The Dixon Rule (Campus Diaries, 2)

That’s not who I am

IT’S A STRUGGLE TO KEEP MY COMPOSURE AS DIANA AND I DRIVE BLAKE back to campus. Without a word, I pull into the parking lot behind Burton House, Blake’s dorm, and kill the engine.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says, reaching for the door handle. “This was fun.”

“Don’t ignore Isaac,” Diana scolds as Blake hops out of the backseat. “Give him a chance.”

“I don’t think so.”

Diana rolls down the window, shouting after her. “Give him a chance!”

“Nah” is the response floating in the wind.

Diana turns to me and grins.

I’m incapable of sharing in her humor. I cannot unsee what I saw in her phone. It’s burned like a cattle brand into my brain.

Her smile slowly fades. “What’s wrong?”

I take a breath. I can’t find the words. I honestly don’t know how to start because I’m so fucking livid.

“Shane, hey.”

She reaches for my hand.

I shrug it off.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Deep concern lines her voice. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Dixon.” I drag another burst of oxygen into my aching lungs. “I am trying really hard right now not to explode and do something I’m going to regret.”

“Regret?” Alarm widens her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I need you to be honest with me. I’m going to ask you a question and all I want from you is honesty. It’s a yes or no. And I mean it. Don’t lie.”

She visibly gulps. “What is it?”

“Did your ex-boyfriend hit you?”

The car goes deadly silent. Diana’s face pales, her expression stricken. I already know the answer before she even responds.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Don’t,” I snap. “I asked for a yes or no. Did Percy hit you?”

After a long, tension-ridden silence, she says, “Yes.”

Rage slams into me.

I grip the steering wheel with both hands, squeezing it until my knuckles turn white. I can’t even think about putting the car in drive right now. Can’t risk leaving this parking lot. Because if I do, I’ll be tracking down Percy whatever the fuck his last name is and mowing him down with this car until he’s a bloody pulp beneath my tires. And I don’t give a shit if that makes me a psychopath. The knowledge that he laid his hands on Diana has dissolved my vision into a red haze. At this moment, I’m capable of murder.

“How did you…” She trails off.

“The folder on your phone,” I bite out. “You should have moved it to one of your hidden folders.”

“I didn’t expect anyone to ever go through my phone,” she says tightly.

“I didn’t purposely go through it. I accidentally clicked it. And then what? I’m supposed to pretend I didn’t see a picture of your beaten face?”

“It…it was just a black eye.”

“Just a—!” I stop, taking a calming breath. I squeeze the steering wheel again before slowly lowering my hands. “Let me see it again.”

“Why?”

“Because I only skimmed the messages. And I think it’ll be easier to read rather than have you tell me, because I’m goddamn volatile right now and—”

“No, I get it,” she cuts in. Hands shaking, she passes me her phone.

My heart batters against my ribs as I read through everything. Diana kept it all. From what I can gather, it happened after work. Percy showed up after her shift. Walked her home.

And fucking hit her.

He put his filthy, pathetic hands on her and—

I hiss out another breath. Calm down.

In his messages, Percy keeps insisting it was a reflex. Instinctual. But I saw the photo of her face. I saw her black eye in person. That was not instinctual. That was a sick asshole who hurt a defenseless woman.

Diana documented every text where he admits that he assaulted her. But he continues to blame her for it, saying she shoved him.

“Did you touch him?” I ask gruffly.

Her entire face collapses. “I didn’t do anything. He grabbed my arm and I tried to push him off.”

“Show me,” I order. Not because I don’t believe her, but because I require a visual of this in my head. So I have something to tell the cops after I murder this man. “Is this how he did it?”Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

I reach across the center console and grab her by the forearm. Gentle but firm.

“He grabbed you like this?”

She nods meekly.

“And what did you do?”

With her free hand, Diana shoves my shoulder.

“And then he punched you in the face.” The rage bubbles up again. “That was his response to you pushing his shoulder?”

“Yes.”

There’s another beat.

“Why the fuck didn’t you go to the cops?”

She flinches.

I immediately collect my temper.

