“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. “I do. For all the good it does me.”
My mother reached across the table and took my hand. “Then we hope he figures out that he loves you too. And that being with you is worth more than hiding.”
“And in the meantime,” my father said, “we’re here. Now, what the fuck happened and where is your sister?”
Chapter Nineteen
Simon
I told my parents everything. About Alan, about Sadie, about that night and what she did. WhatIdid. There was very little I didn’t share with my parents. They’d proven more than once that they were there for me.
They had my back.
When I told them I liked boys at the age of thirteen, my parents didn’t flinch. They didn’t lecture me or shove Bible verses down my throat, despite being prominent members of the church. They sat me down and told me they loved me and then said... under no circumstances could I ever have a boy spend the night.
Even if they were just a friend.
I was the only boy in Diamond Creek who was allowed to have a girl sleeping in my bed at the age of fifteen.
I never kept anything from them.
Except Sadie’s abuse.
“You should have called us, Simon.” My father’s disappointed tone cut me deep.
“She begged me not to.”
“I understand that, but this isn’t the kind of secret you keep. Not even for your sister. You know that.”
“I do,” I admitted. “If it makes you feel any better, everyone in town knew the truth.”
“And nobody did anything?” my mother asked, no doubt upset that not one of her friends had told her what was happening with her children.
“You know Sadie.” I shrugged. “She’s pretty convincing when she wants to be.”
My parents shared a look; one I had seen many times over the years. When Sadie came home, we’d both be getting a lecture about keeping secrets and knowing our worth. The fact that they were holding back right now about my relationship with Tony didn’t bode well for me.
It meant they were too concerned about the trial and whether or not I would go to prison to yell at me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned too.
“Alex speaks very highly of Tony. Says he’s a good lawyer,” my mother said.
“He is. His success rate is very high,” I added, feeling the need to defend him. I wanted my parents to love him the way I did. Well, not exactly the way I did.
“What about the prosecutor? Do we know anything about her? Or why she’s pushing this to trial?” my father asked.
“No. Tony has people looking into it.”
I stood up and set my cup in the sink. “Who’s coming to the salon with me?” I asked, changing the subject. Not wanting to think about the trial, or prison, or what would happen when Sadie came home.
“I am,” Mom said with a smile. “I need a wash and a trim.”
I smiled at my mother. Whenever they were in town, she made sure to come to the salon. She claimed no one did her hair as well as her son, but I knew the truth. She wanted to support her kids in any way she could. If she left my salon with an uneven pixie cut, she’d tell the world how it was just what she wanted.
“Do you want to bring your bags in first?” I asked, patting my legs, searching for my keys.
“We aren’t staying here,” Dad answered.
I froze, my hands against my pockets, and looked at my father. “Where are you staying?”
