She didn’t reply right away. I was preparing myself for some smart comment, but it didn’t come. Instead she stared out the window toward her house. I waited for her to either try and leave again or say something.
“I’ve told the story so many times I’m sick of telling it. No one believed me but my parents and the police. And then the Lawtons got in the officer’s ear, and he turned on me too. I was young and terrified of sex. Why would I lie about it? That’s what I never understood,” she said before turning to look back at me.
“You know the story, Brady. You heard it two years ago like everyone else. It hasn’t changed. But I have. I’m not na?ve anymore. I grew up.”
I believed her. Every word. The pain in her eyes was clear even with nothing but the streetlight illuminating her face. The guilt inside me grew, and I wanted to hug her or apologize or do something, but she wouldn’t accept it.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said.
She gave me a small half smile that tilted up one corner of her mouth. “Yeah, well, you’re the only one.”
And she was right. I was the only one. The others would believe Rhett forever. It made me sick to think about how power and popularity could ruin others’ lives.
“If I could convince them, I would,” I told her honestly.
She laughed again and shook her head. “If anyone else said that, I wouldn’t believe them. But you’ve always been the hero. Continue on with your crown of sainthood and go about your life. I made it through hell and was rewarded with that little girl sleeping in there. She’s all I need.”
When she reached for the door this time, I didn’t ask her to stop. My question had been answered. My guilt wasn’t relieved, and I knew it never would be. Just like she would never forget the pain this town put her through.
“If you ever need a friend, I’m here,” I told her as she stepped out of the truck.
She didn’t laugh this time, but I could see a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure you are, Brady. But I’m not a charity case. I’m strong, and I don’t need anyone.”
As she walked back to the house, I watched until she was safely inside before I started my truck. Tonight I hadn’t made myself feel better, and I realized that was exactly why I had come here to begin with. I had wanted to ease my mind.
It had done the opposite.
I was more weighed down than before. Riley was a good person. Life had been unfair to her. This town had been unfair to her. She’d been raped by an older guy, then ridiculed when she needed support. I had been one of those who turned on her. I couldn’t change the past, but I was going to change the future.
Riley Young was going to be my friend. I wasn’t sure how I would make this happen, because she obviously didn’t like me. Hell, I doubted she had even an ounce of respect for me. But I would make it my mission to earn her friendship just like I had earned her hate. The girl we had all turned against hadn’t crumbled. She had found a strength inside herself and survived. I admired that. I wanted to believe I was that strong. But if I was faced with a real crisis in my life, would I be able to overcome it like she had? I didn’t want to doubt it, but I did.
Human Nature Isn’t Always Pretty
CHAPTER 9
RILEY
Mom was smiling at me when I walked back into the house. She thought she had achieved something. All she’d achieved was Brady getting to ease some guilt. I’d probably never see him again unless it was in passing when I was walking Bryony to the park. He had his answers. He believed me. But it meant nothing to me.
“Well,” Mom said as she stared at me.
“I’m sure Brady will get a good night’s sleep tonight. His football career is safe. Sir Lancelot can continue on his merry way, bringing joy to all,” I replied with a fake cheer in my voice.
Mom’s smile fell into a frown. “Honestly, Riley, that’s not a healthy attitude. It took a lot of nerve for him to come here and talk to you. He’s the first one of your friends to believe you. That says a lot.”
I stopped walking toward the hallway and turned back around. “My friends? Are you serious, Mom? They aren’t my friends. They were never my friends. Friends don’t turn on you like that. I have never had real friends. Ever.”
“Honey, y’all were young,” she started, and I held up my hand to stop her.
“No. Do not say that. We weren’t that young. We were going into the tenth grade. They all called me a liar. All of them. When I was hurt and terrified, they turned on me. All I had was you and Dad. I do not have friends. I never have,” I repeated.
Mom leaned back on the sofa, resigned. “Okay” was her simple response. “I understand why you feel that way. I would too in your situation. Honestly when it all happened I felt like I didn’t have friends either. Everyone was different with me. As if they questioned your story too. It hurt, but I can’t imagine how much more it hurt you. If you aren’t ready for a friend or to trust someone, I understand. But one day you’re going to have to, Riley. One day you are going to need the courage to step out and let someone in. Human nature isn’t always pretty. You saw a very ugly side of it at a young age.”
This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. But it had been a while. A year ago, a guy in the town we were living had asked me out on a date. He worked at the local movie theater, and I went there once a week to watch a movie after Bryony went to bed at night.
I had stopped going to the movies after that. The idea of facing him or even trusting someone wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t desire the things I once had. I hadn’t wanted to date or get close to anyone.
Mom didn’t get it. No one got it. I was tired of trying to get them to understand. I just needed to be left alone. I liked things as they were. Changing them now was pointless. I had a rhythm. Bryony was happy with our routine. My life as a social teen was over. I was a mom.
Why couldn’t she just be happy for me? I had a plan for my future. Not all seventeen-year-olds could say that. I didn’t rely on a guy to make me feel important. That was also a solid check in my corner. So why did my mother think I still needed fixing? I was pretty damn perfect like this.
“Good night, Mom,” I said before heading down the hallway to the bathroom. Where I would soak in the tub for an hour and read a book. That was all I needed tonight. I didn’t need friends. I had Bryony. She was my world.
*
“Momma.” Bryony’s soft voice was in my ear. “Momma.”
I opened my eyes to see my daughter hovering over my face.
Stretching my hands over my head, I smiled up at her. “Good morning,” I said.
“Gan’mamma gone,” she replied, frowning.
That took me only a second to sink in before I sat up and swung my feet over the side of the bed and jumped up. Bryony scrambled down beside me.
“Do you mean she left the house?” I asked her.