Norah looks at me with an unreadable expression before it shifts to absolute trust. “You don’t know how much that means to me. Thank you,” she says, “but I do want to tell you though. Which is surprising, since I usually avoid this subject at all costs.”
I reach across the table and cautiously lace my fingers through hers. “Then, I’m all ears and no judgment.”
She looks at our hands and takes a shuddering breath, while I brace myself for what she’s about to share with me. I sense that whatever it is, she was traumatized by it.
“When I was in high school,” Norah begins, “I was out with a group of friends on a Friday night, and we were being stupid and reckless—as most seventeen-year-olds are. In my hometown, there’s not a lot to do on a Friday night—other than get into trouble. As the night progressed, we ended up in an abandoned barn, drinking alcohol smuggled from our parents’ liquor cabinets. I had been shamelessly flirting with this guy, Ashton, who was a couple of years older than me. He was known to be a nice guy, and everyone loved him. Super smart and charming. The fact that he even knew my namewas flattering. We all started taking shots around midnight. I was young, but I knew better. My Mom had always impressed upon me the importance of not drinking underage and what could happen if I did. But I really thought this time was different. Slowly, couples began disappearing to other parts of the barn or into the field. Before I knew it, Ashton and I were outside, kissing up against the side of the barn. There was no one near us. Teenagers with raging hormones and alcohol…never a good combination. I didn’t have any intention of doing anything further than that, but Ashton did. When he started trying to…” She pauses to chew on her lip for a second before continuing, “…unbutton my jeans, I knew it was time to stop.”
My blood begins to boil as I see where her story is going and I have to take a calming breath as she continues. “So I pulled away and told him I wasn’t ready for that. Thinking that he was a nice guy, I expected him to back off. I was wrong. He got so angry. He shoved me back against the barn and violently kissed me. I kept trying to push him away, but he was so much stronger than me, and when I tried to yell, he put his hand over my mouth and threw me to the ground. He…he raped me and left as soon as he was done.” Pausing to swallow, she glances down at her lap before her gaze drifts back to our hands. “I stayed there curled up on the ground for hours after. I was too ashamed to go home.”
I’m speechless, and my heart is absolutely shattered in my chest, yet somehow racing out of control. I’m practically shaking with rage and the desire to find the monster that took advantage of this amazing woman and tear him limb from limb with my bare hands. The hand not holding onto Norah’s clenches in my lap, and I exhale the breath I’ve been holding. I squeeze her fingers gently and she glances up at me, having averted her eyes while reliving the hell she experienced.
“And now you know why I was so hesitant to accept a ride from you,” she whispers. “And why I need to take things slow.”
Inhaling another deep breath, I will myself to calm the fuck down so my anger doesn’t scare her.
Leaning closer, I look directly into her eyes and say, “First, thank you for sharing that with me. I can’t imagine how hard it was to relive that. Second,I’m going to need this bastard’s information.” I’m cradling her hand in both of mine now. “And third, we can take this as slow as you need and want to. I’m happy to just sit here with you and listen to you talk.”
Norah blushes and places her other hand on top of mine, fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” she says, “for all of this. I’m really happy to be here with you. I’ve avoided guys for so long that I’m actually shocked that any of this is even happening.”
My heart stutters. I am humbled and honored to be the one she trusts enough to take this step with. That she finds me worthy of her time and attention is astounding. Being with Norah in any capacity, let alone dating her, is something to be treasured and something I don’t take lightly.
“So what happened to that arsehole? Please tell me he went to jail,” I demand.
“I wish. But no. I was so ashamed that I never told anyone. Not until years later. I realize now how stupid that was, but what can I do now? A whole lot of nothing,” she answers with a shrug.
“You’re joking?” I sputter in shock. “This needs to be reported. He can’t get away with this.”
Norah sighs. “I know. But won’t it seem strange coming years later? I don’t even know where he is now.”
“That should be easy to figure out with today’s technology. You can find anyone on the internet. I’ll even do the work for you,” I volunteer.
I’d love nothing more than to find this fucker and bring him to justice.
“I don’t know, Eamon. I’ll have to think about it,” Norah says uncertainly, looking away.
“Hey,” I say, squeezing her hand again until she looks at me. “I understand. I have no idea how difficult it would be for you, but he cannot get away with what he did to you. The States are seriously lacking when it comes to punishment for rapists. In Ireland, if convicted, a rapist will spend life in prison. It’s the absolute least they deserve.”
“Wow,” she breathes, eyes wide. “It’s good to hear there are places that actually do more than just slap the offender on the wrist and tell them to be good. Anyway, enough of that. Today is too beautiful to waste on sadstories.”
I stand, pulling her up with me, and twine our fingers together on both hands. “Thank you for telling me, Norah. For trusting me with this. I’m honored. I meant what I said about not rushing anything. You’re in control here.”
Norah’s eyes turn glassy and a tear slips through, trailing over her cheek.
“Ach, don’t cry, love,” I say, releasing one of her hands to wipe the tear away.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I’ve spent so long avoiding guys and the first one I take a chance on is…” She huffs a little laugh then meets my eyes before saying, “You’re one of the good ones Eamon Kennedy.
Chapter Fifteen
Norah
The forecasted weather has arrived. At the first rumble of thunder, we move inside and perch on my couch, listening to the soft drumming of the rain, while we talk about current classes. I still can’t believe Eamon is even here, choosing to spend the afternoon with me. We’re seated on opposite ends of the sofa, mirroring each other. He has an arm slung over the back of the sofa and an ankle propped on his knee, while my legs are curled underneath me.
“…the next thing I know, I’m covered head to toe in dirty street water.”
I throw my head back, laughing at Eamon’s recounting of the time he visited London with his family. They had gone on holiday when he was about thirteen, and he wanted to see Big Ben, while his sister, Caity, wanted to see Kensington Gardens. They had each been pulling on the map, and ittore down the middle, causing them both to fall. Caity managed to land on the sidewalk, while Eamon ended up in a puddle.
As I’m walking him to the door a couple of hours later, I realize that I feel lighter than I have in years. Mostly from opening up to Eamon about my past, but also because I could sit and talk with him all day. He’s an amazing listener and fascinating storyteller, and I know that he’s going to make one hell of a teacher someday.
