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  “I lunged at him and slammed my fist into his jaw. I had him by the neck until Olson intervened. My father threatened to ruin you unless I kept out of his business. Unless I stopped digging into the past.” Her sobbing is louder, and I look around the room for something that will suffice as a tissue. There’s nothing.

  I take the corner of my shirt and wipe her face. “Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry about everything. It’s not enough—nowhere near enough, but it’s all I have for you right now.” I sigh loudly. “But he will pay. I promise you, he will pay for all of it.”

  I pull Gabrielle into my lap, and she immediately starts to squirm off, but I don’t let her. “Let me hold you. Please let me hold you while we figure this out.” To my amazement she does. She settles into me, never fully relaxing, but she stays put. At least for the time being.

  “I want to know about Jane,” she says between hiccups. “I want to know if there were others.”

  Suck it up, JD. She has a right to know about all of them. “It wasn’t just Jane.” Her body stiffens, but I’ve gotten this far so I keep going. “I must have fucked a dozen girls for the camera. I wanted him to see that you were nothing to me, just one more in a long line. When really, you were everything.”

  “You had sex with girls on camera. Did you trick them into doing it?” The disgust in her voice is palpable.

  I shake my head. “No. Every single girl knew about the camera, and knew someone might see the tape. I chose girls I knew wouldn’t care.”

  “Because they wanted your attention. Because they would have agreed to anything if it meant there was even the slightest possibility they might become JD Wilder’s girlfriend.”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. We both know that’s how it’s always been. The girls, and later the women, who didn’t give a shit about me. They didn’t even know me. They just cared about what I represented. What I could give them.

  Over the years, I sometimes let myself believe that Gabrielle and I had something so special that she would eventually forgive me. But today, hearing the words out loud—no one would ever forgive this. There’s not a fucking thing in the world special enough to overcome something so appalling.

  I hear a small broken cry from near my chest. I don’t know if it comes from Gabrielle or from somewhere deep inside of me.

  “So you had me sent away.”

  She says it so simply, as though it was easy. As though it didn’t rip my soul to shreds. “Had to. There was no way I was going to give him the opportunity to lay a finger on you. I couldn’t do that to you.” Or maybe you couldn’t do that to yourself, JD. Maybe you were protecting yourself. Your fragile teenage ego. I shove the thought away. “I went to your father and told him—”

  She sits up abruptly and pulls away from me. “You told my father what we were doing? That DW taped us kinking it up?”

  “No.” I run my palm up and down her back. “I told him I was afraid for you. That my father wanted to control me and that he knew how much I cared about you. That he threatened to hurt you, and that I was terrified he’d make good on those threats. I offered him money to help them get started somewhere else, in another part of the country far away from Charleston. But they had your grandmother to think about too. She was too old and her dementia too advanced. They didn’t think she’d survive the move. And at first, they didn’t fully grasp the danger you were in because I spared them the ugliest details. While they were still figuring things out, it occurred to me that I could pay for boarding school up north. I had complete access to my trust fund at that point. But the prospect of sending you away was gut-wrenching—for all of us.

  “Your mother cried, but nothing compared to your father. He was so ashamed that he couldn’t protect you. And he didn’t know the worst of it. My only request to them was that you were never to step foot on the property again.” She gasps. It’s a twisted painful sound. I feel it in my chest.

  “I didn’t spend much time at Wildwood after that, either. I wouldn’t have spent any time there at all, but for my brothers.” There’s no way I could turn my back on them. They had no one else.

  “The Cornell scholarship was all you. I threw in some extra money so you wouldn’t need to get a job. So you could devote all your energy to studying and learning about the hotel business. And fun. I wanted you to have fun, without worrying about money. It was the one thing I could do for you. The internships, the rest was all you. I didn’t have a damn thing to do with your success.”

  “The hotel,” she says. “The low interest loan. It’s connected to what happened before. Your father greased the wheels for me so that I would come back and he could use me to hurt you.”

  “It feels that way to me.”

  “You wanted to protect me. That’s why you came back on election night.”

  I nod. “During the campaign, I had access to Wilder Holdings and was able to dig around for information about the accident. After the election, I would have access to everything at Sayle too. The missing pieces are hidden there, somewhere. I know they are. I need to avenge their deaths—he needs to pay for what he did to Zack. I promised them I would make him pay. I promised myself. And I thought I could protect you while I searched. If I kept you close. But I was wrong.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me this?” Betrayal is all over her face. It’s the flicker of pain in her eyes, the severe line of her pursed lips, the crinkle of her brow—nothing I say or do now can make up for the duplicity. But I did what I had to do. I’ll live with the consequences. I’ve already lived with them for almost half my life.

  “I thought about it. Thought about it all the way to the hotel that night. But I wasn’t sure you’d believe me. And I worried you’d be in even greater danger if you knew everything. I still believe that. Telling you might give you the answers you want, but it makes you a bigger target. We’ll need to be more careful now than ever.”

  “How do my parents, my mother’s illness, fit into this?”

