I turn to Charlene’s mom. “Can you tell me what just happened? Was that Charlene’s father?”

“I suppose he functioned as one during her childhood, but no. That’s my . . . ex for lack of better terminology, but it’s a long story.” She glances around and wrings her hands nervously. “One I’m assuming Charlene hasn’t shared with any of you.”

I shake my head, and there’s a murmur of agreement from everyone else. I look to Violet, almost relieved that she seems to be similarly shocked, and swallow down the huge lump in my throat as I try to process what happened. I need to understand a lot of things right now, starting with what Charlene’s childhood actually looked like, because the picture she painted for me wasn’t this.

I make a move toward her, wanting to . . . I don’t know, understand? Comfort her? I need something, anything to replace the strange state of disbelief I’m currently suspended in.

Alex puts a palm on my chest. “Look at your hands.”

I cringe at the blood coating my knuckles. “Fuck.”

“We’ll get her inside and keep her safe until you’ve cleaned up and calmed down,” Alex says.

Charlene’s mom helps her up and wraps a protective arm around her, and all I can do is watch as the woman I’m in love with, but don’t even know, walks away without looking back.

DARREN

Lance looks at me, lips pressed into a thin line. He puts a hand on my shoulder, his expression almost piteous. “This makes our parents look like they should be up for family of the year award, aye?”

I don’t know much about Lance’s family situation, other than the fact that he doesn’t have a relationship with his mother and he only sees his father once a year at most. But based on his history with women, I can certainly make an experienced guess. Porn star parents and being raised by grandparents who were determined to eradicate the inherited perversion out of me seems pretty decent in comparison to what I now suspect Charlene went through.

And now my mind is reeling out of control. I want to hunt that fucker down and torture him in ways that would make horror movies look like they were produced by Disney.

I feel almost like I’m walking through a fog as Lance takes me to the pool house bathroom to wash up and throw on a shirt. I don’t pay attention to much as I head for the house, feeling exposed and uneasy.

Violet meets me at the door, her face pale and eyes wide with the kind of disbelief that makes a stomach turn. “I had no idea. Not about any of this. I mean, I knew she grew up in a trailer park and it was bad, but I didn’t realize it was this kind of bad.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to make me feel better or not,” I tell her.

“I’m sorry, Darren. If it’s any consolation, we’re all as shocked as you are.”

“It isn’t, but thanks.”

“There’s obviously a reason she didn’t tell anyone, including you and me.” Violet gives me a sad smile. “Alex and I are going to send everyone home. She’s in the living room with her mom.”

“Okay.”

I don’t know what to do with any of this. It explains everything and nothing at the same time. And even though I should probably be angry, all I am is sad that I wasn’t safe enough to confide in.

Before I cross the threshold, her mom appears in the doorway.

“I need to ask you something before I talk to Charlene,” I say in a hoarse whisper.

“Of course. I’ll answer if I’m able, but this is Charlene’s story to tell.”

I nod and take a deep breath, my stomach rolling. “Did anyone ever—” I swallow down the bile. I don’t know that I’ll be able to refrain from killing Frank if the answer is yes. “Did Frank—was she ever in physical danger?”

“Oh, Darren.” She settles a palm on my forearm and shakes her head. “Her childhood was a lot of messed-up things, but it wasn’t that. I got us out before she was ever at risk.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting against the sting behind my eyes and the tightness in my throat. “Okay. That’s good.”

She hugs me, and I stiffen for a moment, not expecting the embrace. But I accept it anyway, because for some reason knowing Charlene’s innocence was kept intact makes me feel marginally better.

Her mom steps back and looks up at me. For being as small as she is, she certainly has a dominating presence, so I can see how she ended up where she did. Sort of.

She tips her head to the side. “Does she know?”

I frown. “Know what?”

Her smile is soft. “That you love her.”

“I’m afraid I’ll push her away if I’m honest with her.”

She pats my cheek. “You’re quite perfect for each other, despite the odds.”

I find Charlene curled up in the corner of the couch, having changed into one of the new outfits she unwrapped this afternoon. It’s a Chicago T-shirt with her first name on the back, because I avoid using her last name whenever possible, and the number twenty-six, since it’s her birthday. I like that it’s also my number. Despite how warm it still is, she’s also wearing leggings.

She looks up when I enter the room, her eyes wary and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I guarantee it’ll be chewed raw by the end of the day if it isn’t already.

“Are you okay?” I ask, advancing slowly, as if I expect her to bolt. She certainly looks like she wants to.

She lifts her shoulder and lets it fall. “Are you?”

“Not particularly, no.” I’m a lot of things at the moment, but okay is definitely not one of them.

She bows her head and raises her hand to her bare throat, but drops it right away when there’s nothing to fidget with. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I want to rewind time and make us both different, not two irreparably damaged people trying to figure out how to be together without imploding.

“I should’ve told you,” she whispers.

“Were you ever planning to?” I let her into all my darkness, but it hasn’t been willingly. She’s had to drag it out, and now I’ll have to do the same with her.

She sighs and focuses on her hands. She’s holding something, rolling it between her palms. “I wanted to. I was going to, especially after I found out about your parents. But it seemed like too much all at once, and trying to explain . . . I thought I could wait until after playoffs were over, but then with the expansion draft still looming, there was always a reason to wait. I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what?”

“Losing you before I had to.”

“Why would you think you’d lose me?”

She looks up, her expression guarded. “Nothing about me is normal, Darren. My childhood was messy and fucked up.”

“I’m just as messy and fucked up. I thought we’d already established that.”

Charlene scrubs a hand over her face. “I know, but my mom’s already so much crazy—I didn’t know if you could handle any more. I mean, who raises their child in a commune and thinks it’s okay? And not just any commune, but a batshit crazy one where women are treated like property. The whole thing is like a bad talk show episode.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t be able to handle it?”

She sighs. “It wasn’t you specifically. I’ve never told anyone, ever. We never talked about it after we left. It was like . . .” She pauses, maybe searching for the words. “It was all a terrible nightmare. My mom told me not to say anything because we didn’t want Frank to find us and bring us back there.”

She runs her hands up and down her legs. “I remember the night we ran. My mom woke me up in the middle of the night, and we escaped through a hole in the barbed-wire fence.”

“Barbed-wire fence?” It sounds more like prison than a home.

“Yeah, it was meant to keep the bad guys out. Anyway, there was a car waiting for us down the road. I had to hotwire it because she was too panicked to find the key. I didn’t even know what we were running from at the time.”

Her eyes are the kind of haunted I associate with old memories made new again.

“We drove for hours before we finally stopped at a little diner somewhere in Nebraska. I’d never been to a restaurant, never seen a TV before, never shopped in a grocery store, never even worn a pair of pants, Darren. It was such a shock to realize the world was so much bigger than what I knew. It was too much to process. I don’t remember it clearly at all—more like it was some messed-up recurring dream. And reliving it, trying to explain it . . . My extremes were the opposite of yours, Darren. I went from isolation to inclusion so quickly it was impossible to reconcile.”