Rain 01 When It Rains (38 page)

“What guy?” I ask, my chest rising and falling more with every passing second. Why does he do this to me?

“The guy who isn’t good enough and would always come second. For some reason, I thought we had it. I fucking felt it, but when it came down to it, I was wrong.” He pauses, letting his eyes catch mine for the first time. “When you told me you weren’t ready for us, it almost killed me, but I thought it just wasn’t our time, that you needed your space.”

“Beau—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupts, shifting so that his whole body is facing me. “There was hope for us. When I looked at you, I didn’t see the girl I wanted to share my first kiss with, I saw the girl I wanted to share every kiss with. It might sound stupid, but I saw forever in us, Kate. The morning I saw you in the car with Asher, I felt like someone was fucking stabbing me. I never want to feel that way again.”

Ironic, since it feels like he’s the one choking me right now. Guilt is an all-consuming reaction to things we regret. While I know without a doubt that I wasn’t ready for Beau then, I never wanted to hurt him.

“I’m sorry. I hope I can explain it all someday. I know it won’t make it all right, but maybe you’ll understand. I never ever wanted to hurt you. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“I think I knew that,” he says.

I stare back at the sky, identifying constellations to keep my mind busy. I’m glad we had this opportunity to talk and shorten the space between us, but it’s also drudging up some things I haven’t thought about in a long time.

“Are you home for the whole summer?” I ask.

He lets go of my hand and sits up, rubbing his hand along his forehead. “Yeah, I’m going to work with my dad.”

I nod, focusing my eyes on his broad, toned back.

“I better get to bed. I have to work tomorrow,” he says, sliding off the edge of the trampoline.

“Beau.”

He stops but doesn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“Can we hang out this summer? Like we used to?”

“I don’t know,” he says, walking away.

Maybe I should have stopped him . . . but I didn’t.

 “I’m glad you decided to come in today. How have you been?” Dr. Karcher asks as she rests her clipboard on her lap.

I came once a couple years ago at my mom’s urging, but I left without saying much more than my name. I wasn’t ready, but then one of Asher’s napkin notes pushed me here. I’d held it in my hand, reading it over and over for days before finally deciding to come. Even now, I roll the paper between my fingers, reciting the words in my head.

He’s right. I’ve missed out on so many things, and that stops now. Drew is no longer going to be my reason for making any decisions. This is my life, and I’m taking control back.

I still haven’t decided how much I want to tell her. I’ve been here a few other times, but I always close up and end up having to leave early.

She can’t turn back time and completely erase the rape.

She can’t bring Asher back.

How is she supposed to fix me?

“I’m just taking it one day at a time right now,” I reply, trying to get comfortable in my chair.

“What’s a normal day like for you?”

I glance at the ceiling, trying to configure what a day is really like. I live it without thinking about it much. “I go to work most mornings. And when I get off after lunch, I usually go for a run. The rest of my day is spent reading or watching TV with my mom when she’s home.”

“How is your relationship with your mom?” She leans in closer, tapping her pen against her chin.

“It’s better than it was. She works a lot, and for a while we just weren’t communicating like we should. We’re working on that.”

“Has your relationship always been a challenge?” What do any of these questions have to do with why I’m here?

“No, I started to pull away when I was sixteen,” I answer.

“And why was that do you think?”

“I think it was a combination of growing up and pulling away. I pulled away from almost everyone,” I admit, resting my elbow against the side of the chair. I don’t know if the chair is uncomfortable, or if it’s just being here that makes it feel that way.

“What caused you to pull away?” she asks, tilting her head. Dr. Karcher has an interesting look about her with frizzy brown curls and glasses that are slightly too large for her narrow frame.

I focus my eyes on the diplomas that hang on the wall. There are at least six of them, but they don’t impress me. It’s all just paper to me until I see something come out of this.

“Something happened a few years ago, and I just couldn’t find a way to deal with it.” I stop, lifting my legs up in the chair so that I can wrap my arms around them. “Why should anyone else have to deal with them?”

“And when you think about it now, how do you feel?”

This I have to think about before answering. It’s definitely less painful to think about than it once was, but it still affects so much of my life. It holds me back and threatens me.

