Ever since last Friday when he caught me sneaking back into the condo…when he called me a liar, not even really understanding how deceptive I was being…I’ve been mired in guilt. During those few minutes when he called me on my lie, and I thought he was going to throw me clean from his life, I knew in my soul that Beck North was the best thing that ever happened to me. When it all seemed to be crumbling away, and I was clawing furiously to get him to see past my lies, I had a moment of clarity when I realized that revenge on JT was not ever going to be worth the hurt I could put on Beck.

Despite that horrid tattoo that seems to leer at me, a constant reminder of everything that was taken away from me, I don’t think I can go through with my plans.

Today I wandered around the condo aimlessly, my copy of his office key tucked into the bottom of my makeup bag in the bathroom. It was the prime opportunity for me to search his office, and yet I steered clear of it, refusing to even look at that fucking office door.

Even if I knew without a doubt that there was a clear-cut answer in there about how I could avenge myself, I just couldn’t make myself do it. I just couldn’t betray Beck in that way. Even more horrific to consider was the effect it could have on him if I was successful in killing JT, especially if he ever realized that he was an unwitting partner in my murderous plot. He’d never be able to forgive himself, and I cannot bear to ever lay a torturous burden like that upon him.

And while I’d been in a funk since our near undoing last week, I sank into a dark depression today as I realized my quest to destroy my rapists was going to go unfulfilled. While in my head I knew that the reward of having Beck in a completely transparent and trusting way would be more than enough for me, I was heavily mourning my loss of vengeance. So sunk into my nasty thoughts, I had pulled the utility knife out of Beck’s kitchen drawer and carried it around with me.

Did I think about using it on myself?

Not really.

But I held on to that vile thing as a reminder of how far I’d sunk before, and that at that point in my life I didn’t have anything to live for.

With Beck in my life, I couldn’t say that now.

So it meant that there was going to be a part of me that would always be damaged, and I would just have to live with it.

I would just have to learn to live with it.

Beck turns to face me, but the tattoo is still in my peripheral vision as his back is reflected in the mirror that sits on top of the dresser. He smiles at me, his hands pulling the belt free of its loops and dropping it to the floor.

I would just have to learn to live with it.

My eyes cut to his reflection, and I swallow hard against the bitterness and hatred within me. I walk across the room as he watches me with heavy-lidded eyes. When I reach him, I step to his side, and with my hand on his waist, I turn him gently away from me.

Lifting my hand, which is shaking with fear, I place the tips of my fingers against the left wing of the phoenix. Beck lets out a sigh as I trace the outline.

“What are you doing?” he asks gruffly. I’ve never once mentioned his tattoo or inquired about it. This is the first time I’ve ever touched it.

“Where did you get this?” I ask softly, running my fingers along his skin…tracing the flaming feathers on the tail.

“A little tattoo parlor in Palo Alto,” he says.

“While you were at Stanford.” It’s a statement I can easily deduce based on the fact I assume this might be a fraternity thing and I knew JT and Beck went to Stanford together.

“That’s right. Got it after I pledged.”

“All members of the fraternity have it?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “Just a small group of us.”

Bile rises in my throat over the implication but I push it down. Beck was not a part of my rape.

He wasn’t.

I make myself lean forward and press my lips to the skin colored with red, gold, and orange feathers of flame. It’s warm and he smells like Beck. Clean, fresh, wild.

He turns abruptly, his arms snaking around my waist. He peers down at me intently, understanding that something is going on that he just doesn’t quite understand.

“Sela?” he asks in question.

“I’m sad,” I tell him truthfully, thinking I should feel self-conscious over admitting a vulnerability to this man, and yet feeling completely and utterly safe in my revelation.

Beck’s eyes go soft with sympathy and his hands come to my face. He cradles me gently, bends down further, and kisses my forehead. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your best friend raped me.

While I don’t think you did, I have maybe a sliver of a doubt. No, not really. I’m sorry to even think that.

I care for you more than I care about justice for myself, and that makes me miserable.

Yet I can tell him none of that. If I’m going to let it go, that means I can never burden Beck with my knowledge, my memories, or my suspicions. I need to take him as is, and let him be oblivious to my darkest days.

That will be for the best.

So I vow to myself that this will be the last time I lie to him. “I tend to get blue around the holidays. Missing my mom, I guess.”

He tilts his head, his blue eyes darkening in sorrow for me. “What can I do to help?”

I shrug, but then throw out a suggestion that I’m not sure will really make anything better for me, but might make him feel like he can help. “Maybe we could put up some of her decorations for Christmas. My dad has them boxed up for me.”

“Of course we can do that,” he says, and then pulls me into him. I bury my face in his neck and feel his warm skin against mine as we press together. “Where are the decorations?”

“At my dad’s. We’d have to go get them.”

“So I get to meet your dad, huh? Is he going to like me?”

“He’s going to adore you,” I assure him with a smile. My dad will utterly love him.

“Like you adore me?” he asks, his voice amused, but I also know this is a serious question.

“Not as much as I adore you, but it will be close,” I assure him.

Then Beck’s mouth is on mine, and I know he adores me too just by the ferocity of his kiss. Maybe he can’t say it in words, but that’s okay with me. I can read enough into his actions to know that Beck is on the same page as I am.

His hands come to the back of my bra and he flicks it open before pulling it from me. Then he’s opening my jeans, pushing them down my hips and dropping to his knees before me. Fingers going under the elastic of my panties, he pulls them down enough to gain access and runs his tongue up my center. My knees threaten to buckle, but I’m saved when he wraps his arms around them, picks me up, and turns to deposit me on the bed.