Page 95 of Dreamscape Therapies

“Trent,” I say evenly, “you need to leave.”

“Don't you dare tell me what to do!” His voice climbs another octave. “You don't get to control me anymore!”

“I never controlled you.”

“LIAR!” The word cracks across the room, loud enough to make a few people flinch. “You grew that disgusting beard just to spite me because you knew I hated facial hair! And Dany was the only person who understood me, and you couldn't stand that, could you? You had to ruin that too!”

Of all the things he could have brought up, the beard wasn't exactly what I expected.

“I didn't do anything to Dany,” I say. “I told the truth and let her choose whether or not to believe it.”

“TRUTH?” Trent lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “The truth is that you're a manipulative, controlling, abusive monster, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it!”

Something strange happens as I listen to him.

The panic in my chest doesn't disappear, exactly, but it changes. I'm still afraid. I'm still waiting for him to do something that will drag me right back into the nightmare I've spent months trying to escape. But at the same time, I'm beginning to see him the way everyone else in this room must see him.

Not the man I loved.

Not the man who used to climb into my bed and ask me to hurt him.

Not the person whose lies I spent months questioning myself over.

Just a man screaming accusations at a bartender in front of an entire room full of strangers.

From the corner of the bar, Eric's voice cuts through the tension. “Holy shit. This is better than reality TV.” He has his phone out, the camera pointed directly at Trent.

Oh, thank the gods.

Evidence.

“Are you recording me?” Trent screeches.

“Oh, absolutely,” Eric says cheerfully, zooming in. “This is gold. Pure fucking gold. Hale, babes, am I getting his good side?”

Hale, sitting beside Eric with his arms crossed over his large belly, looks Trent over with a completely unimpressed expression.

“He doesn't have a good side.”

“PUT THAT AWAY!”

Trent starts toward them.

Eric doesn't even flinch. He stands, and the sheer difference in their size makes Trent hesitate for half a second.

“See, here's the thing, buddy,” Eric says. “I've heard Vincent's side of the story, and now I'm watching yours. And I gotta say, you're not doing yourself any favors.”

“You don't understand.” Trent's demeanor changes so quickly it makes my skin crawl. His shoulders slump, his voice softens, and fresh tears gather in his eyes. It's the same transformation I've seen countless times before, the one that used to make me question whether I'd somehow been too hard on him.

“He's got all of you fooled,” he says quietly. “He's so good at playing the victim, at making everyone think he's this nice guy, but behind closed doors…”

“Behind closed doors, what?” Eric interrupts.

Trent hesitates.

Eric raises an eyebrow.

“Go ahead. We're listening.”