Because you hadn't given him anything—he had taken. I nodded even though I didn't know how that felt. I could only imagine. An ache formed in my chest.
"Anyway, I found out I was pregnant and you know the rest."
"Did you try to . . . contact him?" I asked.
"I didn't even get his last name." She laughed a small, quick laugh, but looked embarrassed. "He was a trucker. I was barely eighteen, hanging out in a bar, and I picked up a stranger and went back to a cheap hotel room with him. I don't exactly look like the picture of chastity."
"You don't have to look like anything to be raped, Shelly. Everyone has the right to say no." I spoke softly.
She nodded and wiped her cheek, running her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the black mascara she was wearing. I looked around to see if there was anything that could be used as a tissue, but there wasn't. "I know that now," she said. "I mean, intellectually, I know that. And Ian, my boyfriend, he's helped me a lot."
"You have a boyfriend?"
"Yeah. He's great. He wants to marry me, adopt Joey." She smiled, a genuine one.
"That's great, Shelly."
"Yeah." She sighed. After a second she turned to face me again. "The other night at the bar, Kyland actually came with me because Ian was working. They work down in the mine together. Ian, he trusts Kyland. Anyway, I hadn't been back to Al's since . . . well, since that night. I thought it'd be the last piece of closure I needed, you know, to put it in my past—to focus on the future. And then you and Kyland started fighting and I almost said something, but you were working . . . and I thought Kyland should be the one to tell you. But I don't know when he'll do that. Maybe he even thinks it's not his story to tell. But I thought, if I were you, I'd want to know. I didn't understand that fully until I saw you two together. I didn't know that you still love him."
My eyes flew to hers. "I don't love him anymore."
She looked at me dubiously, but didn't say anything. "Well anyway, it's still good to have all the facts. And I could provide at least a few, so there you go."
"Thank you, Shelly. And if I had known why you were at Al's the other night, I never would have made it worse for you."
She shook her head. "It actually made it better for me—I was so distracted, I didn't think to feel any anxiety being there." She laughed softly and so did I.
"I really appreciate you coming here. And I'm sorry we never got to know each other before this."
Her returning smile was warm and kind. "It wouldn't have worked before this. I'd have been jealous of you. But now . . . well, if you realize that you do still have some feelings left for Kyland, I think he'd be real happy about that."
. . . Because Shelly's pregnant. The words still haunted me, still wounded me, still echoed in my mind.
I nodded at Shelly, but I didn't know what to think. This was all such a shock. "I saw you that day," I said, distractedly, "walking on Main Street. Joey was on Kyland's shoulders . . ." God, that had hurt. I still felt the pain of it, even knowing the truth now. Shelly had been pregnant, with another man's baby. And Kyland had known that and had used it.
She nodded. "He's real nice to him—like an uncle. Since he was a baby, he's bought him shoes, diapers, you know, he's helped me out. Especially when my brothers still weren't talking to me. That's just how Kyland is."
Before I could respond, she hopped up. "Listen, I gotta get going. Joey's with my friend and she has to leave for work soon."
I stood up, too. "Thank you again, Shelly. Truly. You didn't have to do this and I just . . . thanks."
She nodded and smiled. "Good luck, Tenleigh." She walked out of the library, closing the door behind her. I leaned back against the bookshelf again and released a loud whoosh of air.
"Thanks," I said to the empty room. "I need it."
What the hell was going on? And what the hell had really happened four years ago? Why on earth had Kyland chosen to shatter my heart with a cruel lie?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tenleigh
I went back to the trailer later that evening, exhausted and dusty. I still hadn't wrapped my mind around what Shelly had told me. Initially, I had been unable to help the low current of joy and relief that had flowed through my body. But now . . . now I was angry and hurt again. If he hadn't really gotten Shelly pregnant, if he hadn't even slept with her, why would he hurt me like that? He had shattered me, obliterated me—my heart, my trust. It had taken me years to get over what he'd done to me—truth be told, I still wasn't completely over it. And why? Just so I'd take the scholarship and leave? Just because I'd suggested I'd give it all up for him? Was that why he'd done that to me? Did he really want me to get out of town that badly? Was he that worried I'd attempt to make a life with him here in Dennville, Kentucky rather than take the opportunity I'd been given? Clearly, what he'd done had worked. I'd practically left town the day he'd broken my heart. Could I forgive him for that part of it? For the pain that still lived just below my skin at the betrayal . . . the betrayal that didn't even exist? And if it didn't exist, then why did it still hurt? Because he'd wanted me to go—he hadn't loved me enough to try anything to come with me.
I got in the small, cracking, plastic shower and attempted to cleanse the day away. Then I put on a nightshirt and settled myself on the couch. I didn't think I'd be able to sleep, but I must have been even more tired than I thought because I was asleep in minutes.
