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Henry’s head jerks up, and now he does spin, snapping, “You fucking asshole.”

“So you do want me to tell her?”

Henry’s face contorts with new rage and old anger and something like sorrow and grief and pain. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Never is,” the bartender says so cheerfully that I want to stomp over there—

Nope. That’s what he wants.

“It was an ex-girlfriend,” Henry says. “A few years ago. I ended it, and when I didn’t want to get back together, she laid charges.”

“Oh,” the bartender calls. “It was her fault. Always the women with these false accusations—”

“Shut the fuck—” Henry bites it off and turns to me. “I hate blaming her. Hate it so much. I’m a paramedic. I see domestic violence all the time, and to have a woman accuse someone of that for revenge only makes it easier for guys to say whoever accused them is also lying—” He stops short again. “The charge was dismissed. No plea bargain. No court case. My lawyer said the charge should never have been laid, and it probably wouldn’t have been if I wasn’t…” He trails off and glances to one side with a shrug.

“Indian?” the bartender calls. “Is that the card you’re playing, Henry?”

Henry’s jaw works. “If I wasn’t a very big guy. The cops took one look at me and decided they knew what happened. It did not happen.” He turns to me. “It has never happened. I’ve been the biggest kid in class all my life, and my dad taught me that I need to be extra careful about that. If a little guy shoves a boy or grabs a girl, no one blinks. They sure as hell blink if I do it.”

I remember all the times when he’d steady me and let go fast or stop himself from grabbing me or ask permission to treat me. So very careful, and he probably always had been, but he was even more so now.

It was consideration, yes, but it was also protecting himself. Making sure no one ever mistook a helpful touch for a violation.

“Mmm,” the bartender muses. “That’s a pretty speech, Henry, but maybe you should talk about your wife.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “If you’re saying I ever laid a hand on Jenn, you’re getting desperate. She was ready to stand up for me when I was charged. Her and the girls.”

“But it took a while, didn’t it? Your ex didn’t immediately jump to your defense, if I recall correctly.”

“Because she couldn’t,” Henry snaps back. “It doesn’t matter how well she knows me, no one can say with absolute certainty that a person would never lash out. Not that I beat my girlfriend, but maybe we got in a fight and she came at me and I pushed her and she fell.”

“You seem to be doing a lot of mental gymnastics there, Henry.”

I lay my hand on his arm. “He’s provoking you. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

Henry nods abruptly, but I can tell he still wants to explain. To be absolutely sure no one in this room thinks he did what he was accused of. Because it’s something he’s spent his life avoiding, being so sure no one could ever say this mountain of a man hurt them.

He’s right about his ex. From everything he’s said, she’s a smart woman, which means she knows, as he said, that you can’t claim someone would never do a thing. My father is an amazing guy who never raised a hand to us, but I saw the rage in his face when he thought I was impersonating his dead child. Would he have struck me then, if I’d said something to tip him over the edge? Circumstances are everything.

Jenn had reacted with logic, not emotion, and that was the right thing to do, but it would still sting. The person who probably knows Henry best had hesitated to defend him.

The bartender knows exactly what buttons to push.

And we need to stop letting him.

I’m about to walk back to Noemi, to check on her, when I realize that could look like I’m stepping away from Henry. Like I want to put distance between us.

So I reach out and then nod toward Noemi, and he takes my hand and we head over to the young woman.

“Aww,” the bartender says. “You two are so cute together. But Henry isn’t the only one who needs a warning sign on his dating profile. How about you, Ellie? What would yours be? Train wreck ahead, proceed with caution? Or do we label you the incredible vanishing woman? Guys date you and after a few months, they forget you exist. Is there anything sadder than being forgettable?”

I remember that moment at my parents’ house, where they didn’t know who I was, and I flinch.

Henry’s hand tenses on mine and I squeeze my eyes shut. I need to ignore the bartender. If needling us amuses him, let him be amused. I won’t further entertain him by reacting.

I crouch beside Noemi’s chair. She’s there, but she’s not there. Blank faced and staring. When I’m close enough, I hear her whispering under her breath.

“Not real,” she says. “None of it’s real. Just a bad dream.”