Declan wasn’t in the waiting room, and I didn’t know how to get past security to get to Trevor’s room. So, I stood there and tried to think of the right thing to do, my arms wrapped tightly around myself to stave off the cold.

When I felt a hand touch my shoulder, I flinched and spun around, hoping the warmth was Declan’s.

I let out a sigh when I saw my mom’s face instead of his. “I told you I’d be fine.”

“And I knew you would be. But I still want to be here.” She glanced around the room and quickly seemed to understand why I hadn’t made it any farther. With her arm tucked around my waist and with me too confused to shove her away, she walked us both up to the reception desk.

“Excuse me,” she called to the woman behind the security glass. “My stepson is here. I need to see him.”

“What’s your stepson’s name?” the woman asked.

My mom’s eyes hinted that I should play along before covering her mouth and pretending to be overcome with emotion.

“His name is Trevor,” I said quickly. “Trevor Finley. They said he came in a couple hours ago.”

My mom winked at me as the woman typed Trevor’s name into her computer. The first time we worked together on anything, and it was probably some kind of crime.

The woman told us where to go and buzzed us through.

As soon as we were out of earshot, I asked her why she’d lied.

“They would never have let us back if we weren’t family,” she explained. “And since I’m his ‘stepmom,’ I won’t be expected to know his medical history or insurance information if they ask.”

“Should I ask why all of that occurred to you thirty seconds after you walked into the waiting room?”

“I was triple the wild child you’ve ever been, hon.” She grinned. “It never goes away completely.”

She stepped back when we got to Trevor’s room, giving me space as I knocked on the wall just outside of it.

“Trevor? Can I come in?” When no one answered, I slid back the curtain nervously and took a few steps toward him.

Trevor was lying there alone with the machines tracking his vitals and whatever else they did. His eyes were closed, and without his normal bluster, smile, and joie du vive, I barely recognized him.

“Oh, the poor boy,” my mom said from behind me. I’d almost forgotten she was here. “Is there anything I can do, Sara?”

“I don’t know.” I wasn’t sure what I could do. Other than stand there and stare at him, frozen both in action and in temperature and wishing Declan’s incredible warmth were here.

She brushed by me and went to Trevor’s bedside, wiping a lock of hair off his forehead. “What did you get yourself into, kid?” She gently adjusted a pillow behind his head and pulled the blanket up higher on his chest. When she looked up at me, her eyes were shining.

Why did she care so much about someone she’d never met before? Just because he was important to me?

“Do you know if they’ve contacted his parents?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think they get along very well.”

“Even so, I’m sure they’d want to be here for him.” She nodded resolutely and patted his arm. “I’m going to go find out what I can, Trevor. Try not to upset my daughter too much if you can help it, would you?”

I stepped out of her way when she started to leave.

As soon as she passed me, she stopped, put her hand on my shoulder, and squeezed gently. “Sara?” She paused a moment. “I think you should press charges on your stepbrother.” As shocking as the comment was, it was too little, too late. For a lot of reasons.

I shook my head. “I can’t. I don’t have any proof. No one would believe me.” Thankfully, I hadn’t turned to look at her before I finished my thought, part of me afraid to see her reaction, and part of me afraid she wouldn’t react.

“Because I didn’t?”

I didn’t need to look at her to hear the tears in her voice.

“Cal, he… He was never in a bar fight, was he?”

I shook my head slowly, remembering with very little satisfaction the only thing I’d done to help myself that night, something I hadn’t even realized I’d done until the next day. Until my mom asked me if I’d been at the same club Cal had and if I’d seen the brawl that had left him with a split lip and a couple of deep scratches near his left eye.

When all I’d managed to answer with was a shrug, she’d flipped out, shouting something about how I could be so uncaring when my stepbrother could’ve really been hurt, and somehow I was lucky that he’d only gotten a split lip. I didn’t even have the energy to laugh at the irony.

Even if he hadn’t made up the whole bar fight lie to cover up what he’d done to me, how could it be my fault for not caring enough about his safety? I’d never wanted a brother or a stepdad. I’d never wanted any of it. My mom was the one who’d needed it. Someone to take care of her, be living proof she was still attractive and could land a quality man. And she was the one who couldn’t let go of it when I told her the truth.

The bloody lip and scratches I’d given Cal had taken over a week to heal. I did everything I could not to see him after that night, but about a week afterwards, he’d come over to pick up something from his father. He’d acted as if nothing had happened.

When my mom had held his face in her hands and examined the injury from that awful bar fight, he’d glanced at me, looking to see how I’d react, I guess. Then she’d touched his lip.

Cal had howled in pain, and I’d felt a moment of pride. Although, it might have been more than a moment, because that night I’d tried to tell my mom what he’d done to me. Of course, any pride I had left disappeared as soon as she asked me why I would say something so hateful about my stepbrother when he’d never done anything to deserve it.

“‘He’s never done anything to deserve it,’” I mumbled. “That’s what you said to me.”

“Oh, Sara.”

When I looked at her, I saw the tears welled up in her eyes, and I almost felt sorry for her. I didn’t want to see her cry. I didn’t want anyone to cry. But I was done pretending not to hurt or thinking that it was easier to protect myself if I were invisible. My silence hadn’t made anything easier. It had just taken away the trust I’d had in the people I loved.

“The only reason I would say something so hateful about him was because I was jealous. Right? I would tell my mother I’d been raped with tears running down my face”—like hers were doing now—“because I was jealous. Because I wanted attention. You believed him then, and you believe him now. You think that Declan and I are the ones dealing drugs, even though Cal is constantly sniffling and carrying around big rolls of cash.”

“You’re right. I’m so sorry for not believing you, honey. I can’t… I’m so, so sorry.”

I hadn’t thought about this moment—what I would say if she ever asked me for forgiveness. I’d never really imagined it would happen. I’d thought I had healed and moved on, a little wiser and a lot less trusting.

I’d spent the last year thinking that to feel whole again I needed to confront Cal. I was wrong. There was no way for me to really move on and start trusting people again until I knew my mom believed me.

And while I’d been so busy coping badly, I’d almost missed out on something amazing with someone amazing. If Declan hadn’t been so patient, so stubborn, I would’ve kept thinking I could go on like I had been indefinitely. Being invisible, sharing only the pieces of myself that couldn’t be hurt, that didn’t feel pain, disappointment, or shame. Those parts I’d kept for myself and no one else, not even the people who loved me. Especially not anyone who loved me. Because they were the most dangerous.

The cruelty of a stranger meant nothing. The betrayal of a loved one had left me with nothing.

“What can I do, Sara? What can I say?”

I took a box of cheap tissues from an equipment cart and handed it to her. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

I glanced at Trevor, feeling guilty this was all happening in front of him, even while he was unconscious. If he could still hear, he probably didn’t want to wake up. At least not until we’d left the room.

“All I know is that I’m not ready to forgive you right now,” I said. “I need to focus on helping someone I care about. Two people I care about. Because while I may not be able to do anything for them, I need to try. And in order to do that, I can’t think about myself right now.”

She nodded, most of her face hidden by a tissue.

“But once I know they’re okay, I’d like for us to talk.”

“I’d like that.” The corners of her eyes wrinkled as if she were smiling, but her tears flowed double time. “I’d like that very much.”