“I’m sorry. No, Dixon, I’m sorry. This isn’t on you. This is on him. I…” I hear my pulse thudding in my ears. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t report this. Why did you lie and say you got hurt at cheer camp?” She told me she took an elbow to the face, for chrissake.

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

Her voice cracks. So does a piece of my heart. I’ve never seen Diana look so destroyed. She sits in the passenger seat, completely stripped away of the confidence I’ve come to adore, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“That’s not who I am, okay?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I can take care of myself.” Her voice trembles wildly. “You heard the stories my dad told you. I’m the one who kicks people’s asses. I’m not the woman who gets hit by a man, all right? I didn’t report it because I can’t be that woman.”

“Baby.” I unbuckle my seat belt, then lean over to unbuckle hers. “Come here.”

“No.” She tries to twist away from me.

“Come here,” I repeat, reaching for her.

This time she doesn’t resist. She climbs into my lap and buries her face in my neck. We sit there in the dorm parking lot, and I hold her tight while barely restrained rage boils in my blood.

Diana straightens up, her tear-streaked face breaking my heart.

“I’m the strong one,” she mumbles. “I’m the unstoppable one, and some fucking asshole punched me on the sidewalk. I can’t go to the police.”

“Yes, you can. And you should,” I say firmly.

She bites her lower lip, which is still quivering.

“You have to, Dixon. You can’t let him get away with this, and I think deep down you want to report it.”

Moisture clings to her eyelashes again.

“You do. That’s why you saved this folder on your phone. You documented what he did and kept it because you knew you might need to use it. Actually, no, not might—you knew you should use it.”

Diana starts to cry again, shuddering in my arms. “I can’t go to the police. My dad is going to find out—”

“You’re right. He’ll find out. And once he knows what happened, he’ll probably be as murderous as I am. But he loves you. And he’ll know, just like I do, that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her teeth gnaw at her lip. “I provoked him.”

“You didn’t provoke him. You broke up with him and told him to leave you alone. He followed you to work and then assaulted you. That’s all you need to say to the cops. Trust me, no one is going to victim-blame or think you did anything to cause what happened.”

“His lawyer will if we go to court. Oh my God.” Panic lights her eyes. “I’m not going to court, Shane. I’m not fucking testifying.”

“I doubt it’ll even reach that point,” I assure her. “I guarantee you he’ll plea out.” I gesture to the phone I dropped in the cup holder. “You’ve got pictures. You’ve got texts. His own words admitting it. This is a slam dunk.”

“Sure, you say that now, and then suddenly the next year, or however long it’ll take, will be spent dealing with this.” She makes a desperate noise in the back of her throat. “I don’t want him in my life anymore.”

“I don’t want him in your life either.” I gently touch her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “But let me ask you this—do you want him to find a new girlfriend? Because what if his new girlfriend makes him mad and then he hits her and gives her a black eye?”

Something flashes in Diana’s eyes. I think it’s anger.

“Yes,” I urge. “Good. Be angry, baby.” She needs to be angry. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t invite this. You didn’t deserve this. And you need to report this. If you do, I promise I’ll go with you. I’ll drive you to the police station in Hastings right now, and I won’t leave your side.” I stroke her cheek. “And if you want, I’ll be there when you talk to your dad. But this isn’t something you can sweep under the rug and—”

I stop suddenly.

“What is it?” she says.

“This is why you wanted me to pretend to be your boyfriend when he showed up at Meadow Hill,” I realize, cursing softly. “You were scared of him.”

I inhale through my nose and try to ground myself because once again, if Percy were in front of me, I’d be ripping his throat out with my bare hands.

“You should have told me,” I say gruffly.

She avoids my gaze. “I was ashamed.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m the girl whose boyfriend hit her. It’s pathetic.”

“Diana, stop. I know this is coming from a place of emotion, but once you’re able to take a step back and look at it rationally, you’re going to realize that that’s not who you are. There is nothing pathetic about you and never will be.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise. And I promise to support whatever you decide to do, even if I disagree with it. With that said…” I grasp her chin to force eye contact. “Can I take you to the police station?”

Her mouth starts quivering again.

Then she nods.