"Anyway, I found out I was pregnant and you know the rest."
"Did you try to . . . contact him?" I asked.
"I didn't even get his last name." She laughed a small, quick laugh, but looked embarrassed. "He was a trucker. I was barely eighteen, hanging out in a bar, and I picked up a stranger and went back to a cheap hotel room with him. I don't exactly look like the picture of chastity."
"You don't have to look like anything to be raped, Shelly. Everyone has the right to say no." I spoke softly.
She nodded and wiped her cheek, running her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the black mascara she was wearing. I looked around to see if there was anything that could be used as a tissue, but there wasn't. "I know that now," she said. "I mean, intellectually, I know that. And Ian, my boyfriend, he's helped me a lot."
"You have a boyfriend?"
"Yeah. He's great. He wants to marry me, adopt Joey." She smiled, a genuine one.
"That's great, Shelly."
"Yeah." She sighed. After a second she turned to face me again. "The other night at the bar, Kyland actually came with me because Ian was working. They work down in the mine together. Ian, he trusts Kyland. Anyway, I hadn't been back to Al's since . . . well, since that night. I thought it'd be the last piece of closure I needed, you know, to put it in my past—to focus on the future. And then you and Kyland started fighting and I almost said something, but you were working . . . and I thought Kyland should be the one to tell you. But I don't know when he'll do that. Maybe he even thinks it's not his story to tell. But I thought, if I were you, I'd want to know. I didn't understand that fully until I saw you two together. I didn't know that you still love him."
My eyes flew to hers. "I don't love him anymore."
She looked at me dubiously, but didn't say anything. "Well anyway, it's still good to have all the facts. And I could provide at least a few, so there you go."
"Thank you, Shelly. And if I had known why you were at Al's the other night, I never would have made it worse for you."
She shook her head. "It actually made it better for me—I was so distracted, I didn't think to feel any anxiety being there." She laughed softly and so did I.
"I really appreciate you coming here. And I'm sorry we never got to know each other before this."
Her returning smile was warm and kind. "It wouldn't have worked before this. I'd have been jealous of you. But now . . . well, if you realize that you do still have some feelings left for Kyland, I think he'd be real happy about that."
. . . Because Shelly's pregnant. The words still haunted me, still wounded me, still echoed in my mind.
I nodded at Shelly, but I didn't know what to think. This was all such a shock. "I saw you that day," I said, distractedly, "walking on Main Street. Joey was on Kyland's shoulders . . ." God, that had hurt. I still felt the pain of it, even knowing the truth now. Shelly had been pregnant, with another man's baby. And Kyland had known that and had used it.
She nodded. "He's real nice to him—like an uncle. Since he was a baby, he's bought him shoes, diapers, you know, he's helped me out. Especially when my brothers still weren't talking to me. That's just how Kyland is."
Before I could respond, she hopped up. "Listen, I gotta get going. Joey's with my friend and she has to leave for work soon."
I stood up, too. "Thank you again, Shelly. Truly. You didn't have to do this and I just . . . thanks."
She nodded and smiled. "Good luck, Tenleigh." She walked out of the library, closing the door behind her. I leaned back against the bookshelf again and released a loud whoosh of air.
"Thanks," I said to the empty room. "I need it."
What the hell was going on? And what the hell had really happened four years ago? Why on earth had Kyland chosen to shatter my heart with a cruel lie?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tenleigh
I went back to the trailer later that evening, exhausted and dusty. I still hadn't wrapped my mind around what Shelly had told me. Initially, I had been unable to help the low current of joy and relief that had flowed through my body. But now . . . now I was angry and hurt again. If he hadn't really gotten Shelly pregnant, if he hadn't even slept with her, why would he hurt me like that? He had shattered me, obliterated me—my heart, my trust. It had taken me years to get over what he'd done to me—truth be told, I still wasn't completely over it. And why? Just so I'd take the scholarship and leave? Just because I'd suggested I'd give it all up for him? Was that why he'd done that to me? Did he really want me to get out of town that badly? Was he that worried I'd attempt to make a life with him here in Dennville, Kentucky rather than take the opportunity I'd been given? Clearly, what he'd done had worked. I'd practically left town the day he'd broken my heart. Could I forgive him for that part of it? For the pain that still lived just below my skin at the betrayal . . . the betrayal that didn't even exist? And if it didn't exist, then why did it still hurt? Because he'd wanted me to go—he hadn't loved me enough to try anything to come with me.
I got in the small, cracking, plastic shower and attempted to cleanse the day away. Then I put on a nightshirt and settled myself on the couch. I didn't think I'd be able to sleep, but I must have been even more tired than I thought because I was asleep in minutes.
