Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.

A/N: Thank you for all of the incredible comments and support for this story. Thanks are owed again to misty23y for her continued work as my beta. This is my longest chapter to date - Enjoy!

Chapter 13

Date/Time Stamp: Saturday, 15SEP18 1900-2230

Stephanie POV

I'm lying in Ranger's arms. He said he loves me. My eyes are closed, and the warmth of his presence is working to break down some of the barriers I've built to protect my heart. Do I believe him? I have every reason not to believe him. Part of this journey, however, is to start being honest with myself. I desperately want to believe him.

I whisper, "I love you, too. Please don't leave me."

I feel Ranger relax against me, and he kisses the top of my head. I'm still crying, but it's a mixture of relief, sadness, pent-up emotion, and even a little joy.

Ranger says in a husky voice, "Babe, I'm grateful you love me in return. Thank you for trusting me."

I'm overwhelmed. I've never heard Ranger say so much as this evening. He may be a man of few words, but those were well-chosen words. "Thank you for opening up to me," I say. My sobs are lessening, and I'm drawing strength from his presence. I'm tightly gripping his shirt. I think I'm a little afraid if I let him go, I'll find out this was all a dream.

"I will work to be that way with you more," he says.

I shift in the bed, maintaining physical contact. I'm starving. I reach for some food and water, and Ranger is quick to help me. I'm embarrassed by my display of physical weakness earlier. "I'm sorry for nearly passing out on you," I say between bites. "I didn't mean for you to have to take care of me."

Ranger looks at me intently, "You never have to apologize for me helping you. You have always gone above and beyond for me. It is what friends do for each other; it's what I do for the people I love. I love you, Stephanie Plum."

I don't know what to say, so I look away and take another swig of water. I finish eating and excuse myself to the bathroom to clean up. I wash my hands, rinse my face and restore minimal order to my ponytail. I still look pale and puffy, but it's the best I can do. Finishing up, I walk out to the balcony and lean against the rail, looking out at the ocean glimmering in the moonlight. Ranger moves beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me next to him.

"Will you tell me why you are here?" he asks. "Please, Babe."

There it is. The magic word I can never refuse. I wrap my arms around myself in a hug, but mostly in a physical attempt to hold myself together. I need to be strong. I turn to sit in the chair but continue to face the ocean. Looking into his eyes while baring my soul is too hard.

"First, I need to know you won't react and take some type of immediate action, no matter what I tell you. I'm not revealing my life to you so you can fix it. I need a friend and a confidant. Can you do that for me?" I say this sharply, wanting to convey how important this is to me. I can't work through my feelings and worry about his actions.

I glance over and see him frown from the corner of my eye. He hesitates before replying, "I am here for you. I won't do anything without talking to you first. I want to listen and hear what you have to say." Okay, I think. I can do this.

I stare out again, gathering my inner strength and courage.

"I'm here because I've never been able to face the truth about my life and the consequences the actions of others and myself have had on it. I've denied, twisted the truth, and chosen to believe others over myself. Despite my best efforts, the truth has been a wrecking ball inside me the past few months, and I need to let it finish its work of breaking me down. Ultimately, I didn't come as a pity party, but to figure out how to rebuild," I start. I'm determined not to cry, and I keep my voice low and flat. To his credit, Ranger sits silently.

"When I was six years old, Joe invited me into his father's garage to play a game he called choo-choo. He considered himself the train, and me, the tunnel. I naïvely believed him. He molested me that day. I didn't understand the experience, and when I confided in my mother, she told me I was a bad girl who deserved it for not listening to her warnings. I believed her. You are the first person I have told since that day." My breath catches, and I take a moment to calm myself. My heart is beating rapidly.

"Do you know about the infamous Tasty Pastry incident?" I pause and glance at Ranger to see him shake his head no. I thought I told him the story, but I guess he doesn't remember it. I continue, "When I was sixteen and working at Tasty Pastry, Joe came in one night. I was there by myself, closing up the bakery. He came behind the counter, and we had sex. The next day, he left for the Navy. Everyone believed I was another Burg girl smitten with the Italian Stallion. The messages he left around town, which I recently discovered still exist, only serve to promote this image. Since seeing one of his messages first hand a few weeks ago, I've started to have intense and unrelenting flashbacks."

