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Whitney cut in. “Just for fact purposes, the age of consent in Illinois is seventeen. There is no crime here, Tara, regardless of your moral stance on the matter. I’m not saying I approve of any of this, but your father is not a felon by any means.”

“I don’t care about the laws!” Tara scoffed. “Wrong is wrong.”

I inhaled a breath then let it out, hoping words came with it. “Listen…things only escalated recently,” I tried, sounding pathetic, sounding frail. “Yes, I did meet Halley when she was seventeen, before I knew she was your friend. A connection formed. But I kept my distance.”

“Right. Roping her into private training sessions, pretending it was for her own benefit, was totally keeping your distance.”

“That was my idea,” Halley interfered.

I swallowed. “I care about her. A lot.”

“You only care about yourself. If you cared about Halley, you wouldn’t have put your damn hands on her. If you cared about me and Mom, we wouldn’t be standing here right now, dealing with this mess you created.”

Slivers of truth bled into the madness as everything jumbled to distortion. Wrong, right, black, white, lust, love.

Fuck.

Nothing had prepared me for this reaction from Tara. She thought I was a monster. A disgusting creep.

Am I?

Holy shit. This was a fucking mess.

“Tara, just try to?—”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” She was seething. Raging. “You lost that privilege the moment you started fantasizing about a seventeen-year-old girl.”

“Stop!” Halley sobbed. “This is crazy. This is so far from the truth…” Turning to face me, she latched on to my useless, lifeless arm and shook me hard. “Reed, tell her. Tell her this is real. It’s not a crime. I’m not a victim. This is love, and it’s pure, and it’s beautiful.” She shook me again. “Tell her you didn’t know I was seventeen when we met and that I lied to you. I told you I was older. Then I chased you down, kissed you, begged for you to train me so I could be close to you. I did this. I’m responsible. Me.”

Another lull of silence festered as Halley’s onslaught of words soaked in.

Tara frowned, her eyes narrowing with consideration and disdain, her steadfast belief in her best friend gaining holes. She sucked in a breath. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Halley said.

Gaze freezing with ice, Tara stared at Halley, her loyalty cracking. Shreds of doubt blossoming. “You lied to him so you could sleep with him?”

I choked.

Panic crawled through me as I glanced between Halley and Tara. Halley cowered back, new fears blooming to life. The fear of losing her best friend. Losing her found family.

Slowly, I panned my attention back to my daughter, drinking in her broken, conflicted face.

Memories unfurled with light and love. Sweet, tender moments. Childhood laughter, late-night homework sessions, sparring at the park, bonding over television sitcoms while eating pints of ice cream on the living room floor. Birthday parties, ocean waves, family dinners, bedtime stories.

But everything was eclipsed by a promise.

A promise to the woman on my left that I’d always fight for her. Protect her. Keep her safe, so no one could ever hurt her again.

I hurt her.

I set this in motion because I was weak. Because I fell for her, despite the flashing neon-fucking-red signs telling me to turn back now.

Tara would forgive me one day.

I knew she would.

The storm would pass, the waves would placate, and our family would get through this.

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