I crossed the shop too quickly and grabbed the edge of the counter before my knees could give out.
You survived this already.
You survived worse.
The words repeated in my head over and over like something rehearsed.
Practiced.
Because they had to be.
Then Ace’s face flashed through my mind.
The way he stepped in front of me without hesitation.
The way he never looked back at me after the accusation.
Never once looked ashamed to stand beside me.
My chest tightened so hard it hurt.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
Because that part scared me most.
Not the man at the tavern.
Not the whispers.
Hope.
Hope was dangerous.
Hope made you trust things you shouldn’t.
I squeezed the counter harder.
“You know how this ends.”
The courtroom rose up in my memory before I could stop it.
The silence.
The reporters.
The hard wooden bench beneath me.
Nobody looking at me.
Not my neighbors.
Not my friends.
Not even my family.
Six years.
Six years and not one visit.
