CHAPTER 66
The faraway look William held when he arrived has intensified, and he stares at his boots. I walk to the window and look out. People pass by with bags of Christmas shopping, excited kids skipping along and gathering the tiny layer of snow from the wall to make snowballs. Ordinary.
If William wanted to lie to me, he’d pick a story with him in a more favorable light and not one where he’s a villain.
I turn back to William. “Why did you do all those things? How can you treat someone like that? Like they’re just your plaything?”
He looks me straight in the eyes. “Because I was high and thought I was entitled to anything. Back then, I didn’t give a shit about other people. And other stuff—complicated things between Jem and me.”
The stories about Blue Phoenix I came across from those years reinforce the extremity of his lifestyle, but this? He could have his pick of any girl, and he did this? “That doesn’t excuse what happened.”
“If it means anything, the incident opened my eyes to how fucked up I was. I went into rehab and didn’t touch a girl for months afterward.”
“Why? Scared you’d have to pay her off again?” I can’t help the edge of my voice. “I guess that’s how you fixed your little problem? Money?”
He shakes his head. “We didn’t. Well, not exactly. I paid for the Art course she’d applied for by persuading the department to give her their annual scholarship in return for a generous donation.
I never had the chance to make amends with her. One night, plus my set of choices afterward, screwed up everything. Between Jem and me, and now between you and me.”
He leans against the wall, hands buried in his jacket pockets, back to staring at his boots.
Yes, if I want to let his past end any chance we had, and if I believe that William hasn’t changed, he deserves to be punished for his mistakes forever.
“William, look at me.” He turns his tired eyes to mine. “Berky. The sex was a hundred percent consensual? There was no coercion at all?”
“She didn’t say ‘no’. I asked her more than once if she was okay with what we were doing. There was no doubt, Sarah.”
I study his expression, willing him not to look away because if he does, I won’t believe his words. William’s face holds a distant truth.
He didn’t do this. He didn’t rape her.
“Why did you have sex with her and make things worse? You’d done enough harm.”
“I don’t know,” he says and returns his gaze to the floor. “I wish I hadn’t. First, I put her in the position that almost got her assaulted, and then, I did something that left her feeling used.”
Wrapping my arms around my chest, I fight to absorb the facts. Is Emma right? Was this all revenge by Berky? This is extreme.
“William, I don’t understand why you walked away and let me think you raped someone. You should’ve told me and given me the chance to make up my mind.”
William pushes a hand into his curls and holds his hair tight for a moment. “I’m a fucking coward, Sarah. That’s why.”
“You had no idea how I’d react! What you’ve told me makes me feel sick, but can’t you see the difference between what you were accused of and this?”
“Kind of.”
Something’s missing. Either that or William has an impossible time forgiving himself for the past.
“How did Berky know where I was?”
“Jem. He’s a whole other story and I don’t want to talk about him.” His voice hardens. “He destroyed me and you.”
The sound of car tires sloshing through the streets fills the following expanse of silence between us. My head spins as I try to take in the fucked up lifestyle William lived. The Jem he describes looking for something real from an ordinary girl could easily be the William I met in the summer.
My head hurts in confusion. Who is the real William Morgan out of all the ones I’ve seen?
“I get from your silence and body language that hasn’t changed anything?”
“This is a lot to think about, William.” Something is missing, confusing gaps around events and decisions made. I don’t believe I have the full story.
“Yeah, I bet. The mistakes I make in my life are bigger than other people’s because I have bigger opportunities to fuck things up, but this doesn’t mean I regret them any less.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to reach out to me and my betraying body wants to hold this sad guy. He’s suffering for past wrongs he’s allowing to shape his life. I remember his words from Broadbeach, how he can’t breathe and things are killing him.
Dragged back into his past, and stuck in the world he wants to escape, has killed more of the man he was by the sea.
“I don’t know what to say; this isn’t what I expected you to tell me,” I say hoarsely.
“I’ve said enough then?” William rubs his eyes and watches for my response.
Again, I fight the pull to him. The aura around William was never bad, always lost and painful.
“I understand if you can’t accept what I did, and hate that man, but you know now.”
I can’t process this all at the moment, and I stare at the sleeting snow.
“I brought you something,” he says. William pulls a package from his pocket, a small box wrapped in holly-patterned Christmas paper. He watches me and then hesitantly puts the gift on my coffee table.
“Why?” I ask hoarsely.
“In case I don’t see you again, I want you to have this.” He indicates the box.
A painful ache begins low in my stomach at the idea of finding William again and him walking away forever. My lack of response gives him the wrong impression and he sighs quietly.
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll go.”
I stiffen as he steps toward me, and places a kiss in the center of my forehead. Closing my eyes, I hold my breath against the scent and warmth of this man, who I foolishly want to be mine.
“Happy Christmas, Summer Sarah. Thanks for listening to me.”
A tear escapes and I scrub at it with my sleeve. “I don’t hate you,” I whisper.
“Thank you.”
The gulf left by William when he walks out of the flat pulls me to a place where I can’t breathe. As I sit on the sofa, the barely held-back tears spill. He waited four months to tell me these facts.