Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(60)

I reach for some Kleenex on the table beside the bed and hand them to her. She wipes her eyes and blows her nose. Her face is strawberry red and her eyes are puffy. She’s still so beautiful, though. My heart squeezes at her misery.

“Want to talk about it?”

She closes her eyes, anguish etched on her face. “God.”

It wasn’t a no. I mull that over and decide to press a bit. “You didn’t know Ella was in love with Brendan?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “God, no. We were friends, all three of us. We were friends in high school and we all ended up here at Bayard so we stuck together. We were just friends.”

“Did you really sleep with him?” I have to say, I’m not thrilled about this, but I already know she’s slept with other guys, and hell, I’ve slept with other girls, so it’s really a non-issue. Not to mention, the poor guy’s no longer with us.

She swallows and her lips tremble. She meets my eyes briefly, then looks away.

“It’s okay if you did,” I tell her gallantly. I think it’s gallant. I know I have to say it even if I don’t like the idea of her sleeping with other guys.

“It wasn’t like that,” she whispers. She twists the soggy Kleenex up in her hands, nearly shredding it.

I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know if I can talk about it.”

My insides twist up into knots again, suddenly afraid of what she’s going to say. I hold my breath and keep petting her back. “You can talk to me, baby.”

She gives a tiny nod, her head bent. “I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

Oh f*ck. Fuck me sideways with a chainsaw. Nausea rolls inside me. I can’t even speak.

Her voice is low and wobbly as she continues. “We were at his place one night doing homework. Then we had a couple of beers. Maybe he had more than me, I…was a little drunk, but not, like, passed out or anything. Ella wasn’t there. He…” Her voice chokes up. “He started trying to kiss me. He said he loved me. I told him I didn’t feel the same way, and I was sorry. He kept kissing me and I told him to stop and I was pushing him away, but he wouldn’t listen, and…I didn’t want to do it, but somehow we ended up having sex.” A small sob escapes her. “After, I lay there for a while, then I got up and left. The last words I ever said to him were ‘I hate you.’?”

She takes another breath. “The next day he texted me and said he was sorry and he loved me, and could we talk about it. I didn’t answer him and he kept texting me. I ignored his texts, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell Ella, because they were friends.” Her voice wobbles. “At first I was kind of…in shock. Almost numb. I was ignoring him and trying to pretend it never happened. And then three days later he…he hung himself.” Another sob escapes her.

“Jesus Christ, Skylar. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

She lifts her head and I stare down into her beautiful, tear-streaked face, the anguish there making my heart hurt. “Of course I blamed myself. I totally felt like it was my fault.”

“No.” I shake my head, my jaw set. This I know. “It was not your fault.”

“If I’d accepted his apology or talked to him, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” She gazes up at me with tear-drenched eyes. “If I’d reported what happened, maybe he would have got the help he needed, even though he would have been in trouble. I was sure he killed himself because of me. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell anyone what happened, not even the police. I know I should have, but I couldn’t. Brendan was a good guy, and a good friend…How was I supposed to tell people what he’d done?” She swallows. “His parents would hate me if they knew. What Ella said…that it was my fault…I believed that at first. God, I felt so guilty. I understand why Ella sees it that way.”

Christ. Jesus Christ.

“She doesn’t know the whole story. It wasn’t your fault.” I don’t know much about suicide but I know that much. My skin is burning and my guts are rolling. I hold Skylar tighter, squeezing my eyes shut.

“I know that now.” She sniffs. “I do. But it took a while for me to get there…and still, sometimes, I question myself. Brendan was always kind of a moody guy. He’d get down, but usually he was crazy fun. I didn’t realize he’d been struggling with bipolar disorder for a while. Then I felt guilty for not knowing.”

“He raped you. You should not feel guilty.”

Damn, I didn’t even need to go for all that awareness training to know that.

She gives another tiny nod. “I didn’t even want to admit it was rape at first. I kept telling myself I could have stopped him. That I didn’t try hard enough to stop him. I could have fought back more and…and I don’t know why I didn’t. He wasn’t violent. But…I didn’t want to do it. I told him that. I told him to stop and he didn’t.” She bows her head.

I close my eyes on another wave of sick that rises up inside me. I don’t know if I can stand the thought of Skylar being hurt like that. For a moment, I’m consumed with black rage.

“I was having nightmares and panic attacks. I was a spaced-out zombie. I felt so alone and hopeless. Then I just couldn’t live like that anymore. I needed help. I was determined that I wasn’t going to let what happened define me. When I talked to the counselor, the first thing I had to do was admit how angry I was at Brendan. Which was hard, because…he was dead.” She takes a couple slow breaths, fighting for control.