Maggie licked her lips. They were dry. Linnie wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t thought about a thousand times before. But it was disconcerting, hearing someone else speak her thoughts. No, not just that. Also hearing someone talk openly about … rape.

I know something similar happened to you, I know something similar happened to you, I know something similar happened to you. Rape was the something-similar-that-happened-to-you. Unutterable. Taboo. Secrecy hid rape, and it wasn’t right, just as it wasn’t right that people didn’t mention the aggressor when they talked about sexual assault. So, yeah, Maggie understood what Linnie was saying. And Maggie understood that her own silence and shame were problematic. She hadn’t earned the shame. She didn’t deserve it. It was the reaction that played into the hands of people who wanted to spread the blame around, who wanted to know what the victim wore and how much she drank. It made her angry with herself—ashamed of her shame. She thought about this and swallowed a perverse impulse to laugh. Oh God, too many layers of shame.

“… sexist bullshit,” Linnie was saying. “I wouldn’t warn Sam, ‘Button up your shirt, buddy, and stop pounding the shots, before you get raped.’” She harrumphed, crossed her arms, and fell silent.

Maggie braked at the Redman and Ridge intersection and struggled to organize her chaotic thoughts. When the light changed, she stepped hard on the gas. After a moment, she felt calmer, more clearheaded. “It’s not like I disagree,” she said quietly. “I don’t at all. But hating the double standard doesn’t make it disappear.”

“Ha.” Linnie sagged and closed her eyes. She looked abruptly deflated. Defeated. “You’ll never make it disappear,” she said. “The world has stupid rules.”

“We need to change them.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Well, I want to change them.” She did. Or at least, she had. Coming forward last spring was proof of that.

Linnie grunted a laugh.

Maggie frowned. “Anyway, ignoring reality isn’t a smart way to go about changing it. You shouldn’t ignore it, either. Someone could have hurt you tonight.”

Linnie opened her eyes. “At Caleb’s? Not at Caleb’s. Those guys are decent.”

Maggie gave her a skeptical glance. “You sure about that?”

“I refuse to believe every guy is just waiting for a chance to pounce. That’s a myth, too.”

A myth. But then, Maggie had never expected Matt Dawson to do what he had done.

“Your head’s stuck in Carlton.”

She flared her hands against the wheel. What Linnie said was true. That didn’t mean Maggie liked hearing it.

“Those guys are friends. And that was hardly some frat party. They served a unicorn cake.” She smiled a little. “I mean, come on. A unicorn.”

Still. “You should…” Act more responsible. “Be careful. What happened to me could happen to you.”

“It wouldn’t.”

“It could.”