What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(91)

With that touch, with those simple words, I broke.

It was like the dam breaking, so much emotion rushing through me at once I couldn’t place it, couldn’t find a raft to safely float on top. Instead, I was drowned immediately, no air in sight. Everything just hit at once — the memory of Wolfgang, of what he did, of what he said, of how he permanently changed me forever. And Reese, how he’d opened me up again, helped me through my injuries — internally and externally — and how he’d shown me joy again when I swore I’d never find any.

I squeezed my eyes shut and folded in on myself as the waves took me under, and mom cried, too, wrapping her arms around me in a shield. “Oh, mwen chouchou,” she whispered, rocking me gently. “What happened to my sweet girl?”

That broke me even more, and I pressed the hand that was around my crystal to my chest, trying to soothe the ache. Every breath burned, like I really was inhaling water, like I was drowning right there in my aunt’s guest bedroom.

And that’s when I knew.

That’s when it hit me, all of it — the pain, the hiding, the sense of worthlessness, the fight to be more, the failure, the hope, the love, the gut-wrenching heartbreak. And I knew I couldn’t take another step forward until I faced my past, until I looked every ghost in the eye.

Starting with my wolf.

For the longest time, I just stayed there on the bed, curled up on myself as my mom rocked me and ran her hands over my bald head in an attempt to soothe me. I could feel her own heart breaking, and I knew I was about to break it more.

But I couldn’t keep my secret any longer.

I lifted my head, sniffing and wiping the tears from my face as my eyes settled on hers. “Manman,” I whispered, and my lips trembled again, but I held my chin high despite the fear blooming in my chest. “I was raped.”

The water receded as soon as the words were out, even though my heart broke at the sight of my mother’s hands flying to her mouth, her head shaking, her eyes welling with tears as she watched me. It brought her pain just like I knew it would, but I’d told her the truth. I’d told her what I should have so long ago, but didn’t have the courage to.

And just saying those three words, I felt like I was staring my ghost in the eyes, not backing down, not giving up.

“Oh, no,” she whispered through her hands, still shaking her head as tears ran down her dark cheeks. She reached for me, pulling me into her chest. She readjusted her grip, over and over, like she couldn’t shield me enough, like she couldn’t have me close enough. “No. No, no, no. I thought that was what had happened. It was what my heart told me when you came home, when you changed everything about your appearance, when you flinched away from my touch. But I didn’t want to be right… Oh, my child, I didn’t want to be right.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

She ripped me away from her chest at that, her eyes a burning fire when they landed on me. “No. You do not apologize for this. Ever. Ever, do you hear me? It is not your fault, and you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you before,” I amended, holding back tears. “I’m sorry I was such a coward. And I’m sorry I have to hurt you by telling you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, framing my face with her cool hands. “You are the furthest thing from a coward that could ever exist.”

I nodded past the tears blurring my vision again, and she brought my forehead to her lips, holding them there a long moment before she released me. When our eyes met again, she wiped my tears away with her palms before framing my face once more.

“I want you to tell me everything,” she said. “If you’re ready.”

“I am,” I said quickly. “I am. And I need your help, too. Because… there’s a guy.”

She quirked a brow. “There’s a guy?”

I cringed a little, nodding. And recognition touched my mother’s eyes as soon as she saw my reaction.

I didn’t have to say a word for her to know who I was referring to.

“Alright, mwen chouchou,” she said, grabbing her smoothie from the bedside table. “Start talking.”





It was after midnight by the time I finished telling my mom everything that had happened, and we’d both experienced every emotion on the scale of human capacity. All the muscles in my body ached from the tension, the tears, the admissions, the revelations.

I walked her through every aching second of that last night at Bramlock, even though I knew I was adding a scar to her heart that would never heal.

No one wanted to imagine their baby girl getting raped.

But she held my hand through every painful detail, holding me when I was crying too hard to speak, giving me space when I needed to get up and pace just to finish a thought. And when I was done, when I’d caught her up on that night, I just kept right on, flowing into the depression of the months that followed, the hollowness, the lack of joy in my life even when I sat down at the piano.

And I told her about Reese.

I told her about our lessons, about the way he pushed me to dig deep, to face my demons, to take my pain and turn it into music. I told her about all that he’d been through, how he’d brought me hope in a time when I thought it would never exist for me again. I told her about the kiss, about how I ran away, and then how we somehow found our way back together.