Page 28 of Hotshot

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“What you think you saw,” I countered. “Did you ever confront your dad?”

“No. I think it was pretty obvious what happened.”

“Maybe. But you should know from the law—eyewitnesses aren’t always accurate.”

“Whatever.” She glanced away and used the sleeve of her robe to wipe her tears. “It’s fine. You don’t have to believe me.”

We sat in silent contemplation a moment before it hit me—before her words hit me. I’d totally discounted her experience. I’d done to her what so many people had done to me when I was younger, mostly because I didn’t want to face the fact that Scott might have lied, cheated, betrayed the people he loved. And damn if that didn’t make me a hypocrite.

“Hey.” I softened my tone, regret coursing through me. “I’m sorry. I, of all people, should know better than to gaslight you.”

She blinked at me, and I wanted to laugh at her owlish expression. Milk-chocolate eyes that shone from her tears, skin pink from crying—she looked beautiful.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m just—wow. Thank you. I’m impressed that you not only acknowledged the fact that you downplayed my experience, but also used the correct term for it.”

“Because I’m a dumb shit from nowhere.”

“I didn’t say that. You did. Now, do you want to tell me why you’re always so quick to assume that everyone is thinking the worst of you?”

“Aren’t you?” I studied her expression, the subtle flicker of emotion in her eyes.

“No.” She huffed. “And I’m sorry if it comes across that way. I just—” She rolled to face me, tucking her hand beneath her pillow. “I don’t know what to think when it comes to you. You’re confusing.”

I chuckled, thinking it was one of the most honest things she’d said to me. “How so?”

“I don’t know. Just forget it, okay?” She shifted onto her back.

“Audrey,” I said after a while, mostly because I wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for what you went through with your family, but your dad—he gave me a second chance when everyone else had given up on me. And while he may not have been perfect, he was…” I swallowed back a lump of emotion. “He was like a father to me. He helped me understand that I was a victim of gaslighting. Had been for most of my life.”

I drew in a shuddering breath, pushing back the memories this topic brought to life. My mom’s boyfriend, who’d seemed like the perfect guy—stable job, nice house, All-American dad. The monster in plain sight. I gripped the edge of the mattress.

“Ethan?” Her hand slid over mine, the softness of her skin bringing me back to the present moment.

“I won’t get into the details. But I was… My mom’s boyfriend at the time, Alan, sexually abused me as a child.”

She squeezed my hand. “My god. I’m so sorry.”

I lifted a shoulder, surprised I was telling her all of this. “He fucked with my head. Confused me. And I started to act out, get into fights at school. One day, I lost it. A kid at school was taunting me, calling me gay and stupid shit.” I blew out a breath, anger coursing through me. “I was afraid he was right. I was afraid that the fact that I got hard when Alan touched me meant I was gay. I know now I’m not, and there’s nothing wrong with being gay. But…”

“You didn’t want to believe that of yourself. Because then it would mean you enjoyed what Alan was doing.”

I nodded, wondering how she was able to understand that distinction so easily and clearly. “Yeah. Well, I beat the shit out of the kid. I’m not proud of my actions, but at least something good came out of it eventually.”

“Fire camp?” she asked.

I shook my head, unable to stop now that I’d started. “Your dad. He was assigned to my case, and over time, he helped me realize that I was a survivor. He helped me overcome my anger, my past. He saw my potential, and he was the one—the only one—who advocated for me. He pushed for me to get into fire camp.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “I had no idea.”

“I wasn’t the only one he helped. Your dad took on a lot of pro bono cases. And despite what he may or may not have done to your family, I hope you can celebrate his legacy.”

“I’d like to.” Her eyes glossed over. “I’d always hoped to use my law degree to help others.”