Breaking the Silence (20 page)

“Back to bed,” he ordered and began pulling the covers back.

“No.” Jenny crossed her arms over the towel and stared stubbornly back at him. “I’ve been sleeping for days. I want to stay up.”

Will eyed her for a second and then nodded. “I’ll take Rosie out while you dress.”

Rosie, who had been hovering hopefully during the hair combing, gave an excited yip at her name. She galloped out into the hallway and Jenny could hear her thundering down the stairs.

Jenny grinned at Will. “Guess she’s ready to go out. Thanks for taking care of her, by the way.”

He shrugged off her thanks. “I like it, actually. It’s nice having her around.”

“Ah,” Jenny said, her smile turning a bit wry. “More than you can say about me, I’m sure.”

“No.” Will touched the top of her head lightly before heading for the door. “It’s
very
nice having you around.”

Will was driving her crazy.

So sweet, so thoughtful, so…there. Constantly there. He even hovered outside the door while she was in the bathroom, just in case she needed help. The first week at his house, she had liked his persistent presence, how safe it made her feel. He had helped push her thoughts away, distracted her brain from the frightening playbacks of the attack. Every day she adored him more and more—but she needed a break.

Once the snow had been cleared her mother had also been coming each day, so Jenny had two people watching every move she made, examining her face for any sign of pain or exhaustion or a mental breakdown. On Friday, almost two weeks after the attack, Jenny had finally convinced Pearl that she was going to be
fine
, that she wasn’t going to fall apart and she didn’t need two babysitters following her around.

Her mom finally agreed to stay in Rochester, although she made Jenny swear that she would call if she needed her for any reason. Jenny would have promised anything at that point, her nerves rubbed raw by the constant presence of other people. She was relieved that her sisters had only called
—
if they had descended on her as well, Jenny didn’t know what she would have done.

Jenny desperately needed alone time. After being gone from work for nearly two weeks, she was planning to go back to the office on Monday. She needed to organize her thoughts, clear her head, prepare her responses to her well-meaning but rabidly curious coworkers. She still hadn’t processed how she felt about sex with Will, about men in general, about what had happened with Evan. About the fact that he was actually
dead
. There would be no clear thinking, she knew, with an overprotective bear of a man lurking close by.

“I’m going to take Rosie for a walk,” Jenny announced at breakfast on Saturday morning.

Will nodded. They had been walking Rosie together almost every morning, stretching the distance a little more each day as Jenny’s sore muscles eased and her bruises faded. Pushing away from the table, he started to stand.

“Where are you going?” Jenny asked him. She knew her tone was surly but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to go
alone
, damn it!

Saying nothing, Will watched her warily.

Fine
, she thought.
If he wants me to say it straight out, I will.
“I’m taking Rosie by myself. I need some time alone to think.”

“No.”

“No?” Jenny was practically snarling now. “I don’t remember asking you if it would be okay.”

“It’s not safe.”

For some reason, Will’s rational tone was making her even more furious. Jenny could feel the anger bubbling up in her, burning the back of her throat. “I have walked that path hundreds of times,” she gritted out, trying to match reason with reason. “I have Rosie. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll walk behind you,” Will said evenly. “I’ll stay back.”

Staring at the coffee mug gripped in her fingers, Jenny noticed that her knuckles were stark white. Her fury deepened, building pressure against her skull until all she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears.

“All I want to do,” she said, “is to take my fucking dog on a fucking walk by my-fucking-self!” Jenny heard a crash, saw coffee running in transparent brown rivulets down the wall and she realized that she had thrown the mug.

She looked at her hands, startled, as if they belonged to someone else. Jenny pulled her feet onto the seat of her chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. She rested her cheek on her knee, her face turned away from Will.

“God,” she said in a shaky voice, all her anger gone. “What am I doing? I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“I know how you feel,” Will said and she turned her head to look at him accusingly, another spurt of anger surging through her.

“How?” Jenny demanded. “How can you know? You don’t know what it’s like to be held down, totally powerless, as if your strength is nothing! I was like a helpless doll and he did whatever the fuck he wanted to me. How can
you
,” she gestured wildly at his muscular body, “know how that feels?”

Will’s face went completely blank, his eyes empty. All animation was gone from his expression and his stillness made her stomach cold. She wrapped her arms around her knees again, watching him carefully.

“I—” He broke off, his jaw clamped shut, and he turned away from her. Jenny’s eyes followed his back as he walked to the basement door and opened it with measured care. Will closed the door behind him with a soft click.

The small noise released Jenny’s paralysis and her forehead lowered to her knees, bumping against the bruise that still lingered in greens and yellows.

“Shit,” she said, defeated.

Twenty minutes later, Jenny stood, unmoving, in front of the basement door.

“Chicken,” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and opened the door with a defiant yank, nearly pulling herself off balance when it opened easily. Jenny clunked down the stairs, purposefully making noise so she didn’t startle Will. She paused when she neared the bottom.

“Wow,” she breathed, looking around. “This is great!” Jenny knew that he worked out in his basement but she hadn’t expected it to be so…elaborate. Will had transformed the space into a well-equipped gym, complete with treadmill, free-weights, a heavy bag dangling on chains from the ceiling, mats and other things that Jenny didn’t have the slightest clue what they were used for. Will was sitting on a weight bench, sweat running down the sides of his face and making wet blotches on his t-shirt. He swiped his forehead against his upper arm, not looking at her.

Jenny stepped down the last few stairs and walked over to him. She stopped uncertainly a few feet away, chewing her lower lip. “Will, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, flinging a few droplets of sweat. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything.” He still didn’t meet her eyes.

Jenny inched a little closer. “Besides be a raging bitch, you mean?”

Will just shook his head again.

