“My father doesn’t know. Mom never told him about this place. She said she was too embarrassed to show him where she lived before they met, but she wanted me to know. She grew up without a father in the picture, and I think she wanted me to see that I could still grow up and succeed without him—that I didn’t have to let his disinterest, or lack of love, cripple me for life. She encouraged me to let God be my Father and my role model.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Whatever her motivation, it worked. Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“And that’s the rest of the story I promised to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“After my mother died, I turned into someone I . . . can’t really describe. I wanted my father to hurt as bad as I was hurting. Or at least be so angry he couldn’t sleep. The only way I knew how to do that was to hit his pride.”

“Okay.”

“So, I made some decisions that had the whole school talking—and one of the general’s closest friends made sure he knew about those decisions.”

“Such as?”

She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. So hard. She’d done this once and been rejected. She honestly didn’t know if she could handle it if Gavin held her past against her. But he’d kissed her. He liked her. He was looking at the future and seeing her in it. If she wanted to be a part of that, he had to know her. All of her. “Such as the fact that I became the school . . .” She couldn’t say it. She opened her eyes and looked into his. So concerned, so focused on what she was saying. “I had a lot of nicknames. A couple of them began with the letter S. The least offensive one was Sleep Around Sarah.”

He sucked in a breath.

The tension running through her threatened to snap every muscle in her neck.

“Was it effective?” he asked. “With the general?”

“Very. He sent me away to boarding school for the last two years of high school. When I graduated, I came home and moved in here. To this place where my mother used to live. And I decided that I hated myself. I hated my father, but I hated myself more. That day, I remembered our conversation and decided I’d be someone she’d be proud of no matter what. This is where, for the first time in my young life, I found some peace.”

He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. “She’d be proud, Sarah.”

Sarah couldn’t look at him or she’d break down, but she nodded. “Thanks,” she whispered. He hadn’t responded to her confession. Was he repulsed? Disgusted? Ready to run as far as possible from her?

“She eventually moved, I take it.”