Deep Attraction: Keep Me Safe

Chapter 2

Caity

It takes about ten minutes to arrive at the police station. Matt pulls into a parking spot and looks over at me while he's undoing his seatbelt.

"It's going to be okay, Caity. I'll be there every step of the way, and you will not go through this alone."

I nod, even though my stomach is in knots, and unclip my seatbelt. We both open our doors at the same time, stepping out into the chilly morning air. The cold hits me instantly—sharp, biting—like the day itself is warning me that nothing about this is going to be easy.

Matt comes around the car to stand beside me, locking it behind us. His presence is steady, strong, the kind of comforting weight I didn't realize I needed until right now.

The police station looms in front of us, all brick and glass, too official, too real. My hands tremble slightly, so I shove them into the pockets of my jacket.

"You ready?" he asks gently.

No. I'm not. But I force myself to nod anyway.

"Yeah... let's just get this over with."

Matt gives me a small, encouraging smile before we start walking toward the entrance together—my heart pounding with every step.

Walking side by side with him until I make it to the entrance, Matt opens the door and gestures for me to walk in first. The moment we step inside, the cold, sterile air of the station wraps around me, making the hairs on my arms stand. We walk up to the front desk where an officer sits behind a stack of paperwork.

"Excuse me, sir, my sister would like to file a report," Matt says, his voice steady in a way I wish mine could be.

I focus on taking slow, deep breaths as I let my brother speak for me. The officer lifts his gaze, first meeting my eyes, then shifting to Matt. There's something unreadable in his expression.

"Please take a seat," he instructs as he pulls out a set of forms, placing them neatly on his desk before grabbing a pen.

I glance at Matt for reassurance before sitting down. My fingers twist together in my lap, and when I look back up at the officer, fear coils in my stomach. I don't know if he'll believe me. I don't know if I even look old enough to be taken seriously. In his eyes, I'm probably just a kid—scared, emotional, maybe even dramatic.

For the next hour, I go through everything that happened this morning. Step by painful step. My voice shakes at first, but I force myself to keep going. The officer scribbles down notes quickly, stopping every so often to ask a question or clarify a detail. Each answer feels like reopening a wound.

By the time I finish, he finally sets down his pen.

When he lifts his head and looks at me—really looks at me—I see it clear as day.

Anger.

Not at me.

But for me.

And for the first time since this morning, I feel the smallest flicker of hope that maybe... someone is finally willing to help.

"First off, I am sorry that you had to go through this today," the officer begins, folding his hands on top of the paperwork. "But unfortunately, my hands are tied and I can't do much on my end. He didn't r**e you, and your brother stopped him before he was able to. Since neither of you are adults, I can't take action going forward. If your mother comes down to the station and files a report, then I'll be able to move forward."

I stare at him, completely stunned. His words don't make sense. They feel like bricks being dropped inside my chest, one after another. After everything I just told him—after reliving every moment—I'm met with this?

I feel Matt before I see him. His whole body goes rigid beside me. His ears turn bright red, the way they always do when he's trying to contain his anger. His hands curl into tight fists, knuckles whitening, and I know if I let him speak, he'll explode.

I shoot up from my chair and grab his arm before he does something he'll regret. "Matt," I whisper sharply, tugging him up. "Let's just... go. We can talk to Mom."

He's breathing hard through his nose, jaw clenched so tightly it looks painful.

I turn back to the officer because it feels like the polite thing to do—even though my stomach twists at the sight of him. "Thank you for trying to help us," I say, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

Without waiting for a response, I pull Matt toward the exit. The automatic doors slide open, the cold morning air hitting us again as we walk out of the station—our hope left somewhere behind on that cheap plastic chair.

Once we step outside, the cold hits us again, sharp and unwelcome. Matt turns to face me the moment the doors close behind us.

"You know Mom isn't going to come down to the station to make a statement," he says, frustration tightening every word. "All she wants to do is sweep this under the rug and pretend like it never happened—and you know that."

I swallow hard and nod. He's right. As much as it hurts to admit it, he's right. We start walking toward the car, our footsteps echoing the same angry rhythm in the quiet lot.

