When I attempt to open my eyes, the sunlight stings like Darth Vader’s trying to pry my eyelids apart with his lightsaber and I can only manage a squint. It feels like I’ve been trapped in darkness for years, when in reality, it was probably only a few minutes.

Blinking through the pain, I make out a figure surrounded by a beautiful, shimmering, golden halo. I’m fairly certain I’m not dead, so it’s not some kind of angel in the religious sense. Erik Raines, our longtime landscaper, kneels next me, rubbing his large, strong hands up and down my arms, as if trying to warm me. That’s when I realize I’m shivering uncontrollably.

The sudden, intense urge to puke takes over. I squeeze my eyes closed and roll onto my side, my body jerking as it expels water. My throat is on fire—raw and scratchy, like the morning after my college graduation when I downed way too many cinnamon-whiskey shots.

Erik’s relieved whisper of, “Oh, thank god!” brings me back to reality. Once the coughing fit lets up, I roll onto my back and take a deep breath.

“You’re here? You’re with me?” he asks. Water drips from the tip of his nose onto my chest.

I nod, wondering what in the world happened.

“I’m going to lift you up, okay? I’m going to carry you to the house and get some help.”

“No!” I croak, grabbing the collar of his soaked, white T-shirt.

Terror fuels my panic as the memory of what happened and why I’m lying next to our pool, soaking wet with Erik next to me, floods my brain. I look from side to side quickly, frantically searching for Trent. My heart pounds so fast, I think it might explode.

“How could you do this to me, Madeline?”

I hear Trent before I see him—which is usually how it goes. His angry voice booms as he moves closer and closer. I grip the phone as every muscle in my body starts to tense up. My sister, Liz, is on the other end; I should say something, but I’ve never told anyone about how much Trent scares me. Instead, I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what I could have done to make him angry this time. It’s always something.

“Maddie?” Liz asks. “Madeline?”

“How could you fucking do this to me?” He’s next to me now. His dark brown eyes filled with rage and fixed on me.

My voice shakes when I answer, “Do what, Trent? I—”

He raises his hand and I cringe, cowering in fear as he bats the phone out of my hand. My heart races, and tears spring to my eyes as it smashes against the wrought-iron table, screen shattering before it bounces into the pool. When I turn back to him, I can’t meet his eyes. I never can. Looking at him when he’s this angry is a direct challenge and it never turns out good for me.

“I’m sick of you disrespecting me,” he snarls. “I thought you were going to dinner with girlfriends last night?”

“I did.”

“Then why did I get multiple phone calls saying you were out with another man?”

The muscles in my legs tighten as my flight response kicks in. Nothing I say will quell his rage—even if it’s the truth.

“I went out with Lucy and Mary Hill, Trent. Lucy saw one of her colleagues from the hospital and invited him over to talk. I knew him, too, so we all chatted for a few minutes, then he went back to his friends. That’s it.”

“Do you know how that looks for me? You openly flirting with other men?”

“I wasn’t flirt—” I shake my head, denying his accusation. But Trent grabs me by the forearms, his fingers squeezing my skin, silencing me.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how you conducted yourself when I was in DC, but I’m here now and it needs to stop,” he says through clenched teeth. His eyebrows furrow and he squeezes my arms even tighter. “I won’t be publicly embarrassed because my girlfriend acts like a slut.”

He shoves me hard. I pedal backward, losing my balance on the slippery tile, and fall into the pool. My head hits the edge and everything goes black.

“You’re okay now, Maddie. I’m here. I’ve got you,” Erik says, pulling me into his chest and clutching me tight. Instinctively, I return the embrace and allow him to hold me until my heartbeat returns to normal speed. Outside of my father’s, Erik’s arms are the only ones I’ve ever felt safe in.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod.

“Hold on,” he commands, then lifts me up and stands in one quick motion.

Good lord, he’s strong! I don’t know any weight-lifting terms, but he just squat-lifted one hundred and thirty pounds.

Too exhausted to argue, I slide my arms around his neck and let him carry me. His heart beats rapidly against my cheek as he rushes me to the house.

He doesn’t knock, just throws open the French doors to our sunroom and walks right in.

“Erik!” Mama snaps. She tosses a kitchen towel on the counter. Her angry tone changes to concern when she sees me in his arms. “What’s going on? What happened?”

I didn’t realize anyone else was home. I’d slipped into the backyard earlier to hang out by the pool without walking through the house. It had been a stressful day at work and I just wanted peace and quiet—and sunshine. Sunshine always recharges me.

“I fell—” I start to answer Mom, but Erik interrupts me.

“You didn’t fall. Your boyfriend pushed you into the pool,” he states firmly.

“Excuse me?” Mama turns to Erik, her eyes narrowing as if he’d said something completely outlandish.