I collect myself, digging deep to say the next words out loud. I've fixed my eyes on a fleck of paint on the railing. My elbows are on my knees, and my hands are under my chin, white-knuckled fingers laced together. I continue with a low voice.

"The truth is, he raped me. I've never said it aloud, and I think this is the first time I'm even fully admitting it to myself. I told him, no, and he persisted. He took advantage of my crush and took it farther than I wanted. His actions cost me my job, my reputation and anything I had left of my mother's acceptance." I can't do anything to stop the lone tear that falls down my face. My rigid body is shaking at the intensity of relating these stories.

I pause, attempting to straddle the line between memories and the present. My voice begins to shake as I remember the aftermath of that night. "My mother threatened me not to become pregnant. Turns out, a week later, I missed my period. I stole a pregnancy test and took it in the convenience store's bathroom. It was positive." I'm becoming lost to the memory, and I fight to push back the fear I experienced that day. "I desperately didn't want the baby; I didn't have anyone to confide in and nowhere to turn. I hated the life growing inside me. I read increased exercise and caffeine can cause a miscarriage. So, I ran and drank caffeinated drinks constantly, every day. I prayed for God to take the baby away from me. I began bleeding two weeks later."

I can feel the tension mounting in my body, and I'm hugging my middle in a physical attempt to keep myself together to finish my confession. "I felt so grateful not to have had motherhood thrust upon me. And then I felt intensely guilty like I was a monster who isn't fit to have kids, like there is something wrong with me. I feel, even now, that I'm someone who isn't worthy enough to be a mom because I had a chance and wished the baby dead. Every year I still imagine that baby and the life he or she could have had. You are the only one I've ever told this to," I finish in a whisper.

I don't attempt to stop the tears from running down my face. I take an unsteady breath, pushing myself to continue. I need Ranger to hear the entire story before he decides if he loves me or not.

"Before you returned this last time, I captured a skip by the name Michael Bruno. He was an easy find for me; he's a long-time friend of Joe's. We had a chance to sit and catch up for a bit before I took him in, the details aren't important. What is important is he admitted that after Joe raped," my voice catches at the word, and I have to pause before continuing. I take a deep breath. "raped me, and before he left for the Navy, he gathered the boys to brag. One drink led to another, and they made a bet that he would marry me someday. There are various terms, but the pot has been sitting in a bank account this entire time. To the best of my knowledge, it is more than $1,200. I guess not too many people get to know what their marriage is worth to someone," I add with resignation.

"It took several attempts on my part to get Joe to talk about the bet over a few months. One of the reasons it took so long is his hedging, but part of the responsibility is my own. I didn't feel entirely ready to hear the truth while being plagued with nightmares of the past. I wanted to believe the choices I was currently making to be with him were okay. I wanted to believe he had changed, and the past was the past." I can't stop the tears now, but I won't stop until I finish my story.

"I finally confronted Joe two nights ago. He became upset, and I realized he was lying to me. He ripped off my shirt, and as I moved away, pushed me against a wall. I believe if I hadn't fought back he would have raped me again." I say this in a near whisper.

"On top of that, I can't help but feel responsible for Emily's death. I've found working difficult, and my confidence is gone." I look down between my feet, shoulders hunched forward, running my hands through my hair. I can't look at Ranger.

"I have been fighting feelings of desolation, despair, failure, embarrassment, shame, and vulnerability, among others. My days are difficult, and intense nightmares plague me so I haven't slept more than an hour or two at a time in months. I feel deeply broken."

I'm suddenly awash in emotion. It races through my body, and I can no longer be still. My breathing is rapid, my hands trembling as I stand, forcing me to turn and race from the room. I sprint through the hall, down the stairs, and to the ocean. In my bare feet, I run, tears blurring my vision. I don't look back. I run through the sand to the edge of the surf, causing my lungs and legs to burn. I collapse to my knees, put my head in my hands and scream.

Ranger is next to me on the sand, wrapping his arms around me, allowing me to scream into chest while I cry. I let the tears fall, allowing the emotions to course through my body, all the feelings denied and tucked away for nearly thirty years, and I allow Ranger to be my strength.