The car unlocks with a beep, and we both slide in, shutting the doors with a dull thud that feels too final. I grab my seatbelt, click it into place, and look over at my brother.

"If the officer is refusing to help us without Mom," I whisper, "what can we even do, Matthew? What if next time Dad... does succeed?"

Matt's jaw flexes, and he starts the car. He puts his seatbelt on and pulls out of the parking spot, his eyes fixed on the road ahead even as the anger rolls off him in waves.

"I won't allow him to hurt you," he says, voice low but fierce. "You'll start sleeping in my room every night. We stay together. He won't get anywhere near you again."

I nod, the fear in my chest easing just a little as we merge onto the highway. Matt may be young—but he's the only person in this world who has ever tried to protect me.

We drive in silence, the weight of everything sitting between us, until the school comes into view.

Once we get to school, we walk to the entrance together and head straight to the office to grab a late slip before going our separate ways to our own classes.

The day drags on. Every hour feels like an eternity, every minute a reminder of the morning and what waits at home. I count down the hours obsessively, staring at the clock as it creeps forward. Finally, the bell rings. Relief floods through me, and I quickly pack up my things, shoving books and papers into my bag before walking out the classroom door.

As I make my way down the crowded halls, I spot Matt coming toward me, his backpack slung over one shoulder. I fall into step beside him, silent, both of us dreading the ride home.

"It'll be okay," he says softly as we slip into his car, starting the engine. I nod, not trusting my voice, as he pulls out of the parking lot.

The radio hums quietly in the background, music filling the space between us, comforting in its own way. Neither of us speaks. There's no need—we both know the conversation waiting at home will be impossible.

When we pull into the driveway, the house is lit up, every light on, like it's daring us to enter. I take a deep breath as we both step out, the cold air a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Matt unlocks the door, and we step inside together. The familiar scent of home is tinged with tension. He closes the door behind me, the click echoing in the quiet hallway.

For a moment, we just stand there, listening to the muffled sounds of the house, bracing ourselves for what comes next.

"Mom..." I start, my voice catching slightly.

She pauses, glancing up from the brown boxes she's been packing, and I see the flurry of movement around her slow. "What is going on, Mom?" I ask, stepping a little closer, trying to read her expression.

She sets a box down and walks over to us, her face calm but serious. "I ended things with your father," she says, taking a deep breath. "But his name is still on the house, so unfortunately, we have to move. I found an apartment. It's small, but you both will still be able to attend your school. Please grab boxes and start packing up your rooms—the moving truck will be here soon."

Neither Matt nor I respond immediately. My chest tightens, a jumble of relief, uncertainty, and cautious hope swirling inside me. Part of me wants to scream, "Finally!" Another part worries about what this change really means.

But deep down, I feel a spark of excitement. She's finally taken a step to protect us, to start over. Maybe this—finally—will be a fresh start for the three of us.

I glance at Matt, who's staring at the floor, fists clenched. I know he's feeling it too—the same mixture of fear and hope. Slowly, I start toward my room, feeling the tiniest flicker of optimism in the pit of my chest.

Quickly, the three of us start packing up our belongings, carrying boxes to the moving truck. The air is filled with the soft thuds of boxes being set down and the occasional rustle of packing tape. Once everything is loaded, Matt shuts the truck door with a firm click. Our mother calls out the address of our new home before climbing in herself, and the truck slowly pulls out of the driveway.

I pause for a moment, looking back at the house—our old life, full of memories both good and painful. Then I turn and walk toward Matt's car. We slide in quickly, the familiar comfort of the vehicle wrapping around us. Seatbelts clicked into place, the engine hums to life, and we pull out of the driveway.

The drive is quiet at first, but gradually, a shared smile passes between us. We both know things are going to get better. Our parents are no longer together, and for the first time in a long while, it feels like the three of us can finally breathe.

I rest my head lightly against the window, watching our old development fade behind us. Ahead lies the apartment where we can start fresh—our new beginning. A warmth spreads through my chest, replacing the fear and uncertainty that have lingered for so long.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm finally happy.