It’s Saturday morning. Against my initial hesitations, I decide to go on a run to clear my head. I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept replaying what happened at the diner again and again, visualizing all the ways that things could have gone. It was bad enough, what happened. But it could have been a thousand times worse. Deep down, I know that, and it’s left me shaken.
I can only imagine how Dominique must feel. Speaking of… I spot a familiar black Escalade as I round the corner of my street, my sneakered feet smacking against the pavement.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, but I don’t slow down. Not until the car gets close enough for me to spot Dominique through the windshield. I let out a small breath of relief. I was pretty sure it was him, but it helps having the confirmation.
The Escalade pulls up beside me and slows, keeping pace with my jog as one of the windows rolls down and Roman hangs an arm out of the passenger side window. My heart stutters in my chest, despite everything that’s happened. I spot Emilio in the backseat. Looks like the gang is all here.
“Allie,” Roman calls my name. His voice is hard and I instantly bristle at his tone. “Get in the car.”
“Pass,” I tell him, picking up my pace. I swallow hard, forcing myself not to focus on the sound of his voice. Longing sweeps through me, but I push it aside and keep my eyes trained ahead of me.
“Allie.” There’s a warning in his voice. He’s angry. Does he blame me for what happened last night? Probably.
“Go away, Roman.”
The Escalade jerks to a stop and Roman jumps from the car. I squeal when he rushes me and between one second and the next, he has me hoisted over his shoulder and unceremoniously throws me into the backseat beside Emilio before slamming the door and getting back in the front seat.
“Bro, what the fuck?” Emilio snaps. “What happened to playing this cool?”
“Buckle up.” Roman barks, ignoring him.
I rush to right myself and then press against the door as far away from Emilio as I can get as Dom pulls the car back onto the road. My breaths are loud and heavy in the quiet space and I can feel all their eyes on me.
“Let me out.” Adrenaline floods through me and I close my eyes. It’s just the guys. I’m fine. They’re not going to hurt me. Even if Roman is angry with me, he wouldn’t hurt me. Not like that.
It doesn’t matter. Telling myself I’m safe doesn’t stop the panic coursing through my veins. I’m hyperventilating now.
“Allie, it’s okay. We just want to talk.’ Emilio unbuckles and slides closer to me and I lose it in a haze of blind terror.
“Let me out. Let me out!” I scream and my fingers claw at the door. Finding the handle, I jerk it open. Dominique slams on the brakes just as I throw myself from the car. I slam against the pavement, asphalt scraping against my skin and three sets of doors open and slam shut. Curses fly but I’m already scrambling to my feet, uncaring of the scrapes or bruises I know I have. Blood drips down my forearm and all three guys step toward me.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer.” I hold a hand out toward them, urging them to stay away. My other hand clutches my head as I struggle to get air into my lungs. My head is pounding, an incessant beat growing louder and louder as each second passes.
“Allie, we won’t come any closer. Breathe. We won’t hurt you. You know that.” Dom’s voice cuts through some of my panic. I step back on the pavement until my feet meet grass and then I collapse. Pressing my head between my knees I rock back and forth, sucking in air.
“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” If I say it enough, it’ll be true.
“What do you need?” Dominique again.
I shake my head.
“Allie?” Emilio’s voice is higher than usual. I look up and all three are standing maybe fifteen feet away with a mix of worried and confused expressions.
I swallow hard. “Hands.” My voice shakes. “I need to see your hands.”
Three scowls greet me but without hesitation, Dominique holds his hands out and takes two steps forward. “Okay. Here are my hands.”
I take in his darker skin. The contrasting pink of his palms. I force myself to recognize how different his hands are from the men who hurt me. He takes another step. Then another. My breathing slows and I shudder.
Dominique crouches down in front of me, hands still lifted. I reach out and take one of his hands in my own. I turn his palm over. Safe. Dom is safe. Emilio steps closer, his hands lifted as well.
The sun-kissed color of his skin has my chest rising and falling faster and faster. I close my eyes. “I’m sorry. I—” I shake my head. Dom waves him back and without me having to ask, he steps further away from me.
“What is it about hands?” Dominique asks.
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about it. I know I’m freaking out and I know they want answers but I can’t—
“We know you were assaulted.” His voice is gentle, but his words are like a slap.
