Charlotte cocked a brow. “Guess he’s good for something, then.” Her gaze softened. “This has weighed on you, hasn’t it?”
“Deeply.” Nerves sparking again, she told herself, in for a penny... “There’s more to my preference, and it isn’t nearly as easy to digest.”
Charlotte reached out and squeezed her hand. “Then tell me, my friend. I am here to listen.”
Danny swallowed the emotion clogging her throat and told her friend everything about her father, the abduction, and her past. With every detail that passed through her lips, Danny felt each sliver of shame and regret burn away into smoke.
When she’d finished her story, Danny knew a moment of peace. Whatever Charlotte’s reaction, kind and compassionate or loyal and angry—Danny expected the latter—the wounds inside continued their journey of healing, until only the faintest of scars was left.
Scars she’d accept because they were now a part of her.
And by her husband’s words, there wasn’t a piece of her that wasn’t beautiful.
