“We think so too,” I agreed.
Her smile dimmed a little as she nodded toward me with her chin. “I keep wondering if there’s a particular reason you’re wearing your jacket today.”
I glanced down at my bare legs and cheer skirt before self-consciously touching my cheer jacket. “Well, it’s . . . it’s almost the end of October.”
“Oh, I know. But this is Texas after all, and a little warm front blew in.” She lifted her mug placatingly. “I like being comfy, so I’m with you on wanting jacket weather to get here.”
I played with the bottom of my skirt before placing my hands on my legs. “I feel like there’s something you want to ask me, so you should probably just ask.”
“I’m just wondering if you decided to wear your jacket on a day that isn’t exactly cool because you’re maybe trying to hide something.”
“Like wha—” My hands went to my stomach a split second before my gaze followed. Something close to horror washed over me as I wondered if I was getting fat, and my focus snapped back to her. “I’m not pregnant.”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “Never thought that, and you don’t look it one bit, I promise.”
“Okay. Well, then, what would I be hiding?” I demanded, voice frantic and offended.
“It’s—” She blew out a harsh breath through her nose and set her mug down before leaning forward in her chair. “I want you to know, I’m here,” she continued. “I’m a safe space. You can talk to me without worrying about what will happen, and I’m going to do everything I can to help you.”
Unease moved through me, slow and thick. “I . . . I don’t—help me with what?”
She took a moment as if she needed to collect herself. When she began, her voice was soft and gentle. “Savannah, it has been brought to my attention that you’ve been seen with bruises this week. And that this isn’t the first time.”
Long seconds came and went as I waited for her to realize she was talking to the wrong person. But when her tone and declaration added up with all those previous warning bells, a disbelieving scoff burst from me. Because I knew exactly what she was insinuating.
Except she was wrong.
I got bruises all the time, sure. I was one of the smallest girls on the squad next to Madison, so I got tossed in the air a lot. If stunts didn’t go right—which, let’s face it, they didn’t always—I was caught in any way the girls were able to catch me. Sometimes, I fell flat on my butt. Not to mention, dance.
Bruises just happened in my life. Not once before then had I thought anything about them, though. Also, I was pretty positive I didn’t have any concerning bruises at that moment.
But I could see on Mrs. Warin’s face that this was a big deal to her in a Beau-Dixon kinda way, and it made me want to cry for him and scream at the people who didn’t understand him.
Instead, I pulled my bag close to my side and tried to keep my voice polite when I said, “I’m sorry, I think you’ve been misinformed.”
“Savannah, Beau has a history—”
“I’m aware,” I said tightly, that politeness replaced with ice in an instant.
She gave me a look as if to remind me that she was there for me. “The school has been informed that your relationship is abusive.”
“The school?” I asked, choking over the word. “As in, multiple people? More than just you?”
“This is very serious,” she confirmed calmly.
“Who? Who is saying this?” I bit out, my anger making my throat thick and my eyes burn with tears I refused to shed because I was too busy being pissed. “Because not once in the years that I’ve known Beau has he ever done anything but love and protect me.”
“Okay, let’s maybe just take a second and take a breath,” Mrs. Warin said. “I’m not your enemy, Savannah. I’m here for you. Remember, you can tell me anything.”
“If you’re waiting for my answer to change about him, it won’t.”
“Okay.” She lifted her hands in a calming motion. “There’s something else we need to address.”
“Fantastic,” I said through clenched teeth. “Let’s do that.”
A sigh left her before she said, “Within the information we received about your relationship, it was said that this abuse—”
“Which isn’t happening,” I said bitterly.
She paused for a moment before continuing. “This abuse might also be sexual in nature.”
I was so caught off guard that I sat there, too stunned to fully process what she was saying. I wasn’t sure I could process what she was saying.
My mind raced as I thought of the times when Beau and I were together.
His breath fanned my lips as he demanded, “Rough or easy?”
“I don’t care. I just want you.”
The slight sting of pain as he bit down on my lip had heat unfurling in my stomach and was enough to let me know what he needed before he said, “Rough then.”
But that . . . that was different. That wasn’t anything like what Mrs. Warin was hinting at. It was always my choice, and rough only meant he wasn’t gentle with me. That it wasn’t slow and tender. But it was still full of love. It was just passion and need and, well, rough.
It was Beau.
It was us.
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered. “Who even said this, and why is my relationship any of their business?”
“People who are very concerned about you.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped, then rolled my eyes when hers widened in surprise. “Sorry for cursing.”
Mrs. Warin just waved a hand through the air again. “Safe space.”
“Beau would destroy anyone who hurt me,” I said bluntly. Angrily. “He would destroy himself before hurting me . . . emotionally, physically, in any form. This is just someone being an asshole because they got bored . . . one . . . day.” My words slowed and softened, and my stomach bottomed out as a very real possibility came to mind. When I continued, my voice was nothing more than a distracted mumble. “Or maybe they’re trying to get a rise out of Beau for one reason or another. And when he hears this, that’s exactly what they’ll get. Did you ever consider the timing of when you were told all this? Right before a game against our biggest rival when we’re undefeated? What if someone is trying to make sure Beau doesn’t play because they know he’ll get himself kicked out of school before the game?”
“Savannah, these are very serious accusations against—”
“And they’re bullshit,” I repeated. “I don’t even have any bruises that I’m aware of. Look.” I grabbed the zipper of my jacket and roughly yanked it down, shrugging my arms free and shoving them out for Mrs. Warin to inspect since my legs were already mostly bared to her. “Let’s be real, my parents would love a solid reason to have Beau and me separated because of that history you mentioned, but even they know he would never touch me.”
She gave a slow sigh, her voice the same unnerving calm it had been since we’d begun that part of our discussion. “That only gives me a small relief, Savannah. Bruises fade—”