  “Their misfortune fell into my lap. It gave me some leverage over you. I had already decided the best way to control you was through sex.” Her body is rigid now. “I’d done it before, and I could do it again. Only this time, I would be doing it with purpose. My manipulation, not my father’s.”

  “Is that what you think? That you controlled me with sex when we were teenagers?”

  “I dragged you into something that we were both way too young to be doing. Something that would leave a mark, and impact how you experienced sex for the rest of your life. You were addicted to me. To what we did. It was like a spell.”

  She pulls back and glares at me. “God. Your ego is so enormous,” she snarls. “I’m surprised you can walk through a normal-sized doorway. You did not control me. You did not take me anywhere I didn’t want to go. Not back then. And not now.”

  “Don’t be naïve.”

  “Don’t treat me like a child. I was always curious about sex. My fantasies were dark before I snuck away to meet you in the stable. Before I was even ten, I’d think about the horses mating when I touched myself at night. I sometimes thought about what it would be like to have a horse rear up over me,” she whispers softly. “I might have gone into the dark with you, but only because I already loved it there. And don’t you dare make it seem like something ugly and evil. I’m not ashamed of anything we did, not then and not now. I enjoyed it. I still do. And I will not allow you to shame me for it.”

  My mind is racing to keep up with her. This isn’t what I expected from her. She’ll feel differently when she has some time to process everything. “I don’t mean to shame you. I’m the one who should be ashamed. Not you.”

  “You’re still doing it. It’s like you didn’t hear a damn thing I said. If you want to be ashamed of something, be ashamed of how you lied and manipulated. Were you ever going to tell me any of this? What would you have done if I told you to go to hell that night in the hotel?”

  “If I had my way, you would have never heard about any o
f this. Losing you was a price I was willing to pay to keep you safe and in the dark. To protect you from that monster. I’m still willing to pay any price for your safety.”

  “Any price.” She repeats my words carefully.

  “I’d like to think I’m man enough to do whatever is necessary to protect you.”

  “To lie to me, manipulate me, to rape me, anything necessary to protect me as though the end justifies the means.”

  She looks at me, searching my face, waiting for me to say something to put her mind at ease. Something that assures her there is a bottom line—a line even I wouldn’t cross. There isn’t. I don’t respond.

  “I realize I begged you for answers. But I need a break—some time to wrap my head around everything you just told me. Please leave me alone while I do that.”

  I nod, and she gets up and rushes to the door without another word. “Gabrielle.” She doesn’t turn to look at me. “There hasn’t been a day since my father showed me those tapes that I haven’t been sorry I dragged you into the mess of my life. Not a single day.”

  She swivels to face me. “As sick as it is that your father watched us having sex, as much as I want to vomit thinking about it, I don’t give a damn about those recordings. It’s all the rest, JD. All the rest that makes my heart ache and makes me so mad I want to take my fists to you. You think about me, even as an adult, like I’m just something you can manipulate and lie to on a whim. Like I’m not a woman who deserves your respect or who can be trusted to manage life’s problems—to handle a difficult truth. That’s where the real pain comes from.”

  “Those tapes would have destroyed you.”

  “When I was seventeen, that might have been true. But not now. I’m an adult. Stronger than either you or my mother and father give me credit for. I can survive pornographic tapes. Although it doesn’t seem like you, or my parents, believe that.” She pauses for a breath. “Smith offered to let me stay at his place. I’m leaving tonight.”

  “You’re going to move in with a man you barely know?”

  “Really, JD? After all this, that’s what you have to say for yourself? I might not know Smith very well, but he respects me enough to be honest with me. That’s more than I’d get if I stayed here.”

  13

  Gabrielle

  I go upstairs to the guestroom that Patrick and Lally made up. They went to a lot of trouble for me. More than they should have. A part of me wishes Lally were here to talk to, although I’m not sure what I’d say to her. I can’t stay here, that is something I’m sure about.

  I spend much too much time deciding whether to call Smith or text him, to take him up on the offer to stay at his house. I decide to text.

  Me: Is there still a room for me at your place?

  Smith: Absofuckinglutely

  I release the breath I’ve been holding and smile at the text with a huge sense of relief. He’s going to make this easy for me.

  Smith: When you coming?

  Me: Tonight. If it’s ok.

  Smith: More than ok. I’m not home until late. I’ll tell Rafe and Gus.

  Smith: Give me 10 minutes. Then call them. They’ll help you move.

  Help me move? Everything I own can fit into a couple grocery bags with room to spare.

  Me: Thank you. So much, thank you.

  Smith: Make yourself at home. Don’t wait up.

  I neatly pack three pairs of underwear and a bra into one bag, and toss in a few toiletries from the bathroom. It feels like stealing, but I know JD won’t care what I take.

  I ask Gus and Rafe to come over at seven-fifteen. JD will be with Zack, and I won’t risk running into him when I leave. Sure, it’s cowardly, but I don’t want to see him for at least a few days. There’s too much to process, too much to think about, and his face, his scent, his voice, everything about him—is too much for me to handle right now. I need to come to terms with everything he told me, and with the fire, and Georgie’s death, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life now. I need to do it free from his influence. It has to be that way because I can’t think straight when he’s around.

