He snorted. “Hell no. All your credibility would’ve been gone. You’d have to be a goddamn nun, do charity events twenty-four seven, openly donate all of your earnings to God, and maybe then they might give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m sorry, but that sucks. That really fucking sucks.”

I sank as far down on my chair as I could get. I was almost in a ball.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t understand what his words were doing, how I never would’ve been believed, but now I was?

I pressed my forehead to my knees, feeling tears on my face once again.

I was so sick of it.

I was so sick of life, and that hadn’t hit me until Reese laid it all out.

All of that I’d lived. All of that I still carried. All of that, alone, just on me.

I’d never told anyone, not Damian, not my family. Everyone had heard when it happened, but no one said a thing. Why would I have bothered to tell anyone else? Why would anyone believe me?

Until now.

Reese kept pacing. I could see him swinging his arms around from the corner of my eye. He was rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a game.

“Coach spoke, and he backed up your claim about not having a place to sleep. He said he brought it up to your boss, and he’d said just what you told us he would. He’d have you stay in that janitor’s closet. No one should sleep in a janitor’s closet. And all the extra work you did? You worked from when you woke up, till I made you leave the gyms at night. You never got paid for all of that.”

He snorted. “And you know what their first response was? That manning the gym courts wasn’t extensive physical labor. That was their justification. That place sucks. Why in the world did you work there in the first place?”

He stopped now, waiting, focusing on me.

I lifted my head and rolled one shoulder back. “Because my friends were there. Because at one point, they were a second family to me.”

His eyes swept over my face, and he cursed under his breath.

Crossing the room in two strides, he bent and picked me up.

I went willingly, my arms and legs wrapping around him, just like on that wooded path two nights ago. He carried me to the living room, sat us on the couch, and hugged me. His head burying in my neck.

“I don’t have the words to take away what happened to you, but I can tell you what happened because of your friends rallying around you.”

I sat back, wanting to see him when he told me.