It sure as heck seemed completely outlandish.

“It was an accident,” I correct him, lifting my head from his chest. “I lost my balance and fell into the pool. I was swimming back up when Erik jumped in. He was really quick.”

Erik tilts his head, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. It doesn’t matter. I’m not willing to change my story, no matter how large his eyes get.

I’ll never admit Trent pushed me. I’ve never told Mama about any other time he put his hands on me, and I’m not about to start now. I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut about things that could damage his reputation—and mine.

That’s the interesting thing about memories. They can be manipulated easily. If you stick to a story about the way things happened, it becomes reality.

“That’s absolute bullshit!” Erik says.

“You are completely out of line right now,” Mama says, giving him an icy glare. She points to the floor. “Now put my daughter down.”

I swallow back shame. I don’t want to tell her the truth about the situation, but I also don’t want her getting angry with Erik. He saved my life.

Had I not hit my head on the edge of the pool, it wouldn’t have been that bad. I could have swum to the top and gotten myself out. But that tiled edge did me in. Slippery when wet. Inflexible and unyielding when a skull smashes against it.

Once I hit that, I must’ve blacked out because I don’t remember anything else except being on the ground next to the pool, and seeing Erik’s face when my eyes flashed open.

He leans over and gently places me down on the large, white, wicker sofa in our sunroom which is just off the kitchen. My back sinks into the soft cushions. I rest my pounding head gingerly against the back cushion.

“Thank you,” I whisper to him. “I’ll never forget this.”

“Meet me in thirty minutes.” He starts to stand, but pauses to look directly in my eyes, murmuring, “and please tell your mother the truth.”

I look away, unable to agree to either.

I know exactly where he wants me to meet him. Under the huge black walnut tree in the backyard. The trunk is so wide we can sit practically unseen—at least, we could when we were younger. We’re both significantly larger than we were then, but even now, the tree would still conceal us. It helps that it’s located in the very back of the property, behind a maze of hedges, thanks to Mama’s request that our yard resemble an English garden.

We’ve been meeting there since we were both thirteen. That’s when Erik started working in his grandfather’s landscaping crew. After a few weeks, we began an unusual friendship. He became my confidant—the person whom I could tell anything to. Since we don’t have any of the same friends and little contact with each other outside of my parents’ yard, talking to him always felt safe.

Instead of answering him, I twist the diamond solitaire pendant between my fingers. Trent gave me the necklace a few months ago, during dinner with his family. Earlier that morning, he’d shoved me hard into one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that span my high-rise condo. When my forehead slammed against the glass, it busted open the skin at the hairline over my right eye, creating a nasty gash.

I’ve kept the memory repressed—locked away in the deepest corner of my mind. One I’d refused to open. Not only because no one would believe me if I told them Trent hurt me, but also because there are far too many business ties between our families. To accuse him of any kind of abuse would open up Pandora’s box of problems for me. All too often, I’ve seen the victim blamed for bringing light to problems, rather than the perpetrator blamed for creating them. I’d lose my job—and that would only be the beginning.

But today, Erik opened the box, allowing the memories hidden in the depth of my mind to float to the surface. Now they’re pounding to get out—literally. My head is killing me.

He gives me a long, hard look before he stands, as if trying to convey how much he wants me to come clean. “I’ll get back to work now,” he says once he’s upright.

‘“Yes. Thank you,” Mama says pointedly. Then, she lifts a finger as if remembering something, and adds, “Oh, Erik! Let me walk out with you. I want to talk with you about the Darcey roses.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He holds the door open, allowing Mama to exit before he does. I watch him walk out, the soaked T-shirt clinging to his muscular chest as he begins to close the French doors. He shifts his gaze to me, as if he knows I’m watching him, then shakes his head in disappointment before shutting them completely.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and let out a deep breath, mentally chastising myself for not telling Mama the truth. This was my chance to let it all out. All the frustration and anger and fear I’ve had while dating Trent over the last few years. His temper—and subsequent physical reactions—have had me constantly vigilant about who I hang out with and what events I attend. Constantly having to think about how I conduct myself in social situations and what I’m going to say and how to say it before speaking has been exhausting.

I’ve always been strong-willed, independent, and active in the community. My sisters gave me the nickname “Mayor Maddie” when I was a little girl because I’ll talk to anyone breathing. I may seem flirty, but I’m just nice to everyone. I’ve always conducted myself with the utmost respect for who I’m dating, but with Trent, I’ve had to think about everything I do so as not to make him angry.

Today, I had a witness to him putting his hands on me. Today was the first time Trent slipped up in front of someone. Although, to be fair, he didn’t know Erik was around.

But I knew Erik was watching. He’s been keeping an eye on me for years. How do I know? Because I’ve been watching him too.