“It’s complicated,” I said finally.
“You always say that when you don’t want to tell me the truth.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I opened my eyes and looked at her, really looked at her. At the fear and confusion and hurt written all over her face.
She deserved the truth.
Even if I didn’t fully understand it myself.
“Derek hurt someone,” I said carefully. “A long time ago. Someone he was married to.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “He was married to her?”
I blinked. “You knew?”
“He told me.”
My heart stopped. “He told you?”
“Not the details,” she said quickly. “He didn’t tell me who it was or what happened. But he told me he’d hurt someone. That he’d done something bad. That’s why he is in therapy.”
I stared at her, my mind reeling.
Derek had told her.
He’d told Frankie about his past, not the specifics, but enough that she knew he'd hurt someone. Enough to be honest with her. Enough to let her know he wasn’t perfect.
And I hadn’t known.
“When did he tell you this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“The day you found us talking on the porch. The day we went to the movies with Zero.”
I closed my eyes. The ground was shifting beneath my feet. Because if Derek had told Frankie, if he’d been honest with her about his past, even in vague terms, then what did that mean?
Did it mean he was trying to change? That he was aware of what he’d done and was working to be better?
Or did it just mean he was good at manipulating people into trusting him?
I didn’t know.
And again, the not knowing was killing me.
“He won’t hurt us,” Frankie said quietly.
“You don’t know that, sweetheart,” I admitted. “But I’m not letting him get close enough to find out.”
She nodded slowly, arms tightening around herself. “Okay.”
I crossed the kitchen and pulled her into my arms. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t melt into me the way she used to when she was little. She just stood there, stiff and uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry, Frankie.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly. “You didn’t know.”
But I should have.
