Page 54 of Montana Justice

I pulled my legs up under me, the worn fabric of my dress bunching around my knees. The material was soft from too many washes, comfortable in a way that newer clothes never were. But sitting in Rosario’s, surrounded by people in their Friday-night best, I’d felt every threadbare spot.

Until Lachlan stood up for me. Until Lucas and Emma and the others had closed ranks around me like I was worth protecting.

My throat tightened. When was the last time anyone had done that? Defended me not because they wanted something, not because it benefited them, but simply because it was right?

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to hold back tears that seemed to live just beneath the surface these days. The weight of secrets pressed down on my shoulders, heavier than any physical burden I’d ever carried.

God, I wanted to tell him. The words lived in my throat like broken glass, cutting me every time I swallowed them down. He deserved to know. After tonight, after everything he’d done, he deserved the truth.

But the truth would destroy everything. The truth would take away the only happiness I’d found in twenty-seven years of searching.

“You okay?”

I dropped my hands to find Lachlan in the doorway, his face creased with concern. He’d loosened his collar at some point, and the casual dishevelment made him look younger, more approachable. More dangerous to my carefully maintained walls.

“Just thinking.” I tried for a smile, felt it wobble and fail. “Thank you. For tonight. For standing up for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.” He moved into the room, settling on the opposite end of the couch like he was giving me space to run if I needed it. Always so careful with me, always reading the signs I didn’t know I was broadcasting.

“Yes, I do.” The words came out fierce, surprising us both. “You don’t understand what it meant. Having people defend me like that. Having you…” I had to stop, the emotion too thick to push past.

“Hey.” His voice went soft, the tone he used with spooked horses and crying babies. “Talk to me. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

I laughed, but it came out watery and wrong. “You want the truth?”

“Always.”

The word hit like a slap. Always. He always wanted the truth, and I’d done nothing but lie since the moment I’d come back into his life. Lies of omission, lies of misdirection, lies to protect lies to protect more lies.

But maybe I could give him one small truth. One piece of honesty in an ocean of deception.

“Tonight was my first date.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Your first—what?”

“My first real date. Where someone asked me to dinner just because they wanted to spend time with me. Where we sat and talked and nobody expected anything except conversation.” I pulled at a loose thread on my dress, needing something to do with my hands. “Pretty pathetic for twenty-seven, right?”

“Piper.” He shifted closer, not touching but near enough that I could feel his warmth. “We… Last year… You weren’t…”

A laugh burst out of me, surprising and genuine. “A virgin? No. God, no. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

I tried to find words for something I’d never really examined. “I’ve had sex. Not a lot, but some. Usually because it was easier than saying no, or because I needed something and that was the currency expected.” The admission tasted bitter, but I pushed through. “But actual dating? Someone wanting to know me, not just use me? That’s new.”

His jaw tightened, and I could see him processing the implications. Adding up the pieces of a puzzle I’d only given him corners of.

“Growing up with Ray as a father didn’t exactly model healthy relationships,” I continued, needing to fill the silence, but knowing I was running a risk. “He taught me that people take what they want. That kindness comes with a price tag. That trusting someone just means they know exactly where to stick the knife.”

“Jesus, Piper.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “What about your mom? Surely she?—”

“My mother was…issick.” The words came out flat, emotionless. Sick was easier than weak. Sick was easier than explaining a woman who’d chosen Ray over her daughter’s safety every single time. “Ray wasn’t exactly the caretaking type. Someone had to make sure she ate, took her medications, didn’t just fade away completely.”

“So you stayed. After high school, when you could have left, you stayed.”

“Where was I going to go? No money for college, no job skills except reading people and staying invisible. At least with them, I knew what to expect. I could run interference, keep Ray’s temper focused on me instead of her.” I shrugged like it didn’t matter, like those years hadn’t carved pieces out of my soul. “It wasn’t much of a life, but it was the only one I knew.”

“You were at the library all the time when you lived here as a kid,” he said suddenly. “I remember seeing you there, surrounded by books. You were always studying something.”

---