like he’s lying right beside me. If I let my mind go, I can feel him holding my hand, and sometimes I think I feel his fingers brushing through my hair.

I miss him.

The last one hundred and six days I’ve thought about him one hundred and six times. I’ve read all his notes at least ten times over, re-reading some of my favorites every day. I don’t know if that’ll ever get old.

I crawl onto the middle of Beau’s old trampoline, stopping in the center to glance up at the clear night sky. It’s so much better than the turtle I’ve been lighting in my room night after night. It reminds me of the campfire Asher and I had last fall. I can almost taste the chocolate and marshmallow stuck on his lips. If I close my eyes, the whole night replays like a film, taking me back to a happier time.

After living a few minutes in sweet memories, I hear a familiar sound in the distance. One I haven’t heard in months. The one I’ve wanted to hear every day since he left for college.

I stay still, waiting to hear the door of his truck squeak. Once it does, it’s so tempting to get up and run over and jump into his arms, but it doesn’t feel like they’re waiting for me anymore. It feels like I’ve lost that privilege.

Two guys.

Two loves.

Both gone.

I pushed one away and lost the other forever.

Regret fills me. Sadness consumes me.

I bite my lower lip when I hear him slam his door shut and wait silently to hear the sound of his front screen door closing, but it doesn’t. Taking a deep, pained breath and closing my eyes, I listen to the sound of shoes rustling in the grass. After many loud, thumping heartbeats, I open them again to see him standing at my feet, watching me silently.

The moonlight reflects on his skin, reminding me just how beautiful he is. Even without the light, I know what’s inside of him, and that’s the best part. He’s the complete package.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks with the deep husky voice I’ve missed so much. I used to spend nights replaying how it sounded when he said my name.

“Looking at the stars,” I reply, feeling a thickness in my throat. “What are you doing home?”

“I took my last test earlier and I was pretty anxious to get out of the dorms,” he says, running his fingers through his brown hair. It’s grown out again from the last time I saw him at the funeral. “Can I join you?”

His voice is unsure, but I’m not. I’ve missed him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I joke, patting the space next to me.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called. Things have been crazy,” Beau says as he settles in beside me.

“It’s okay.”

“What have you been up to?” he asks, tucking his hands behind his head.

Sadness floods my chest as I think of all the times I wanted to call Beau, but couldn’t gather the courage. I swallow, trying to get a grip on my emotions. I’ve tried to be better at not holding things in and keeping them to myself, but this was really the only exception.

“Working and reading mostly. I’m thinking about throwing something else in the mix soon.”

He laughs, and I feel his hand brush against mine. The tingle it sends running down my back is confusing, so I push it back not wanting to feel something that can never be. I’m not ready to deal with those emotions yet.

“There’s always school. You’re too smart to stay here.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “All I know right now is there has to be more to life than the diner. But honestly, I couldn’t have made it through the last few months without that place and the people who come in every day. They’re like family now, you know?”

I turn my head to face him for the first time and see him flinch. I know he knows I’m looking at him, but he avoids my eyes.

“I’m sorry I left that day at the funeral. It’s weird, you know? Trying to console the person you love while she’s mourning the person she loves.” He shakes his head, still avoiding any eye contact with me. “I don’t know if I was giving you what I thought you deserved, or just being selfish, but when I look back now, I wish I had done things differently.”

My heart plummets. Where did things go so wrong? When I try to look back and figure it all out, it always points to Drew, but when I really think about it, it was all me. I didn’t deal with things in the best way. I didn’t let anyone help me . . . how could they if they didn’t even know.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was selfish to think you’d just drop everything to stay with me,” I admit, using the sleeve of my sweatshirt to dab my eyes.

He entwines his fingers with mine, and I swear holding hands has never felt this good. It’s a reassurance that there is still a chance for us, for our friendship. “I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to hold you so fucking bad and never let you go, but I couldn’t be that guy anymore.”

“What guy?” I ask, my chest rising and falling more with every passing second. Why does he do this to me?

“The guy who isn’t good enough and would always come second. For some reason, I thought we had it. I fucking felt it, but when it came down to it, I was wrong.” He pauses, letting his eyes catch mine for the first time. “When you told me you weren’t ready for us, it almost killed me, but I thought it just wasn’t our time, that you needed your space.”