“The thing is—I didn’t even
want
to take a walk by myself. I mean, I thought I did but once we started talking about it, the thought of it scared me.” Jenny straddled the end of the bench, her knees close to his but not touching. Although he was still avoiding her gaze, she saw his muscles tense when she sat down. “And then I was pissed off that I was scared, so mad that Evan could control me like that—keep me from walking on a perfectly safe path in broad daylight. He’s
dead
—why am I still afraid?” Jenny looked at Will for an answer but he just stared at the floor.

“All I want,” Jenny continued, “is to stay in your house forever, lock the doors and just let the grass and trees grow wild and the newspapers pile up on the porch.” She gave a small laugh that emptied into a sigh. “Stupid, huh?”

“I thought…” Will cleared his throat and started again. “When I first saw the house, the realtor was telling me that I should clear all the brush and trees out—you know, have a green lawn like all the neighbors, for barbeques and swing sets and shit like that
—
but I liked it wild. I pictured it growing around the house like Sleeping Beauty’s castle—only I
wanted
to be trapped inside.”

Jenny slid closer, letting her knees bump his legs. She hugged his arm with both of hers, pulling it against her chest, feeling the wet heat of his skin through her shirt. Kissing his arm, she could smell the musk of his sweat and taste the salt. Will shivered when her lips touched him and Jenny felt goose bumps pop up against her mouth. She explored the texture with her tongue.

Leaning into her hands, Will felt something loosen inside him. Until he had met Jenny, he hadn’t known how incredible it felt to be touched by another person.

“It wasn’t true, what you said…” He stumbled to a stop. The words were tangled together in a writhing heap in his brain and he was too anxious to sort them out. His skin, so hot a moment ago, felt freezing cold and he thought that he might throw up. He concentrated on the floor, focused on taking slow breaths—five seconds in, five seconds out. Jenny waited patiently, his arm still hugged against her. It was the only part of his body that felt warm.

“I wasn’t always big. Well…I was for my age but I was still a kid, you know? And people…they can do whatever they want to kids. It doesn’t matter what the kid wants.” The words were easier now, still not making much sense but tumbling out of him like pebbles down a slide.

“You can fight and fight but all that does is get you labeled a troublemaker. They want you to give in, just nod and smile and say ‘yes sir, whatever you say, sir’, and keep your mouth shut even when he knocks your head into the wall so hard you have chunks of plaster in your hair.” Will felt Jenny inhale, a sharp movement of her chest against his arm. He felt vaguely guilty for making her hear these things—shouldn’t part of keeping her safe mean keeping her away from stories like this? But the dam had cracked and the words leaked out, unstoppable.

“Your dad?” she asked.

“No.” Will shook his head hard. “No. Dad wasn’t mean—he was just sad. And quiet. Jesus, the house was always so quiet—like the air had solidified or something. I’d go to school and there was talking and laughing and yelling, and then I’d come home and it was like someone hit the mute button.

“I think he used to be normal, when my mom was there, but I can’t really remember—not real memories, more just feelings.” Will shrugged and his shoulder moved against Jenny’s cheek. “Maybe I just made it up.

“I came home from school one day and I didn’t even realize anything was wrong at first, ’cause I was so used to the silence. Something smelled weird though—a bad smell—and so I checked in his room. He had shot himself in the head.” Jenny jerked against him and he heard her small, choked sound but the words kept coming, falling out of him.

“It was funny—that he used a gun. Something so loud.” He was silent for a moment and he felt Jenny inhale, as if she was going to ask a question. Will spoke again before she could get the words out.

“I was an odd kid. Well,” he gave Jenny a sideways glance and a humorless quirk of his lips, “you probably figured that. Anyway, I wasn’t really a hot commodity as far as families went. They found a foster home for me. I stayed there for four years, until I was eighteen. They were okay. I learned to stay out of his way when he was in a mood and she wasn’t mean, just…kind of empty. Like she had been used up and was too tired for anything, really. Except for being knocked around once in a while, it was pretty much what I was used to—stay quiet, stay out of the way.”

His heart began beating faster and nausea rose again. “I was—” His voice caught and he tried again. “When I was fifteen, another kid moved in. No big deal—kids were always coming and going. This one though…” Will stopped and took a breath.

“He was seventeen—just eight months left in the system. Big kid—constantly pissed off. He’d shove me around a little, call me ‘Wilma’, but it was minor stuff, didn’t really bother me. It got worse when he couldn’t get a reaction, so I started avoiding him. I would stay at school until the janitor kicked me out so he could lock up. My grades had never been so good.

“You can’t keep avoiding someone you live with though. I woke up one night—” He choked a little and the fingers of his free hand made deep crescents on his thigh. “I was lying on my stomach and I felt this weight on top of me, crushing me. His hand was pushing my head into the pillow. I was a big kid but he was heavier and stronger and I couldn’t breathe…”

“Oh God, Will.” Jenny was crying, clutching his arm and dragging rough sobs out of her lungs. He was vaguely aware of her distress but he stared at the wall, his eyes unfocused, seeing a different place, a different time.

“After that night, I got a butcher knife from the kitchen and slept with it under my pillow. I thought of a thousand different ways to get kicked out of the house and put somewhere else—anywhere, even juvie would’ve been better than living with him. For three nights, I didn’t sleep—just lay in bed with my hand around the knife handle. The fourth day, he got arrested and sent to jail for stealing a car.”

“Stealing a car?” Jenny asked indignantly, hiccupping from her tears. “Why didn’t he get arrested for what he did to you?”

Will finally focused on her. “I never told anyone.”

“Never told? But what if he hadn’t been sent to jail? What would you have done?”

He shrugged, staring at the floor again. He felt ripped open, exposed, as if she could see all the dark, squirming secrets of his insides. “I don’t know. Killed him, maybe.” He paused. “Killed myself, probably.”