Page 28 of Tethered

“Better mine than your father’s.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Well, it’s back where it belongs now. That’s all that matters.”

“Is it? What happens when you decide you want it back? Are you going to waltz into my house and take it? Because, as you pointed out, you seem to have some immunity to both me and the house.”

“The house?”

Shit. I wave him off. I assumed he would know—the house is not alive as such, but it’s more than a regular house.

“It has a built-in system that alerts me to most people approaching. It doesn’t alert me to you, though.”

I don’t mention the knock I felt and wonder if he will. When he says nothing, I have to fight the urge to reach over and slap him.

“Funny, right? Especially as I knew it was you approaching.”

He stares at me, and I can see him weighing what to say.

“I knocked. I wanted to announce myself.”

“Which is just another way of saying if you didn’t knock, you could sneak in.”

“I wouldn’t?—”

“Yes, you fucking would,” I hiss, done with his bullshit. “You found your way to me in my pasture. You weren’t invited, but you let yourself onto my property anyway so that you could seek me out and torment me.”

He looks stricken. “That’s not it at all. I owe you. I wanted to?—”

“You owe me? Are you for real right now? You drugged me. I was sixteen years old, and I fucking trusted you, a mistake I will never make again. You left me?—”

“I didn’t know your father would rape you!” he roars. “I saw your birthmark, knew you were coming into your powers, and did the only thing I could think of to buy us some time. I just thought if I could knock you out for the night, you’d be safe while I could come up with a plan to get you away from him. Because once he knew what you could do, he’d…” He swallows hard as I stare at him.

“You were never supposed to wake up, let alone make it home. You should have been out cold until the morning.”

“My father didn’t rape me.”

He rears back. “What? But I heard that you were…and that’s why you killed him, right? If I hadn’t drugged you, maybe you wouldn’t have been so confused, and it wouldn’t have happened. But I fucked up and…I don’t understand. You’re telling me you weren’t raped?”

“My father didn’t rape me. I was raped before I ever made it back here.”

His frown deepens, but then I see the look pass over his face. He’s figured it out.

“You left me unconscious on your sofa and inadvertently served me up on a silver platter to your brother.”

He jumps up and stumbles away, his face paling. He really didn’t know. Oddly enough, something settles inside me at his reaction. For so long, I assumed it was some elaborate plan. He drugged me, either for himself or so his brother could get his hands on me. I thought he was only nice to me that day so he could slip something into my drink. Could he truly be innocent in this? No, innocent isn’t the right word. Even if he hadn’t meant to put me in danger, his reckless actions caused me harm. Looking at him now, the horror in his eyes, I wonder if my level of hate toward the man is justified or if I’m aiming it the wrong way because of all the things that came after.

I don’t know how to navigate the space between him wanting to help me and orchestrating my downfall.

Chapter Nine

“Ihave to go.” He hurries down the steps to his car, pausing as he leans against it to suck in a lungful of air. Dammit if it doesn’t pull at my heartstrings. I don’t know what I was expecting from him. I’ve heard the stories over the years and just assumed a criminal would have no remorse. I forgot to take into account that everyone has a story. Just look at Riggs and me. Plus, in all the rumors swirling around about Austin, I never heard any allegations of sexual assault or rape, and I’msure I would have. Gossiping seems to be a major hobby for most residents of Crowhurst.

I’d heard rumors about Andy, though, when I was in high school. I’d heard girls talking about him getting handsy or how much of a dick he could be, primarily because of the chip on his shoulder. I didn’t hear anything about rape, but I’m not sure how many teenage girls would come forward in this small-minded town, knowing that the victim is usually treated as the one at fault.What were you wearing? Did you lead him on? Were you flirty, or were you drinking? If you said yes, how was he supposed to take the no that came later seriously, especially if you were already half undressed?

I remember hearing a conversation when I was a kid about people choosing to be gay. A woman, upon hearing this, laughed in the person’s face and said, “Trust me, if women could choose to be gay, none of them would ever willingly date a man.”

I didn’t think much of it at the time, because I was too young to understand. There isn’t much of a difference between boys and girls before puberty kicks in. But once we shed that innocence and become women and men, the power shifts. I didn’t see it until I got older, but I often think back to her words, especially after hearing some of the stories from the women I did time with. Victims of domestic violence who finally snapped. Young girls who were trafficked and yet arrested for prostitution. Or in one girl’s case, attacking and killing the man who bought her. She’d been young like me and tried as an adult. She got twenty years for shooting the man who had just raped her because she shot him in the back as he walked away. She shot him eight times, emptying the chamber, and the justice system hung her out to dry for it.