“What’s the matter?” he whispered, concerned.
What should I tell him? Should I tell him anything at all?
“I’m fine,” I went with, mopping up the whipped cream with the towels.
“Rowen—”
“Here’s a paper bag you can toss the glass and dirty towels into,” Rose said, kneeling down beside us.
With Rose in earshot, it was decided. I couldn’t say anything to Jesse.
Once we’d cleaned up the spill, Jesse picked up the bag and took it over to the garbage.
My mom had watched us clean up with a frown on her face. “Just let me know how much Rowen’s damaged this summer, and I’ll write you a check.”
“Other than a couple batches of burnt pancakes, that’s the only thing Rowen’s broken the whole time.” Neil grinned at me as I made my way back to the table. I avoided eye contact with mom’s boyfriend as he introduced himself to Rose and Neil.
I slid into my seat and hunkered down. I even closed my eyes for a few seconds, sure I would open them to discover I’d just been seeing things.
When I finally did open them to find the same man who’d just walked in sitting in the chair across from me, I knew it hadn’t been a hallucination.
“Hello there, Rowen,” the man said, unfolding his napkin and dropping it into his lap. “It sure is wonderful to see you again after all of these years.”
My hands trembled in my lap, and the only emotion I felt was helplessness.
“It’s nice to have you back after all of these years,” Mom said to him, leaning over and giving him a full on-the-lips kiss.
Neil cleared his throat. I wasn’t sure if he could tell I was uncomfortable or if a couple of adults practically making out at his dinner table made him uncomfortable, but at least it made them come up for air.
Jesse was washing his hands at the sink, and I had the worst urge to get up and go to him. To have him wrap me in his arms like he did so well and shelter me.
“Oh, so you all already know each other?” Rose came back to the table with a basket of rolls.
“We’ve got quite a bit of history,” he said. “Rowen, I must say you’ve turned into quite the young woman. When was the last time I saw you?” I couldn’t take the way he leered at me. I couldn’t take the way he smiled at me. I couldn’t take the way Mom gazed at him like he was something to be celebrated. “Thirteen, wasn’t it?” My legs trembled, too, as the string of memories played through my head. “I hope you can support your mom and me this time and not try to come between us.” His eyes changed then. They went dark. Dark like that day in my bedroom when he’d cornered the scared girl I was again. “I’m really hoping we’ll be able to pick up where we left off, Rowen. You and I always had a special kind of relationship.” He winked at me.
I was out of my chair before I knew I would run. In fact, I shoved back so hard in it, the chair toppled to the floor.
“Rowen?” Jesse said, coming toward me.
I was past the point of being calmed. I was long past the point where his presence or his touch could relax me. I had to run.
Run the way I had the last time I’d seen that man staring down at me.
As I rushed out of the kitchen, a few more Rowen!s were called after me. I even made out my mom’s irritated sigh over my mad dash for the front door.
I heard a heavy set of footsteps racing after me, and part of me wanted him to catch up. But another part of me wanted to get as far away from that kitchen as I could.
I’d just made it out the front door and was charging down the porch steps when a hand reached out and grabbed mine. A strong arm held my waist the next moment.
“Jesse, no!” I shouted, struggling against him. “Let me go! Just let me go!”
He pulled my body back into his and his face moved close to mine. “No,” he said, just outside of my ear. “I will not let you go. I’m not going to let you shut me out of this. I’m not allowing you to push me away.”
I slumped against him, sagging into his arms. I couldn’t hold myself up, but Jesse wouldn’t let me fall.
“Now tell me,” he said, almost rocking me back and forth. “What happened in there? What made you run out of there like you were being chased by a demon? What am I missing?”
I shook my head against him. If I told him, I couldn’t try to pretend the whole night had never happened. If I told him, I’d have to accept that my mom had done the unthinkable. And the unforgivable.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice quiet, yet strong in my ear. “Trust me, Rowen. Prove to me you trust me the way I trust you.”
Trust. Trust. What I’d lost, if I’d ever had it, from my own mother. What I’d found in the man holding me in such a way I could feel his love in his touch alone.
I couldn’t show him I didn’t trust him when he needed it most. We were at the place where trust was really made or broken.
“That man’s the one,” I said, my voice wavering. “He’s the one who . . . the one who . . .”
“The one who tried to rape you.” Jesse’s arms still held me to him, but his body started to quiver. Mine did too when he said the word I’d never allowed myself to admit. I didn’t apply the R word to what had happened to me because that was too much reality for me to handle. That was too much messed-up to repress.
It was the truth.
“Yes,” I admitted at last. I admitted to the guy I loved that the man sitting inside his family’s kitchen was the man who’d tried to rape me years ago.