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There was no invitation in the words. No argument left to have.

I believed him.

For some reason, that made me feel worse before it made me feel anything else.

“I didn’t mean for you to—”

“That wasn’t your decision,” he said. “It was mine.”

His voice was quiet. It still stopped me.

I watched him run a hand over his jaw, carefully missing the bruise.

“She wanted you to stop worrying,” I said finally. “I don’t think she thought anything would happen.”

“I know she didn’t.” He looked at me again. “That doesn’t make it her place. But she didn’t make you feel like a burden all by herself, did she?”

I couldn’t answer him.

He looked away first.

“I had no business taking anything out on you,” he said. “Or involving anybody else in it.”

I tried to decipher that. It felt significant. Important.

For once, he wasn’t pretending it meant nothing.

He was also not offering to explain all of it.

I had been hurt enough for one day. I couldn’t make myself pull at another loose thread and see what came apart.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I told him. “I thought I could just get inside. I didn’t want to drag you out of whatever you were doing because some asshole couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

Chief listened.

When I finished, he rubbed his palms against his jeans once.

“On Monday, you were right in front of me,” he said. “I had my hands on you. You wouldn’t answer.”

I looked down at those hands.

They were still now.

He seemed to notice me looking and curled them loosely together.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be watching for,” he admitted. “I don’t know when it’s going to happen. Then today Dad gets a call, and somebody’s had his hands on you, and you thought you shouldn’t bother me.”

His voice caught on the last word. He stopped speaking.

“I didn’t just let him,” I said quietly.

“I know.” He turned toward me. “I know you fought him. I’m glad you did. I’m glad that woman was there.”

He took a breath. “But you were scared before that. And you thought you had to deal with it alone because I’ve been a fucking asshole to you.”

The bluntness hurt. So did the fact that he’d said it himself.

I stared at the pale strip of skin where my sock had been.