Holding Strong
Page 50
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
All that? “I would never think those things about you.” To reassure her, he stepped up close and put his hands on her shoulders again, this time standing behind her. “How about you tell me and together we figure out what to do?”
He heard her swallow, felt her blond curls tease his chin when she finally nodded.
Hugging her, Denver wrapped her close and waited.
“They liked to set me up. A lot.”
That didn’t make any sense to him. “Set you up how?”
She put her face in her hands. The silence stretched out, but he didn’t rush her. He could sense her collecting her thoughts, searching for the words.
And working up the guts to tell him.
He kissed her temple and just held her, giving her the time she apparently needed.
Her hands came down and rested on his forearms, which were crossed under her breasts. “They would get guys to pretend they liked me. Sometimes to ask me to school dances or stuff like that. The guys...a couple of times they were their friends. Other times they were just dupes like me. Boys forced to do...mean things.”
It was the “mean” part that stirred his anger, and the fact she sounded so embarrassed told Denver it was still raw for her.
Yet what she said didn’t really explain anything. They pretended to like her? How could that have been so bad that she’d never stopped hurting over it?
He brought her around to face him, but let her huddle close. “Can you give me an example?”
As if she needed to ground herself, her small hands fisted in his shirt. “The first time it happened was when I was a freshman. A senior asked me to prom and I was...ecstatic. Life with the Nelsons was as far from fun as a girl could get.”
“How so?”
She waved a hand. “Small, dirty, ramshackle house. Tons of drunken fights. Foul language and fouler attitudes. For me, getting away from there, being with the other kids at prom, being normal, would have been like a Disney vacation.”
Everything she said just brought up more questions. Denver thought he could probably dedicate an entire day to interrogating her and still not know everything he wanted and needed to know.
“I spent two weeks cutting grass for Gene and Mitty, and they gave me a percentage of the money they would have made.”
“If you cut the grass, why didn’t you get all the money?”
Leveling a look on him, she said, “It was Gene and Mitty.”
Right. “What does cutting grass have to do with—”
“I used what I made to buy a dress and shoes at the thrift shop.”
Did she have any clue how she broke his heart? “I bet you looked sexy even then.”
That must’ve been the wrong thing to say because she jerked away and put several feet between them.
“It was all a sham. I was there that night, stupidly giddy, dressed up and waiting. And then still waiting.” With demons chasing her, she paced the room, always keeping her face averted. “Finally he showed up—in jeans and a T-shirt. I didn’t understand...until they all cracked up, laughing hysterically. It was a joke.” She shook her head, and said with emphasis, “I was a joke.”
Oh God. He wanted to kill them. All three of them, Denver decided.
“That game became their favorite sport.” She’d walked to a corner of the kitchen, her hands braced on the countertop. “Prom was the worst, but it happened four more times, each time more convincing than the last. And I guess I was just so...so stupidly desperate for something real, I was easy to convince. But I finally got smarter and I gave up on the idea of dances, or going to the football games or...anything like that.”
“I’m so damn sorry.”
She accepted that with a nod, her expression distant with her thoughts. “The last time it happened,” she whispered, “was in the summer when all the neighborhood kids were getting together to head to the lake.”
A hollowness filled her voice. Worse than the cough, because although her expression was carefully void of emotion, in her voice he heard the edge of hurt...and maybe a hint of tears. If she cried, Denver didn’t think he could bear it.
“This nice, shy boy talked me into going along and swimming with them. He said all the right things, telling me not to let Carver or the others know, like we had a special secret between us.”
She looked so delicate standing there, her eyes haunted—but her shoulders were straight and proud.
“I didn’t own a suit, so I wore a T-shirt and shorts.” Her voice lowered and her eyes narrowed with a touch of anger. “He kissed me in the lake. He...touched me.”
He heard her swallow, felt her blond curls tease his chin when she finally nodded.
Hugging her, Denver wrapped her close and waited.
“They liked to set me up. A lot.”
That didn’t make any sense to him. “Set you up how?”
She put her face in her hands. The silence stretched out, but he didn’t rush her. He could sense her collecting her thoughts, searching for the words.
And working up the guts to tell him.
He kissed her temple and just held her, giving her the time she apparently needed.
Her hands came down and rested on his forearms, which were crossed under her breasts. “They would get guys to pretend they liked me. Sometimes to ask me to school dances or stuff like that. The guys...a couple of times they were their friends. Other times they were just dupes like me. Boys forced to do...mean things.”
It was the “mean” part that stirred his anger, and the fact she sounded so embarrassed told Denver it was still raw for her.
Yet what she said didn’t really explain anything. They pretended to like her? How could that have been so bad that she’d never stopped hurting over it?
He brought her around to face him, but let her huddle close. “Can you give me an example?”
As if she needed to ground herself, her small hands fisted in his shirt. “The first time it happened was when I was a freshman. A senior asked me to prom and I was...ecstatic. Life with the Nelsons was as far from fun as a girl could get.”
“How so?”
She waved a hand. “Small, dirty, ramshackle house. Tons of drunken fights. Foul language and fouler attitudes. For me, getting away from there, being with the other kids at prom, being normal, would have been like a Disney vacation.”
Everything she said just brought up more questions. Denver thought he could probably dedicate an entire day to interrogating her and still not know everything he wanted and needed to know.
“I spent two weeks cutting grass for Gene and Mitty, and they gave me a percentage of the money they would have made.”
“If you cut the grass, why didn’t you get all the money?”
Leveling a look on him, she said, “It was Gene and Mitty.”
Right. “What does cutting grass have to do with—”
“I used what I made to buy a dress and shoes at the thrift shop.”
Did she have any clue how she broke his heart? “I bet you looked sexy even then.”
That must’ve been the wrong thing to say because she jerked away and put several feet between them.
“It was all a sham. I was there that night, stupidly giddy, dressed up and waiting. And then still waiting.” With demons chasing her, she paced the room, always keeping her face averted. “Finally he showed up—in jeans and a T-shirt. I didn’t understand...until they all cracked up, laughing hysterically. It was a joke.” She shook her head, and said with emphasis, “I was a joke.”
Oh God. He wanted to kill them. All three of them, Denver decided.
“That game became their favorite sport.” She’d walked to a corner of the kitchen, her hands braced on the countertop. “Prom was the worst, but it happened four more times, each time more convincing than the last. And I guess I was just so...so stupidly desperate for something real, I was easy to convince. But I finally got smarter and I gave up on the idea of dances, or going to the football games or...anything like that.”
“I’m so damn sorry.”
She accepted that with a nod, her expression distant with her thoughts. “The last time it happened,” she whispered, “was in the summer when all the neighborhood kids were getting together to head to the lake.”
A hollowness filled her voice. Worse than the cough, because although her expression was carefully void of emotion, in her voice he heard the edge of hurt...and maybe a hint of tears. If she cried, Denver didn’t think he could bear it.
“This nice, shy boy talked me into going along and swimming with them. He said all the right things, telling me not to let Carver or the others know, like we had a special secret between us.”
She looked so delicate standing there, her eyes haunted—but her shoulders were straight and proud.
“I didn’t own a suit, so I wore a T-shirt and shorts.” Her voice lowered and her eyes narrowed with a touch of anger. “He kissed me in the lake. He...touched me.”
