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Several minutes passed before he spoke again. “When did it start?”

“I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t like this,” I admitted, feeling exposed and helpless.

“And me?” Johnny swallowed deeply. “When did it start because of me?”

“Da was always paranoid,” I told him, deciding I had nothing left to lose. “But once that picture of us was published in the paper, he had his own version of proof.”

Johnny dropped his head. “Fuck, Shannon, that was months ago.”

“I know.” I sighed wearily.

“I made it worse for you,” he choked out.

“You made it bearable,” I whispered.

“Where else?” Two words that seemed to be torn from deep within him. His gaze roamed over me slowly, unabashedly, darkening, until finally settling back on my face. “Is there more?” His fingers trailed over my cheek. “Show me where he hurt you.”

I hesitated to respond, feeling cautious and uncertain.

“You can trust me,” he said in a voice so low it was barely audible. “I’m not like him, Shannon. I won’t ever hurt you. I couldn’t. Not in any shape or form.”

I knew this. Aside from Joey, Johnny Kavanagh was the only other person I did trust. It was with this knowledge that I slowly pulled my aching body into a sitting position.

“Take it easy,” he coaxed, leaning over to help me sit up. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Letting my legs dangle off the side of the bed, I sat facing him and reached for the hem of the pajama blouse I had changed into earlier. Gingerly, I lifted the fabric up to reveal the left side of my black-and-blue rib cage.

Johnny sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. “Fucking bastard,” he snarled and then seemed to check himself because he swallowed down whatever else he was about to say, clenched his jaw, and whispered, “I need to see everything. Show me everything. I need to see it all.”

So I did. I showed him my arms and legs, my neck and thighs, and with every bruise and cut I revealed, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

“And they made a hole here,” I explained in a shaky voice, clumsily unbuttoning my pajama blouse to reveal the fresh bandage strapped to my chest and side. Shivering, I cupped my tiny breasts and twisted sideways to show him. “To help me breathe.”

Johnny’s eyes flicked to the bandage and I watched his entire frame stiffen. He wasn’t looking at me in a sexual way. No, it was a look of pure horror. “Jesus Christ.” He dragged his chair closer to the bed until my legs were nestled between his knees. “Is it sore?” Resting one hand on my thigh, he gently grazed the bandage with his other hand. “Are you in pain?”

Yes.“I’ll be okay,” I replied, turning back to face him. “The doctor told me it will heal in a week or two.”

“He did this to you because of me—” Pausing, Johnny caught ahold of the fabric on either side of my chest and began to snap the buttons back into place, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time. “Because of what happened in the changing room?” When he was finished redoing my blouse, he shook his head, expression torn. “Because you’re not supposed to be with me?”

I shrugged helplessly. I couldn’t lie anymore. Not to him, at least. He saw it anyway, the truth in my eyes, and it caused a low, pained groan to tear from his chest. “I’m so sorry, Shannon.” Resting his forehead against my stomach, he wrapped his huge arms around my waist and whispered, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

My body was shaking so hard, I was struggling to hold it all back, to keep my feelings buried down, when all I wanted to do was fold into this boy and never come back up for air. Trembling, I cradled his face to my stomach and exhaled a broken sob. “It’s not your fault,” I choked out, feeling the sting of hot, salty tears as they trickled down my cheeks. “It’s not. If it wasn’t you, he would have found something else to hate me for. That’s the way it is in my family. My father doesn’t need a reason to do the things he does, Johnny. He just needs anotion.” Shaking, I trailed my fingers through his hair, forcing myself to keep my touch gentle and not cling to him and beg him to take me away like I so desperately yearned to do. “Don’t be sad for me.”

“Sad? I’m not sad, Shannon. I’m fucking devastated,” he choked out, lifting his head. “I was positive it was someone at school. Fuck, I was obsessed with figuring this out, and I was looking in the wrong direction the entire time.”

“Johnny…”

“I drove you back to that house,” he groaned, distressed. “I watched you walk into that fucking house and I went home to a warm, safe bed, knowing in my heart something wasn’t right but not opening my mind enough to see it!” Shaking his head, he released a frustrated growl. “I am so fucking sorry. You didn’t deserve to have another person let you down.”

“It’s okay,” I croaked out.

“No, it’s not. It’snotokay.” He exhaled a heavy sigh and whispered, “Shannon, did he—” Johnny blew out a breath and shook his head before trying again. “Did he…” Flinching, he closed his eyes. “He hurt you.” It was a statement, not a question. “Physically.” He opened his eyes and looked at me once more. “Did he do anything else to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to know if he…” His voice was pained as he struggled to get the words out. “Did he…ever make you do things that you didn’t want to do?”

“Like what?” I choked out, panicking.

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