There. I’d said everything I was thinking.
She didn’t reply right away. I was preparing myself for some smart comment, but it didn’t come. Instead she stared out the window toward her house. I waited for her to either try and leave again or say something.
“I’ve told the story so many times I’m sick of telling it. No one believed me but my parents and the police. And then the Lawtons got in the officer’s ear, and he turned on me too. I was young and terrified of sex. Why would I lie about it? That’s what I never understood,” she said before turning to look back at me.
“You know the story, Brady. You heard it two years ago like everyone else. It hasn’t changed. But I have. I’m not naïve anymore. I grew up.”
I believed her. Every word. The pain in her eyes was clear even with nothing but the streetlight illuminating her face. The guilt inside me grew, and I wanted to hug her or apologize or do something, but she wouldn’t accept it.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said.
She gave me a small half smile that tilted up one corner of her mouth. “Yeah, well, you’re the only one.”
And she was right. I was the only one. The others would believe Rhett forever. It made me sick to think about how power and popularity could ruin others’ lives.
“If I could convince them, I would,” I told her honestly.
She laughed again and shook her head. “If anyone else said that, I wouldn’t believe them. But you’ve always been the hero. Continue on with your crown of sainthood and go about your life. I made it through hell and was rewarded with that little girl sleeping in there. She’s all I need.”
When she reached for the door this time, I didn’t ask her to stop. My question had been answered. My guilt wasn’t relieved, and I knew it never would be. Just like she would never forget the pain this town put her through.
“If you ever need a friend, I’m here,” I told her as she stepped out of the truck.
She didn’t laugh this time, but I could see a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure you are, Brady. But I’m not a charity case. I’m strong, and I don’t need anyone.”
As she walked back to the house, I watched until she was safely inside before I started my truck. Tonight I hadn’t made myself feel better, and I realized that was exactly why I had come here to begin with. I had wanted to ease my mind.
It had done the opposite.
I was more weighed down than before. Riley was a good person. Life had been unfair to her. This town had been unfair to her. She’d been raped by an older guy, then ridiculed when she needed support. I had been one of those who turned on her. I couldn’t change the past, but I was going to change the future.
Riley Young was going to be my friend. I wasn’t sure how I would make this happen, because she obviously didn’t like me. Hell, I doubted she had even an ounce of respect for me. But I would make it my mission to earn her friendship just like I had earned her hate. The girl we had all turned against hadn’t crumbled. She had found a strength inside herself and survived. I admired that. I wanted to believe I was that strong. But if I was faced with a real crisis in my life, would I be able to overcome it like she had? I didn’t want to doubt it, but I did.
Human Nature Isn’t Always Pretty
CHAPTER 9
RILEY
Mom was smiling at me when I walked back into the house. She thought she had achieved something. All she’d achieved was Brady getting to ease some guilt. I’d probably never see him again unless it was in passing when I was walking Bryony to the park. He had his answers. He believed me. But it meant nothing to me.
“Well,” Mom said as she stared at me.
“I’m sure Brady will get a good night’s sleep tonight. His football career is safe. Sir Lancelot can continue on his merry way, bringing joy to all,” I replied with a fake cheer in my voice.
Mom’s smile fell into a frown. “Honestly, Riley, that’s not a healthy attitude. It took a lot of nerve for him to come here and talk to you. He’s the first one of your friends to believe you. That says a lot.”
I stopped walking toward the hallway and turned back around. “My friends? Are you serious, Mom? They aren’t my friends. They were never my friends. Friends don’t turn on you like that. I have never had real friends. Ever.”
“Honey, y’all were young,” she started, and I held up my hand to stop her.
“No. Do not say that. We weren’t that young. We were going into the tenth grade. They all called me a liar. All of them. When I was hurt and terrified, they turned on me. All I had was you and Dad. I do not have friends. I never have,” I repeated.