Darby drew her hands into her lap. Eban picked one up and gave it a squeeze. Even through gloves it felt like heaven that he was here with her, despite the reason for his presence.

“I’ve seen how people judge others who write their stories online or in memoirs, when they reveal the terrible things that happened to them,” she told him. “There is always a portion of the population who blames the victim. ‘She shouldn’t have gone there,’ ‘she wore the wrong outfit,’ ‘she’s stupid, she should have known better’…” Darby savored the warmth of his hand around hers. “It enrages me to the point where I can barely breathe. The idea of people turning that ignorant vitriol on me. I think that might actually be a thing that could destroy me.” She swallowed. “I decided I’ll deal with my trauma on my terms, and I’ll heal in my own way in my own time. I don’t owe anyone anything.”

“You don’t,” he agreed. “People think the internet makes them anonymous. They think they can say what they want, and it won’t affect anyone.”

“They’re wrong,” Darby said.

“I agree. And I think you handling this in a way that helps you get through it, not on anyone else’s terms, is the best thing you could do. I will always support you whatever you need.” Eban squeezed her hand again and let go. She knew he understood. Maybe that’s why she had fallen for the man. Or maybe it was the fact she didn’t have to do the big reveal with Eban. He already knew every terrible detail of what had been inflicted upon her. He wouldn’t treat her differently when he found out because he’d known right from the start.

They pulled into the strip mall where Dr. Kim Gleeson had his office and Darby knew something was wrong even before Eban swore. A police car sat in the parking lot and Dr. Gleeson stood on the sidewalk with his hand on his forehead, looking agitated as he spoke to a tall Black officer she recognized from yesterday.

Gleeson was a short, slight man who looked diminutive next to the oversized cop. Eban parked and got out of the SUV. Darby followed, taking her laptop with her because she wasn’t about to risk it being stolen. He sent her a look but didn’t say anything. She walked hesitantly in his wake, knowing she wasn’t allowed to be part of the police investigation but wanting to talk to her therapist and make sure everything was all right.

Eban took out the black leather wallet that contained his credentials and held them up for Dr. Gleeson to see as he introduced himself.

“What’s going on, Sergeant Robertson?” he asked the police officer.

“Break-in at Dr. Gleeson’s office.”

“When did this occur?” Eban asked.

The psychologist hunched against the wind. He wore a thick overcoat but no hat or gloves. “I’m not sure. I rescheduled all my appointments yesterday morning after I heard what happened with Darby.”