Nat perched on the arm of the slate sofa. “Is this because of what that asshole did to you?”

“Partly.”

“You can’t let him ruin your life, Ava. You can’t give him that kind of power.”

“It’s not just that.” Ava moved to the leather wing-back and sat. “I did a lot of thinking while I was home. I . . . can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

But Ava didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Nat already knew. They sat in silence for a moment, letting the words settle. Finally, Ava spoke.

“I couldn’t tell my parents what had happened to me.” Her voice was soft, her eyes cast down. “There I was, physically and emotionally battered, and I had to make up a story about a random mugging.” She looked up then, her eyes shiny with tears. “I was too ashamed of what I’d done—of who I was—to tell them the truth. I can’t live like that anymore.”

“Okay,” Nat said gently, “I understand.”

“I feel awful that I got you into this, Nat.” The tears spilled over then. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Nat quickly assured her. “I’ve met someone amazing. We’ve been together for a while now. He’s kind and generous and I’m attracted to him. And he really cares about me.”

“He doesn’t, though,” Ava said, fat tears rolling dramatically down her cheeks. “It’s not real.”

Nat was instantly defensive. Ava didn’t even know Gabe, didn’t know anything about what they shared. But she couldn’t snap at her friend. The girl was damaged and broken, blaming herself for the violence she’d endured.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Nat said, only the slightest edge to her voice. “I’m safe and I’m happy.”

“When he’s tired of you, he’ll throw you away like a piece of garbage. That’s how it works. That’s what he’s paying for.”

Nat’s temper flared. “Every relationship is different,” she retorted. “You told me one of your daddies wanted to marry you.”

Ava snorted, swiped at her nose. “He was old and lonely, and he knew I’d never say yes. It was just a game to him. It’s all just a game. You have to understand that.”

Nat stood. “I’m sorry things turned ugly for you, Ava, but that doesn’t mean that’s going to happen to me.”

“Okay,” Ava acquiesced, hearing the anger in Nat’s voice. “Maybe it will be different for you. Maybe you won’t end up hating yourself.”

There was a key in the lock then. Conversation ceased as Ava’s mom entered with two deli cups of coffee. The woman’s expression made it clear that the tension in the room was palpable.

“Good luck in Ohio,” Nat muttered. She hurried out of the penthouse.

25

The Face-off

As Nat took the subway back to Brooklyn, her irritation toward Ava continued to simmer. She understood that her friend had been hurt and humiliated. She got that Ava’s words were meant to protect Nat from a similar fate. But Gabe Turnmill was not some coke-snorting misogynist who had lured Nat to a hotel room to degrade her. He was a hardworking, single dad who wanted companionship. Even love. Her heart knew this. It was her head and her gut that needed to shut up.