Page 198 of His Reckoning

The question sits heavily between us.

I stare at the floor for a second before I get the courage to look back up at him.

For the second time … I make a decision I don’t usually make.

I let someone in.

“My uncle,” I say quietly.

Dean doesn’t interrupt, nor does he react. He just listens.

“He used to … lose it on me.” The words feel rough, coming out. “Started when I was fifteen.”

Dean’s expression tightens slightly, but he stays quiet.

So, I keep going. Because now that it’s started, I can’t really stop.

“He ran the kitchen at the restaurant,” I continue. “Dad trusted him. Everyone did.”

I let out a slow breath. “We’d stay late. Just the two of us.”

Dean shifts his weight slightly.

“He didn’t like that I didn’t want to stay and help him grow the business,” I say. “That I had other plans.”

My jaw tightens. “At first, it was just shoving. Getting in my face. Telling me I thought I was better than him.”

Dean exhales quietly.

“Then it got worse.”

I don’t look at him. I don’t need to. I can feel the shift in the room.

“He’d lose it over nothing,” I continue. “Throw me into things. Hit me.”

The words come easier now. I feel detached, like I’m talking about someone else.

“Burned me once,” I add. “Had a cigarette in his hand.”

Dean’s head snaps slightly, but he still doesn’t interrupt.

“Slashed me with a knife one time. Not deep. Just enough,” I continue. “He died before I ever told anyone,” I finish. “Heart attack. My first year of college.”

Dean finally speaks. “Jesus, Sawyer.”

I let out a humorless breath. “Yeah.”

I push off the wall and walk a few steps away, like I need distance from my own words.

“Went to the funeral,” I add. “Listened to everyone talk about what a great guy he was.”

Dean swears under his breath.

I shrug. “Didn’t matter by then.”

Another silence settles, but this one feels different, less heavy.

Dean steps closer. “Does your family know?”