What? All the blood drains from my face.
“Baby—”
I jerk my head toward Roman. His voice is filled with pain as his wide, haunted eyes meet mine. His hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. He steps closer and I flinch.
Cursing, he rounds to the opposite side of the car. “Dammit.”
“You’re not helping. Get your shit together,” Dominique tells him. He turns back to me. “Can you explain what it is about hands. We just want to help. We didn’t know. Not until last night…”
Last night, after Roman’s dad showed up. He must have told them. Shame washes over me in cascading waves that leave me drowning in self-loathing and disgust. They know. All three of them know. Tears fill my field of vision and I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, fighting to keep them from falling.
“Allie—”
“Your hands are different,” I choke out. I gasp for breath and force more words past my lips. “The man who hurt me… I only saw his hands. I… Your hands are different. I know you won’t hurt me. I’m not saying Roman would. I know it doesn’t make sense but….” I give him a pleading look, begging with him to understand.
Dom’s eyes tighten and he runs a hand over his tightly braided hair. “Your mind gets it but your body doesn’t.” He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I get it.”
My shoulders slump in relief. “Your hands are different. He wasn’t black. It’s easy for me to convince myself you’re safe.”
He nods. “And with Roman and Emilio?”
I shrug. “I think he was maybe Latino, too. I don’t know, but his hands, they were tan. Darker than mine. Like…”
“Like theirs.”
I nod, unable to look at either of them. God, what they must be thinking right now.
“The guy who’s been with you all week—?” Dominique doesn’t finish but I know what he’s asking.
“Like a brother. I’ve known him since grade school. And he has tattoos.” I trace the back of my hand. “They cover the tops of his hands. A skull and roses… rosary beads…” I say all of this hoping he understands. I know I’m not making complete sense but I don’t have another way to put into words why hands matter.
He nods again. “Okay. Okay. Let me think.” He stands and goes back toward his car. He says something to Roman and Emilio and Roman explodes, throwing his hands up in the air and cursing. He pulls at his hair, but when he looks at me, all of his anger evaporates. In its place is stark need and devastation.
My chest tightens. He’s not hiding any of his emotions from me. Not this time. He lets me see all of it. Every painful piece of what he’s feeling. And it leaves me reeling. I don’t know how to interpret his anguish. Is he upset because of what happened? Because I’m such a mess?
He doesn’t come any closer. Just stares at me with unmasked emotion, and it’s suddenly too much. Seeing him hurts too much.
I swallow hard and push back up to my feet. My eyes stray to his clenched fists and I notice that he’s still wearing my bracelet. The one I gave him before the game. I try not to read into it but does that mean—
“Allie, baby.” His voice is raw. “I never—” His voice cracks and he looks away. “I fucked up. I thought some things and they weren’t true and I wasn’t there when you needed me.” He turns back to me and I can see the despair in his eyes. “I messed up. But I’m here now. I want to be there for you. You have to let me be there.”
I shake my head. I can’t deal with all of this right now. Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step away, retreating back the way I’d come. “I… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“Allie!”
I pause, hating how weak I feel right now. How broken and shattered I am inside.
“I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you.” He takes a tentative step forward and I jerk away. He stops and offers me a sad smile. “I would never hurt you. You’ve gotta know that.”
“Wouldn’t you?” My own voice cracks as the words spill out on their own. I’m not sure if I’m asking or challenging him, but he did hurt me. He’s been hurting me.
Roman’s face falls. He rubs the back of his neck and averts his gaze. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t know. If I’d known I never would have… Allie, I never meant…”
“But you never asked.” Tears fall freely down my cheeks. I don’t even bother to wipe them away. I want him to see them. I want him to see every ugly broken thing about me and know he had a part in it. I want him to hurt the same way he made me hurt. Because just like Ryker, he left me. Right when I needed him the most. “I tried to talk to you. That first day I came back to school. As soon as I saw you, I walked straight up to you and do you remember what you said? What you called me?”
Anguish fills his gaze, but I can’t find it in me to hold back.
“You called me a whore.” I shake my head, more silent tears falling down my face, enough so that Roman is a blurry shadow in front of me, his features no longer recognizable. “I can’t do this. Just… leave me alone. I think I’ve been through enough.”
I turn and jog home. Thankfully, no one follows.
