The thought that had been percolating in her brain on and off since she’d been with Vin the night before resurfaced. And she couldn’t think of a reason not to say it out loud.

“I did something to survive, but sometimes I think…” She cleared her throat. “I’m a college graduate. I have a degree in marketing. I could have gotten a job.”

At least, theoretically she could have. One thing that had stopped her had been the fact that she hadn’t been one hundred percent confident in her fake ID. If she’d actually put in for real work, she wasn’t sure whether her social security number would have come up as someone else’s.

But another driver of her choice had been something darker.

Vin shook his head. “You can’t look back and cross-examine everything. You did the best you could with where you were—”

“I think I wanted to punish myself,” she blurted. As he looked over, she met his eyes. “I blame myself for what my son was put through. I picked the wrong man to marry and that was my fault—and I feel like my son suffered. Being with those…men. I hated it. I cried every night it was over and sometimes I was physically sick. I stayed with it for the money, true…but I was hurting myself deliberately.”

Vin took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it fiercely. “Listen to me. Your ex was the asshole in this—not you.”

“I should have left him earlier.”

“And you’re free now. You’re free of him and you’re not doing that…other shit anymore. You’re free.”

She stared out the front window. Except if that was true, then why did she feel so trapped still?

“You’ve got to forgive yourself,” Vin said roughly. “That’s the only way you’re going to get past this.”

God, she was so self-involved, she thought. Assuming everything those men had said back at the duplex was true—and given what she’d seen in Devina’s eyes she’d be an idiot to think otherwise—Vin had just found out tonight that he all but murdered his own parents.

“You, too.” She squeezed his hand. “You need to do the same.”

The grunt that he made was a stop sign and a half, and just as he’d respected her privacy, she respected his: As much as she wanted to get him to talk about that what he’d been told, she wasn’t going to push.

Leaning her head back against the rest, she stared at him as he drove them along. He was quick and comfortable behind the wheel, his brows low and his lips tighter than usual as he concentrated.

She was so glad that she’d met him. And grateful that he’d had faith in her when it had mattered so much.

“Thank you,” she said.