“Is that what you think?” Haizley asked. “That he was protecting a secret?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Derek told Zero to stay away from you and Frankie,” Haizley said carefully. “Then Zero deliberately revealed something Derek was terrified would ruin everything between you, make you run, make you hate him.”
“So he beat him for it.”
“He beat him because Zero hurt you.” Haizley’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “Not physically. But emotionally. Derek saw that pain, and he reacted.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” Haizley agreed. “It doesn’t. But it does make it different.”
I shook my head. “Different how? Violence is violence.”
“Is it?” She shifted slightly to face me. “When that girl was being hurt by Richard, and Derek stopped him—was that the same as Richard hurting her in the first place?”
“Of course not. Richard was—” I stopped, seeing where she was going.
“Richard was hurting an innocent child for his own gratification,” Haizley finished. “Derek hurt Richard to stop him. The action looks the same from the outside because they are both violence. But the intent, the context, the reason, those matter.”
“So you’re saying what Derek did to Zero was justified?”
“I’m saying it was protective.” Haizley’s eyes held mine. “Derek has spent years learning to control his anger. He’s worked harder than anyone I’ve ever treated to understand his triggers and manage his responses. But when someone he loves is threatened or hurt, that control breaks.”
“That’s what scares me,” I whispered. “What if one day I’m the one who threatens him? What if Frankie does something that makes him angry and he—”
“He won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can.” Haizley’s voice was firm. “Because I’ve seen him at his worst, Kat. I’ve seen him when he’s furious and hurting and barely holding on. And even then, even at his absolute lowest, his rage is never directed at the people he loves. It’s directed at the people who hurt them.”
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her so badly it hurt.
“What about Sam?” I asked. “He hurt his wife.”
“He did.” Haizley didn’t flinch from it. “Years ago, when he was a different person. When he was hurting and traumatized and had no tools to manage what he was feeling. He’s not that person anymore.”
“People don’t just change.”
“Some people don’t,” Haizley agreed. “Derek has done the work, Kat. He’s faced his demons. He’s learned to recognize when he’s escalating and how to stop it. He’s not perfect; what happened with Zero proves that. But he’s not the man he was when he hurt Sam.”
I looked down at my hands, twisted together in my lap. “How do I know which version of him I’m getting? How do I know he won’t...” My voice broke. “How do I know he won’t hurt us?”
“Because he’d rather die than hurt either of you.” Haizley’s hand squeezed mine. “I’ve never seen Derek more terrified than when he thought you’d take Frankie and run. Not because he’d lose control of the situation, but because he’d lose you both. That’s not the fear of an abuser, Kat. That’s the fear of a man who knows exactly what he’s capable of and is desperate not to become it.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks. “I’ve made so many wrong choices. With Richard. With Clay. What if I’m wrong about Derek too?”
“What if you’re right about him?”
The question hung in the air between us.
“I don’t know how to trust my own judgment anymore,” I admitted. “Every time I think I see someone clearly, I’m wrong. Every time I let someone in, they hurt us.”
“Derek isn’t Clay,” Haizley said gently. “And he isn’t Richard. He’s someone who’s fought like hell to be better than his worst impulses. Someone who’s chosen, every single day, to do the hard work of healing.”
“But what if it’s not enough?” My voice was barely a whisper. “What if I let him in and he—”
