“Don’t ever say that, Elizabeth,” she said sharply. “You were such a good kid, and I knew I didn’t have to be on top of you all the time. It’s not my fault it happened on a weekend I was gone. And then you changed, keeping to yourself, never calling anyone, never going out, acting like you hated me …” Her hands fluttered around. “I—I know I’m not the PTA mom or the one who spent money on you—because I didn’t have any—but I did the best I could.” She pulled out her Marlboro’s and lit one.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “What happened with Karl and the Senator?”

She sucked her cig. “Karl called his office for several days until he finally got through to his personal assistant, but she wouldn’t allow Karl to speak directly to him. He put a bug in her ear that it was about his son. That did the trick. He called us back the next day and Karl said his spiel. He asked for fifty thousand or we’d sell your story to the press.”

God, their stupidity made me sick. Nausea rolled. I jerked up and got a glass of water.

She sucked on the cigarette, the butt burning a bright red. “The next day, the IRS showed up at Karl’s car lot and closed it down, claiming he owed back taxes—which might be true, I don’t know—but he had to close his shop and he can’t open it until the IRS finishes their investigation, which might take months. They confiscated all his files and froze his money. He’s convinced the Senator sent them. His whole life has been that car lot and if he doesn’t have that, then, well, he’s broke.”

She continued. “Karl called a reporter with the Raleigh Herald and said he had a story about Senator Scott’s son and a girl he raped. They agreed to see him and pay him for the story, but once he got there, they had a team of lawyers waiting with all these papers and wouldn’t listen to a thing Karl said because they needed a firsthand account of the attack—and a police report.”

I sat back down. “They’re a reputable newspaper. They can’t print hearsay.”

She nodded. “That’s why Karl’s angry and upset. Well, that and the car lot—obviously.”

“So he hit you ?”

“It’d all be fine if you’d just tell your whole story how you let that boy rape you.”

“I didn’t let him,” my voice cracked.

She barely noticed. “I want Karl back,” she said glumly.

I stood up, my chair scrapping across the tile. “God, for once in your life, do the right thing and forget him,” I snapped. “Stop ruining my life to get what you want!”

Her lips tightened. “I don’t want a lecture from you right now.” She sighed, looking exhausted. “Now, if you have a place for me to sleep, that would be great. That is unless you don’t want me here and I’ll just leave …”

I stopped and stared at her. Part of me wanted her to leave, but I just couldn’t kick her out. She was my mother.

“There’s an extra bedroom across the hall from mine. It’s not much, just a twin bed.”

She nodded and headed down the hall, but then turned around. “I’m sorry to bring all this to you, baby, but—just keep an open mind about Karl.”

“Just get some sleep, Mom. We’ll talk later.”

But we didn’t talk later.

A few hours later I went out to the grocery to stock up on things she’d like, mostly chips and pizza and soda and cigarettes, and by the time I’d returned it was dark. I walked into an empty apartment where she’d left me a hastily scribbled note on the kitchen table.

Karl picked me up. He found a newspaper in New York to take the story. I’m sorry.

Love, Candi

I sank down on a chair in the kitchen, groceries forgotten as fear crept into my heart. I battled with tears of frustration, my hands clenched around the note. No matter how hard I tried to push the shadow of that awful night away, it continued to haunt me.

SUNDAY WENT BY, and I kept waiting for Declan to confront me about our convo at Minnie’s, but he didn’t. I’d knocked on his door a few times, but he was never there. I pictured him in some seedy boxing ring getting pounded into a pulp. Then my imagination would switch to him kissing Nadia. God.

Was he angry with me for the way I’d left things between us? No doubt.

But why hadn’t he knocked on my door? I didn’t know.

I’d replayed our night at the gym over and over in my head. My body longed for more of him, and it frustrated me. There were absolutely no repeats in my sex life.