This was the first step, I’d decided.

Friends—real friends—talked about things like this.

I still couldn’t face actually thinking about becoming more than that with Liam in any practical way, but I could tackle friendship. To do that, I had to open up, even if it was just small pieces at a time.

That was a piece.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

That was why I felt safe to open up that bit to Liam because he was the type of person that wouldn’t demand more from me if I wasn’t ready to give it. Which was the whole point here, wasn’t it?

“My father was an alcoholic,” I confessed. “When he was sober, he was an asshole. When he was drunk, it was worse.”

I watched from the corner of my eyes as Liam put the camera down, then came over to me. Without a word, he unrolled my shirt to cover me again. It was slow, each motion deliberate. If I was going to bare my soul, he was telling me I wasn’t going to be physically uncomfortable at the same time. When he was done, he grabbed a couple folding chairs from against one wall and set them up for us so that they were at a right angle to each other. He wouldn’t be beside me where I had to turn to see him, but he wasn’t right in my face either.

There were times over the last few weeks where I wondered if Liam missed his calling. Maybe he should have been a therapist or something.

It was only once we were both seated that he asked, “What does worse mean?”

“Abusive.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“When I was really young, my mother was always the target. I think he lost interest when she stopped reacting. She was like a zombie right up until the day she overdosed on pills. Suddenly, he needed someone else to take it out on. He learned his lesson, though. He couldn’t dish it all out all the time, that was how he’d broken her. So with me, he was careful. There were times he’d hit me a few times in a week, there were others he wouldn’t touch me for weeks at a time just to watch me jump every time he so much as moved.”

I looked down, picking at my nails. There was no way to talk about this without letting the memories creep in.

“What, you think I’m going to hit you, you little bitch?”

He was drinking. I couldn’t see what was in the dark cup, but I could smell it.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

I stood perfectly still. My flinch had made him angry. Maybe he wanted me to not move at all.

“You just gonna stand there?”

I… didn’t know. Moving felt like a trap. Standing still felt like it would make him angrier.

When I did nothing, his free hand balled into a fist, and I felt sick. I was shaking. I wanted to run, but last time that made it worse.

Suddenly, the cup he had was flying across the room. I ducked, unable to hold in the scream as it came toward me, then shattered on the wall behind where I just stood.

And him?

He laughed.

“How long did it go on?” Liam’s steady, though tense, voice brought me back.

“Until Joel found out after we started dating.”

“What the fuck is that?” Joel’s green eyes were all fire.

“It’s nothing,” I tried, but I knew it was a wasted effort.

When I’d gotten to school, I’d tried to avoid him, which had lasted two class periods before he tracked me down. Now, we were outside, having snuck out a door down a side hall at his insistence. I was supposed to be in Physics. Not that Mrs. Ensen cared who was there or not.

Joel had grabbed my arm. It wasn’t hard, but it was still enough to send a shock of pain through me when it landed on the fresh marks from the night before. He’d nearly pulled me out here, then yanked my sleeve up.

“You’re seriously going to tell me that shit is nothing?”

This was what I’d been afraid of. Even once he had me convinced me he didn’t just want a quick fuck, I had no idea how I was going to tackle this.

“Joel,” I went for placating.

“Babe, you’re cute as fuck and you know I’ll do just about anything you ask, but do not try to avoid this. You have no clue how close to the edge I am right now.”

I did, though. Joel could be on edge, but I’d never seen him outright pissed. It was… terrifying.

“I…”

I froze.

“Kate,” Joel snapped again, impatient.

I couldn’t speak.

“Katie?”

The clouds were clearing, just a bit. Those little cracks that let rays of light through. Those were my favorite. When I could see them through the windows, they gave me something to focus on. I’d watch the movements of those beams of light. It’s what made nights so hard. There weren’t any unless the moon was very bright.

The touch on my upper arm made me jump. I flew backward, out of reach, and hit the brick wall. The contact with the bruise on my back felt like being kicked all over again.

I needed to go. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Warm hands settled on my cheeks. They were gentle, familiar.

“Katie, look at me.”

Joel?

The panic started to clear, and I remembered where I was. I was with Joel, not my father. And he didn’t look angry anymore.

No, the more he came into focus in front of me, the more I realized that wasn’t true. He was still angry, it was there, volatile as ever beneath the surface, it was just covered by his concern.

“You’re scaring me.”

He said that. I was scaring him because I was freaking out and he didn’t understand why. He was scared because something was hurting me and he didn’t know what or how to stop it. I never wanted to scare anyone. I knew what it was like to be scared.

“I’m sorry.”

His head came down, our foreheads meeting. His eyes were closed tight, like he was in pain. I knew pain, too. I didn’t want that for him.