“It still hurts. It will always hurt, but the ache gets easier to deal with as the days pass.”

“And what are you doing to deal with it?”

“Trying to face some of my fears head on,” I answer honestly.

“Let’s talk about that . . .”

For an hour, we go back and forth, playing a game of tug of war with our words. I tell her about my childhood. I tell her about growing up without a dad when everyone else around me had one. I tell her about Beau and how close we were growing up. And when we get to the point where she asks me why it all changed, I have to make a decision. Am I going to tell her why things are so different for me now, or is that something I should save for another time?

“Why aren’t you and Beau as close as you used to be?” she asks, leaning forward in her chair.

I tuck my hands between my knees and lock my eyes on the bookcase on the right side of the room. I know she’s not going to tell anyone, but she’s still very much a stranger to me. Something about it just doesn’t feel right yet. “Kate, your secrets are safe with me. Let me help you,” she says quietly, twirling her watch on her wrist.

“How much time do we have?” I ask nervously. Maybe our session is almost done, and I can just leave and decide what I want to do later . . . if I actually decide to come back.

“You’re my last appointment today. Take as much time as you need.”

Another fork in my road . . . another moment where a decision can change everything.

So I talk. I tell her about the night my life changed, and when I call myself naïve, she stops me and tells me it wasn’t my fault. I know that’s true, but I also know I could have changed the way things ended that night by not going into that house and not trusting Drew.

“Do you ever think you’ve overcompensated? Are you pushing everything and everyone away because of this one twisted guy?”

I shrug. “Sometimes. I pushed Beau away, and he’s the nicest, most honest person I know. I didn’t feel normal and couldn’t grasp why anyone would want to hang out with me.”

“Have you ever loved someone who’s changed? Did you still love them after?” After thinking about it, I realize most people in my life have changed. We all change.

“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling the tears building in my eyes.

“Why would Beau be any different?”

“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was all me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t think I deserve him anymore,” I cry, puncturing my own heart by saying the words.

“And what happened to make you feel that way?” she asks, setting her notebook on the small table in front of her. My whole body aches as I relive the moment that changed my life.

“I was raped,” I sob, curling my legs into my body.

“How was that your fault?”

I cover my face with my hands and rest my elbows on my knees. This is draining me completely.

“Kate, you can talk to me,” she whispers, running her hand up and down my back.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve it! Okay? I was there because my friends were there. I just wanted to talk and have a good time.” I run my sleeve across my eyes. “He tricked me. He robbed me.”

“And why would Beau think any less of you?”

I internalize her words, and when I’m done, it’s a slap in the face. I was wrong. I’ve been wrong for almost three years, and it’s time to fix it.

Beau

“C
AN
WE
TALK
?”
Kate asks.

The last thing I expected today was to have her knocking on my door. But she did, and now she’s standing right in front of me, looking up at me with those big green eyes I love so fucking much. Every time I look at her, I’m reminded of why this girl owns my fucking heart and why I can’t get her out of my head.

After I left for college, I tried to tear my heart away from her. It’s been almost a year, but I haven’t been able to let her go. Not with how deep she’s twisted inside of me. I’ve tried, Lord knows I’ve tried, but I don’t think I can ever get her completely out of my head. I love her.

“Do you want to come in?” I ask, looking past her to the quiet street we’ve lived on for almost fifteen years.

She eyes me nervously, biting her lower lip. It drives me crazy every time she does that. “Actually, I was hoping we could go out to the lake,” she pauses, clasping her fingers in front of her. “We haven’t gone there at all this summer.”

I hesitate because every time we’ve gone to the lake it has ended badly. I don’t know what it is, but that place no longer holds the good memories it did when we were younger. The last time we were there, I laid my whole heart out for her, and I’m pretty sure it’s still there, buried in the sand. “I should stay home and work on packing my stuff. I leave for school again in a few days.”

“You’re leaving already? School doesn’t start for weeks,” she blurts, sadness lining her eyes.

“Yeah, I got an apartment with a couple other guys. They’re letting us move in August first because it’s been empty all summer.”

“Oh,” she says, looking down at the ground. “I’ll let you pack then. I just thought that maybe
—
”