  The phone Smith let me borrow pings and I pick it up. Speak of the devil.

  JD: I’m leaving in 5 minutes. Be gone all afternoon. You should eat something.

  He’s leaving the house, his house, so that I’m not a prisoner in my room. So that I’ll go to the kitchen and eat. Oh, JD. You are so complicated, and yet so predictable. Your concern for me, your love, often emerges in twisted misshapen forms, shrouded by darkness, but there is always light at the center. It’s what has always drawn me to you. Like a moth to a flame. And that is precisely why I need to make my decisions away from you.

  I stare at the phone. I should answer his text. I owe him the kindness. No, I don’t owe it to him, I want to show him the kindness. He’s hurting too.

  Me: I will. Don’t worry.

  It’s only a few words, but it’s me squeezing his fingers in the only way I can right now.

  JD: Will you still be here when I get back?

  This was the risk of answering his text—there’d be more.

  Me: No. Give me a few days to think.

  It hurts me to send JD that text. It hurts me because I know it will hurt him.

  I call Rafe and ask him to take me to Smith’s in half an hour. I don’t want to wait until this evening—because I might change my mind.

  * * *

  Gus and Rafe walk me inside Smith’s house. It’s immaculate and cheery, with exposed wooden beams that make it feel decidedly masculine. Rafe carries my bags, while Gus plays tour guide, explaining the alarm system in excruciating detail, and showing me to my new bedroom and bath. When there’s nothing left to tell me, they stand around looking at their feet until I tell them it’s okay to leave.

  “We’ll ring the bell periodically to check on you. But we’re always lurking, if you need anything,” Gus says. “You’re safe here.”

  “We’re ordering pizza and sandwiches from Drisco’s for dinner later. You want something?”

  I shake my head. “No, thanks. I ate a little while ago.”

  “Not even some of that chicken and rice soup he makes? The lemon one?”

  I don’t want soup, but they’re trying so hard. “Actually, soup sounds great. Thanks.”

  “I’m going to set the alarm,” Gus says. “Lock the door behind us.”

  * * *

  Gus and Rafe bring the food by at about seven, and they make themselves at home in the kitchen. They set up dinner at the table. Sharing a meal feels odd, yet right. The fire did something to our relationship. It feels deeper now, more familiar. Or maybe they just feel such pity for me that it bleeds everywhere.

  I glance at the clock, it’s seven-thirty. JD’s with Zack.

  After they leave, I brush my teeth and crawl into bed. I don’t have anything to read, so I just lie here and take stock of my life. I made two decisions today. One, to move out of the main house at Sweetgrass to give myself time and space to heal away from JD. The second was to visit my parents tomorrow. Patrick arranged it, like he has in the past.

  I want to see them, and I want them to see me—to know that I’m fine. Fine. It’s comical. I couldn’t be any further from fine. But I will get there. I will. Part of getting fine is to talk to my parents. JD told me his side of the story. I want to hear their side. Then I’ll come back for—Georgie’s funeral.

  I fight back the tears, until I can’t. Until I decide it doesn’t matter if I cry because no one’s listening. I do need to stop blubbering at the drop of a hat, but not tonight. Tonight, I let myself cry. Tonight, I cry for JD, for the young teenager who discovered his father is evil. I cry for the nineteen-year-old boy who struggled to protect his girlfriend from a monster. I cry for the man who carries guilt and responsibility heavier than any human being should have to bear. I cry for Julian and Elle. And for JD and Gabrielle. I cry until I’m asleep.

  * * *

  During every minute of the pl
ane ride to visit my parents, I think about JD. What it must have been like for him to be in his father’s office watching the tapes, DW threatening to rape me. Believing his father killed his mother and Sera. Destroyed Zack’s life. All of it, always in the back of his mind, torturing him.

  I hate DW. Hate him more than anything I can describe with words. I hate him more than anything I have ever hated in my life. I didn’t even know my heart was capable of so much hate. And it’s not the recordings. Sure, that’s part of it. I would be humiliated if they were ever made public, but I’ve been through so much now that a little embarrassment is nothing. Perspective. That’s what it’s called.

  More than anything, I hate him for what he took from me. From me and JD. He stole years from us, splashed oily grime on every memory, twisted our teenage love into something grotesque and vulgar. I can’t do anything about the years he took. Those are gone. But I will take back my memories. And JD’s. I’ll care for them and love them until they’re pristine again. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I will.

  * * *

  Even with all the worrying about me, my mother looks great. It’s been almost three months since she started treatment. She’s almost at the halfway mark, and it’s working. It’s working.

  I don’t bring up JD until after lunch. Until after my mother and I have cried rivers about Georgie and the baby, and about the hotel. My parents don’t raise the possibility of arson, and I don’t burden them with it. When we’re all settled into the spacious living room at their hotel, I begin, without pretense or niceties. I don’t ease us in gently. I jump right into the deep end and drag them in with me.

  “JD told me about why I had to go away to boarding school.”

  My mother grimaces and grips the arm of the sofa, but it’s my father whose features contort. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says getting up, and turning on the television.