I watched him as he held us there, mimicking the pattern of his breaths until my heart stopped racing. That urge to run cooled and I was left chilled to the point that I was shaking. Joel’s hold left my face, and his arms wrapped around me. It was lighter than he’d ever held me, and I knew he was afraid of hurting me again.

“Please talk to me.” I’d never heard him beg.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, burrowing into him like it could make the rest of this disappear.

“Katie, please.”

“He hits me,” I confessed into the shelter he made for me.

“Your dad?”

I nodded.

“Fuck!” he shouted the word, the sound harsh enough to make me flinch despite myself. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Joel—”

“I’m fucking serious. I’ll destroy that asshole for putting his hands on you.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“What about Johnny? What happens to him if you get put in prison? What happens to me?” I demanded. He wouldn’t abandon his little brother, I knew it without a doubt.

“Then we report it. Get his ass thrown in jail.”

I sighed. Joel was all about action. He went with his gut, always. We were still kids, I knew that. It might be something he grew out of, but it hadn’t happened yet.

“If he went to prison—if, Joel, because reporting him is not a guarantee—where does that leave me? I could try to get emancipated, and then I’m on my own. I’d have to drop out to work enough to pay rent. Or I’d go into the system, and God knows where I’d end up or with who. I’ve got an uncle that gives me the fucking creeps. Maybe he jumps in and offers to take me and the court thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Fuck.”

He was getting it now. Maybe if I called the police, it’d all turn out. I’d get out of that house, be placed somewhere halfway decent, and escape the hell I was in. Or maybe I’d just end up somewhere worse, somewhere where the hurt took a different form, and it would break me.

“This is the devil, I know.”

He leaned back to look at me, his eyes working with a rage that made me nervous for a new reason.

“Not for long.”

I tried to grab him as he turned away, tried to chase him when he took off, but he was faster. When he got to the parking lot, there was nothing I could do but watch him speed off. I didn’t have a car. I had no way to go after him.

Terrified that I’d just destroyed his life, I forced myself to go back inside.

When I met Johnny outside the building at the end of the day, he knew something was up right away. I didn’t know if it was in my expression, or if it was just that Joel wasn’t at my side.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded right away.

“I…” What could I tell him? That I was the reason Joel could be arrested? That we could both lose him?

“Nothing,” came a clipped response for me. Joel was there, approaching from the lot. He still looked pissed, every muscle taut, his jaw clenched. When he stepped close to me and cradled one cheek, he did it with a soft touch. “It’s taken care of,” he told me low.

I bit down on my lip to keep it from trembling.

“He won’t touch you again,” Joel vowed.

I shook away the memory. “He beat the shit out of my father,” I told Liam. “The same day he found out it was happening, he went there and beat him until the man was bedridden for days.”

“Good,” he responded.

I hadn’t thought it was good, not at first. I’d clung to Joel for a week straight, terrified my father was going to go to the police. I barely slept, too scared of the retribution that might be awaiting me. It was only when the lack of sleep was wearing on me to the point that I was getting sick that Joel took me to meet his neighbor.

“Doc helped him,” I went on. “He was their neighbor, and Daz was close with him already then. Joel knew the type of guy Doc was, so he went to him with it. I don’t know what happened, but Doc assured me that my father would never lay another finger on me. He was right. Two years later, Joel and I graduated and left. I never saw my father again.”

“He saved you,” Liam surmised.

“Yes. He had a habit of it. He’d always been ready to put himself on the line for me.”

Liam understood now as well as anyone just how far that went, and what it had cost.

“I’m glad.” I understood all of what he meant. He was glad Joel had defended me, and he was glad that I’d had a man that loved me deeply enough to do so. Even though that love was part of the reason I was closed off now, Liam was honestly happy that I’d had that.

He didn’t say anything else, and I liked that. I didn’t need placations or apologies for the hand I was dealt when I was younger. Those days were a long time ago, and I had worked through the lingering issues they caused. Joel had helped me let those things go. Now, it was all just a part of my past. It influenced me, but as much for how Joel had freed me from it as for the scars it left behind.

“I’m going to be gone for a couple days,” I eventually said.

“Why?”

I wrung my hands together. “It’ll be three years on Wednesday. Daz and I go to Colorado each year to visit.”

“That’s beautiful.”

Maybe. It always just felt painful.

“I don’t think I can…” I trailed off, unsure of how to tell him I wasn’t comfortable talking to him while I flew back to visit my late husband’s resting place.

“You need some time,” he surmised anyway.

“Yes.”

He pulled one hand from the fidgeting mess, taking my attention.

“I understand, gypsy. You need this time to be about him. I’d never be upset about that. I’ll be here, you do what you need to for you. Okay?”

God, I really wasn’t sure I deserved how patient he was with me. I hoped he didn’t eventually regret it.

“Okay.”