“Beau—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupts, shifting so that his whole body is facing me. “There was hope for us. When I looked at you, I didn’t see the girl I wanted to share my first kiss with, I saw the girl I wanted to share every kiss with. It might sound stupid, but I saw forever in us, Kate. The morning I saw you in the car with Asher, I felt like someone was fucking stabbing me. I never want to feel that way again.”

Ironic, since it feels like he’s the one choking me right now. Guilt is an all-consuming reaction to things we regret. While I know without a doubt that I wasn’t ready for Beau then, I never wanted to hurt him.

“I’m sorry. I hope I can explain it all someday. I know it won’t make it all right, but maybe you’ll understand. I never ever wanted to hurt you. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“I think I knew that,” he says.

I stare back at the sky, identifying constellations to keep my mind busy. I’m glad we had this opportunity to talk and shorten the space between us, but it’s also drudging up some things I haven’t thought about in a long time.

“Are you home for the whole summer?” I ask.

He lets go of my hand and sits up, rubbing his hand along his forehead. “Yeah, I’m going to work with my dad.”

I nod, focusing my eyes on his broad, toned back.

“I better get to bed. I have to work tomorrow,” he says, sliding off the edge of the trampoline.

“Beau.”

He stops but doesn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“Can we hang out this summer? Like we used to?”

“I don’t know,” he says, walking away.

Maybe I should have stopped him . . . but I didn’t.

****

“I’m glad you decided to come in today. How have you been?” Dr. Karcher asks as she rests her clipboard on her lap.

I came once a couple years ago at my mom’s urging, but I left without saying much more than my name. I wasn’t ready, but then one of Asher’s napkin notes pushed me here. I’d held it in my hand, reading it over and over for days before finally deciding to come. Even now, I roll the paper between my fingers, reciting the words in my head.

Talk to someone. If you hold everything in, it will keep you from being the person you could be.

He’s right. I’ve missed out on so many things, and that stops now. Drew is no longer going to be my reason for making any decisions. This is my life, and I’m taking control back.

I still haven’t decided how much I want to tell her. I’ve been here a few other times, but I always close up and end up having to leave early.

She can’t turn back time and completely erase the rape.

She can’t bring Asher back.

How is she supposed to fix me?

“I’m just taking it one day at a time right now,” I reply, trying to get comfortable in my chair.

“What’s a normal day like for you?”

I glance at the ceiling, trying to configure what a day is really like. I live it without thinking about it much. “I go to work most mornings. And when I get off after lunch, I usually go for a run. The rest of my day is spent reading or watching TV with my mom when she’s home.”

“How is your relationship with your mom?” She leans in closer, tapping her pen against her chin.

“It’s better than it was. She works a lot, and for a while we just weren’t communicating like we should. We’re working on that.”

“Has your relationship always been a challenge?” What do any of these questions have to do with why I’m here?

“No, I started to pull away when I was sixteen,” I answer.

“And why was that do you think?”

“I think it was a combination of growing up and pulling away. I pulled away from almost everyone,” I admit, resting my elbow against the side of the chair. I don’t know if the chair is uncomfortable, or if it’s just being here that makes it feel that way.

“What caused you to pull away?” she asks, tilting her head. Dr. Karcher has an interesting look about her with frizzy brown curls and glasses that are slightly too large for her narrow frame.

I focus my eyes on the diplomas that hang on the wall. There are at least six of them, but they don’t impress me. It’s all just paper to me until I see something come out of this.

“Something happened a few years ago, and I just couldn’t find a way to deal with it.” I stop, lifting my legs up in the chair so that I can wrap my arms around them. “Why should anyone else have to deal with them?”

“And when you think about it now, how do you feel?”

This I have to think about before answering. It’s definitely less painful to think about than it once was, but it still affects so much of my life. It holds me back and threatens me.

“It still hurts. It will always hurt, but the ache gets easier to deal with as the days pass.”

“And what are you doing to deal with it?”

“Trying to face some of my fears head on,” I answer honestly.