“I don’t know, but we really don’t have a reason to go on the streets unless there’s a call for something today. I’m just in here catching up on shit, and since all I can think about is that journal, crack it open and read it to me.”
“Mase, I’m not reading you Rachel’s journal.”
“Well I don’t want to hear her love letters to you. Just read me the rest.”
Like her entries to her parents? Uh, no. “If there’s anything like that, I’ll read it to you.”
I went through the entire journal, and let Mason read over my shoulder through the parts that I thought of as the “captive entries.” Each day she had pages where she wrote to her parents and me, and then pages of everything that had happened during the day. What she ate, what she drank, what she and Trent talked about. Like I said, captive entries.
Over three-quarters of the way through the journal, one of her entries to her parents suddenly stopped, and there was nothing after it. I sat back in my chair and folded my hands behind my head.
“Is there more for me to read?” Mason asked as he scooted his chair over to me.
“No, it’s done. It just cut off.”
We watched as the last quarter of the journal’s pages slowly fluttered over to the other side from the weight of the rest of the pages, and I lurched forward in my chair at the same time Mason harshly whispered, “Shit, is that blood?”
“What the hell?” I scanned through the last ten or so pages, which had smears of blood all over them, and came to a stop when I got to the last page. “Oh my God.”
“What? What’s on— Oh damn . . .” He trailed off when he saw the top of the page.
I read over the words on the last page and hung my head when Mason eventually took the journal from me so he could read the entire last page too.
“Are you going to show her?”
I rubbed at the back of my neck and looked over at him before shrugging. “I have to. I can’t keep that from her. She would hate me if she found out later.”
He nodded and tossed the closed journal on my desk. “I agree. Shit, I hope this doesn’t hurt the progress you’ve both had though.”
“Me too.” I breathed out heavily. This could change everything. “Me too.”
Rachel
MY EYES KEPT DRIFTING SHUT as Trip and I watched TV on the couch while we waited for Kash to come home. I’d spent almost the entire day outside, writing in my journal, and hadn’t noticed how much time had gone by until I realized it was dark outside. After a shower and quick snack, I’d curled up on the couch and hadn’t moved since.
I knew I needed to start living my life again—having an entire day slip by without realizing it had been proof—but I was so used to doing nothing that it was hard to think of doing something as simple as going out for coffee with Maddie. And, to be honest, a small part of me was terrified to leave the house. It was a ridiculous fear, seeing how I’d been taken from home, but at least here I didn’t feel so vulnerable. Out in the open, anyone could see me. I needed to change that, though. I couldn’t let fears of what had happened dictate the rest of my life, just like I hadn’t let what happened with Blake define me or how I lived in the months after.
The sound of Kash’s Harley echoed in the cul-de-sac, and Trip jumped off the couch to wait by the door for him to come in. I sat up when I heard him unlock the door, and the smile fell from my face when I noticed his careful expression.
“Hey, Rach. You have a good day?”
“I did. Are you okay? Something bad happen at work?”
“No, work was pretty calm. But I do need to talk to you.”
My body instantly tensed up as I waited for what was coming next. We’d been doing so well these last three weeks, so what was wrong now? Did this have to do with why he still refused to actually kiss me? Was I not getting better fast enough for him?
“Stop overthinking, I can see you freaking out already. I got called in to talk to Chief today, and I’m fine. My job is still safe, but he gave me something . . . and I’m about to give it to you.”
“Uh, okay?” That so hadn’t been where I thought that was about to go. I pulled my legs up on the couch to rest my chin on my knees, and waited until he got comfortable next to me.
“If you don’t want to see this, let me know, and I’ll make sure you don’t see it again. But, uh, well, they recovered this from your room at the house.” He held out the journal Trent had bought me, and my throat constricted as I reached out for it. “Before I give it back to you, I need you to know that I read it. I read the entire thing. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes, yeah of course I am. A lot of it was to you anyway, that’s fine.” I grabbed for it again, and he grabbed my hand instead, holding the journal away from me. I looked up at him, my face scrunched in confusion. “Why—”
“There’s something else. Something I’m positive you didn’t know about, and something I almost didn’t see myself. I read it also, and if you want to read it alone, I understand. Just know that I’m here for you, and you can talk to me about whatever you need to after reading it . . . okay?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand. Okay? I guess?” Why does he look so unsure of himself all of a sudden?
“Trent wrote you something in the back, Rachel. Do you want to read it?”
Trent wrote to me. He wrote to me! Not a day had gone by that I hadn’t thought about him, and what may be happening to him. And not a day had gone by that I hadn’t thanked God for him . . . for keeping me safe. Despite our last day together, and my confusion about my feelings for him, I still knew without a doubt that I wasn’t, and never had been, in love with him. He was my friend, and I owed him my life. I was still dealing with the guilt that he’d done all he’d promised, and I couldn’t keep my promises to him, but I knew that would take time to get past.