“That’s what happened,” Thomas said.
“No. What happened is a young child was groomed, assaulted, and verbally abused by a narcissistic psychopath after years of emotional neglect from their parents. What really happened was a mentally broken boy convinced himself you were soulmates because he was too disturbed to understand the difference between shared trauma and romantic love. Until you see it for what it is and forgive yourself, it won’t ever matter what me or your sons think.”
Thomas felt like he’d been slapped. “It’s not that simple.”
Hearing Aiden say that felt like a betrayal somehow, like he was…minimizing what had truly happened between him and Shane. The drama. The feelings. The violence. It felt so real. So like a relationship. It felt like a cop-out to call three years of an emotional rollercoaster nothing but abuse.
They’d had so many deep talks. They’d understood each other in a way nobody ever had before. Shane had picked him. Over and over. Shane had picked him over Holly, over his family…again and again. Shane had chosen him—him!—and calling him a narcissistic psychopathic abuser made Thomas feel…like he was betraying his memory.
God, how fucked up was that? How fucked up that, even now, years later, the bodies of his family between them, Thomas still felt some weird fucked-up sense of loyalty to the boy who’d slaughtered his family? What was wrong with him?
He jumped when Aiden touched his shoulder. “I know that this is going to take a long time for you to unpack. I know that you will probably need therapy, but you’ve created a work of fiction in your head, Tommy. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t your soulmate. He was your abuser. He was sick. And you have to make peace with that.”
“I don’t know how,” he admitted.
Aiden sighed. “If you can’t do it for me or for your sons, then think about the girls. Before the pattern repeats itself.”
A pain, knife sharp, pierced Thomas’s heart. “What does that mean? I would never hurt those girls. I would never withhold affection or allow them to fall into the hands of a monster.”
Aiden squeezed Thomas’s shoulder. “That’s not what I’m saying. But if you can’t forgive yourself for falling prey to an abuser, what does that tell the girls if it ever happens to them? Do you think they would trust you?”
“What?”
Aiden shook his head. “Let me put it to you this way. Imagine if Ara or Adi were in your position someday? If they were courted and groomed by someone like Shane. If they were abused and manipulated and something bad happened, should they subject themselves to a life of torture? Live their lives as martyrs to some cause that forces them to put their own wants and needs last forever?”
Thomas’s chest tightened, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed by some invisible fist. This wasn’t fair. “It's not the same thing. I should have known better. I wasn’t like normal kids.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “August wasn’t like other kids. Would he not be worthy of forgiveness? If the girls have August’s IQ, does that somehow make them more emotionally mature? Are you saying smart children are more culpable in their own abuse?”
“What? Of course not. I would never say such a thing.”
“That’s exactly what you’re saying every time you romanticize your abuse and force yourself into the role of villain. Do you get it now? Do you? Do you understand now? Can we please move past this? Finally? Can you please fucking forgive yourself?”
Before Thomas could say anything, Aiden’s phone gave a shrill jingle from the side table. “Who is it?”
Aiden picked it up and frowned at the name on the screen. “Lucas.”
Fear sent a shockwave through Thomas. Something was wrong. Some superstitious part of him felt like they’d willed something bad into existence by invoking his grandchildren’s names. “Answer it.”
Aiden put it on speakerphone. “Hello.”
“Tell Thomas to check his goddamn email,” Lucas raged.
“Lucas,” Thomas said. “What’s wrong?”
Aiden snagged the laptop, opening it and logging into Thomas’s email without asking for his password. They were long past privacy in such a short period of time.
“How did you know it was there?” Thomas asked, peering over at the screen. The email was from the anonymous user, not Lucas.
“Calliope has been monitoring your email. August and I got it, too,” Lucas said, his impatience palpable.
There was a file attached. A movie clip. The thumbnail was just a blurry red brick building. Aiden hit play, and they watched as whoever held the camera away from them approached a group of toddlers playing on a grassy lot.
Thomas was going to vomit.
That was the campus where August and Lucas worked. Somewhere among those children were Adelyn and Arabella. The man was bold, walking with confidence directly up to two little girls dressed for the weather in coats, hats, and mittens. They sat crouched looking at something in the grass.
They looked up as he approached. They both peered at him with their father’s serious jade eyes, not afraid, more…curious. They leaned in as the person seemed to briefly drop to their level and, for just a moment, the camera lens lost sight of them. Then the man was standing, panning the camera down to show the girls. Jesus Christ. They were holding a snake. A dead fucking snake.
