“He’s not … he’s not a bad person,” I said eventually, not wanting to talk more about our dad, instead focusing on defending my choices, like I needed to assure him that I was going to be okay. “He’s got a lot of issues and he lied a lot to me, but I think he was lying a lot to himself too. I think he wants to try. I really do.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a safe person,” Aaron said, still rubbing my back in strong, soothing strokes. “I mean, he clearly isn’t a safe person. He put you in real danger, Rosie.”

“I know.” I nodded, swiping at my nose. “I know. And I’m not—I don’t think I’m ever going to see him again.”

Saying it out loud, letting those words ring in the kitchen, in the pale light of the morning that was just starting to bleed into the kitchen, sucking out the darkness, reminding me that I was human, that it was daytime, and that I was supposed to be awake soon, in the world, ready to be an active participant in my life, made the tears start all over again.

Aaron rubbed my back harder, shushing in time with the movement of his hand. Not in a patronizing way, not to get me to be quiet, but like he was trying to calm a spooked horse, like I was a wild, untamed thing that he had to treat with steady hands or I’d hurt him or myself. That made me cry harder.

“Rosie,” he whispered. “You don’t know that. You don’t know that you’ll never see him again. Maybe you will. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not that,” I said after a moment, once I’d gotten just a tiny bit of my breath back. “I’m not crying because I’m going to miss him.”

That wasn’t entirely true. I think I am going to miss Damien. But I think Aaron knew that I was lying, just a little bit, to myself just as much as him, and he let it slide. That made me feel more understood and cared for than any of the physical affection or soothing words.

“It’s—” I sobbed. “He’s alone. He’s so alone. And I know I won’t see him again because I can’t. He can’t. If he’s going to change, he has to move on completely.”

“That doesn’t seem healthy,” Aaron said.

“Maybe it’s not.” I sniffed. “Maybe choosing to isolate himself and run away will mean that he’ll never get better. Maybe it’ll be just like before, like the people he loved before, when he was my age, that he can never go back to.