I’d been too stubborn for a lot of years to allow myself to cry about everything that happened. But the memories from that night were still vivid when I talked about them. I could see my sister sneaking into my room after Benny had passed out to do wound care on me. My tears felt cool, running down my warm face.

“My sister taped it closed, but it probably needed a dozen stitches.”

Caine came to kneel at my feet. I leaned my head into him, burying my face in his shoulder to hide my emotions.

“I’m so sorry, Rach. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Once the faucet was open, I couldn’t stop the water from coming. Caine holding me made me feel safe for the first time in a long time—safe to cry. And so I did. I cried and I cried, allowing myself to let it out. I didn’t know where it was all coming from, but the cry turned into an ugly sob—one that had me gasping for breath. Caine sat and held me quietly, stroking my hair and saying he was sorry over and over. When I finally calmed down, I sat up to find him with tears welling in his own eyes.

“I’m sorry for falling apart like that. I’ve never told anyone about that night, except the social worker who took us the next day. I’ve never even said my sister was sexually abused out loud.” I looked Caine in the eyes. “That’s why I lied to you and said my mother never remarried. It’s easier to pretend she never did and those years never happened.”

Caine looked so sad. His voice was full of hesitation. “You went to a social worker the next day, after he did that to you?”

“Actually, she came to us. Benny got into a fight at the garage the next day, so the police came to find us with a social worker.”

“A fight?”

“Yeah. He had a lot of rage. I wish it had happened sooner for my sister’s sake. We were both so afraid to tell anyone. But the social worker knew something wasn’t right when she showed up. Benny was put in the hospital, and we were taken to stay with my aunt. Eventually, my sister told the social worker what was going on, and Benny was arrested while he was still in the hospital. A month later, he died of a heart attack while in custody.” I shrugged. “And life just moved on. Our aunt adopted us, and we never looked back.”

“I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

I half laughed-half sniffled. “Stop saying that. It’s not your fault. I just wanted to explain why I lied because I know you were upset about it. And now I’d like to go back to pretending Benny never existed. Can we do that?”

Caine looked like he was going to argue. His mouth opened to speak, then closed, then opened again. But eventually he nodded.

After a trip to the bathroom to wash the streaked makeup from my face, I felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same about Caine. While unloading and a good cry had lightened my mood, it seemed I’d passed that heaviness to him. We decided to turn on the TV and relax by watching a movie, but each time I glanced over at him, he seemed lost in thought.

When the movie ended, I thought things might return to normal in the bedroom. Although when I mentioned being tired and ready to go to bed, Caine surprised me by saying he needed to sleep at his own place because he had an early meeting.

That unsettled feeling I’d had was back as I walked him to the door. “Are we okay, Caine?” I hated to ask, hated to sound needy, but I’d already had two sleepless nights and knew I would be up again if he left without us talking.

Caine cupped my cheeks. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Never forget that, Rachel.” He brushed his lips with mine and said goodnight.

I leaned my head against the closed door after he was gone. While the sentiment was sweet, especially given everything we’d talked about, why did it feel like Caine was saying goodbye?

Caine

I didn’t have the heart to tell her after she’d broken down—at least that’s what I told myself. I was keeping it from her for her own good, not because I was a selfish prick with no balls.

But after a week of being half in and half out, I realized I was doing the same thing to her that I’d done when she was a kid—stringing her along, week by week, and not taking any action because I was unsure of myself.

Only back then I was a confused teenage boy, and now I was supposed to be a man. I sure as hell wasn’t acting like much of one. I’d avoided Rachel almost every night this week, except in class when I had no choice but to face her. She knew something was off.

“What’s going on with you?” my sister asked as she took my plate. She’d had another doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so I’d been babysitting. Evelyn must’ve been pretty desperate to use me again, considering I almost killed one of her kids last time.

“Nothing much.”

She went into the kitchen and put my plate in the sink before returning for her interrogation. “Bullshit. I can tell when something’s wrong.”

“How?”

My sister leveled me with a stare. “For starters, you’re still here. Normally when I ask you to babysit, you dart out the door the minute I get back, as if having a family is contagious or something.”

I guess she had a point. I tried to play it off as nothing. “I was hungry, that’s all.” I shrugged.

She scrutinized me. “Where’s the woman you had here with you last time? The girls talked about her for a week. Rachel, wasn’t it?”

“How would I know?”

“Don’t give me that crap. Your face changed as soon as I said her name.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Really?” She leaned in. “Rachel.” Her voice grew louder. “Rachel. Rachel. Rachel.”

“I think you should add a shrink to that list of doctors you’re visiting.” I stood and began to clear the rest of the table to put some space between the bulldog and me.

My nieces had already disappeared with a box of elbow macaroni and Elmer’s glue, and they were unusually quiet as they stuck food to construction paper in the living room. Where were the little motor-mouths when you needed them to interrupt a conversation?

My sister and I cleaned up from dinner, and surprisingly, she was quiet. I should have realized she was busy reloading.

Pushing the dishwasher closed, she turned and leaned against it, cornering me in the kitchen as I put away the last of the plates.