I snorted out a quick laugh. “You mean once or twice before this month, right?”

Nico didn’t say anything, but he did flash me a quick smile. I only looked at him for a moment before I went back to work.

His knuckles weren’t nearly as damaged as I thought they should have been, but, given his profession, I guessed that wasn’t a surprise.

Still I cleaned and bandaged his fingers, taking extra care.

I loved taking care of animals, and this time with Nico proved I loved taking care of people too. Or maybe it was just him. I wasn’t sure, but I appreciated the time to do something I enjoyed, and the time to process what had happened.

I’d kept my feelings about Daniel—my fear of him—buried deep. But under the surface, there had always been this fear that I refused to acknowledge. But even though I’d ignored it, I’d worried about facing him again. It had been like holding my breath, wondering how I would face him.

But it had happened.

And I had survived, all thanks to Nico.

“You know,” I said as I taped one of his knuckles, “I’ve been dreading that day for almost six years,” I said.

“What, running into him?” Nico asked.

“Yeah,” I responded.

He put the hand I wasn’t working on top of mine, then reached up to tilt my chin to face him. “He won’t ever hurt you again. He will never be near you again.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, then turned away, working on his knuckles again.

I believed him, and I was happy.

Just as Nico had proven his tenderness with Champ and with the way he sometimes touched me like I was his most treasured possession, he had proven his brutality.

And to my shock, I was grateful for it.

Seeing my stepfather writhing in pain, experiencing only a taste of what he had put my mother and I through was like the most delicious, decadent dessert.

The greatest drug I had ever experienced.

And I didn’t even bother pretend I felt bad about seeing him suffer.

“I’ll see that he’s punished for what he did to you, Hope. For what he did to your mother,” Nico said.

I didn’t look at him, and he didn’t press the matter.

I supposed I should have been horrified, knowing that he could carry through with his promise.

But I wasn’t horrified.

My mother had never gotten the justice she deserved. The system had failed her, had failed me, and if there was a way for that wrong to be righted, I wouldn’t stand in the way.

I taped Nico’s pinky, then moved to his other hand. Went through the same routine, feeling deep satisfaction at being able to care for him. Realized that it had been days since I had thought about my escape.

Days since I had thought about anything but how much I enjoyed being here.

Realized how comfortable I had become.

And had no fucking clue what it all meant.

Was I buying into a fantasy?

Were any of the feelings I tried to ignore but still felt real?