Page 34 of Bewitched By the Mountain Man
"You don't know anything about me and Tessa."
"I know enough. I know you hurt her. I know she spent weeks crying over you, questioning what she did wrong, wondering why she wasn't enough. And I know that now, when she's finally healing, finally finding happiness again, you're holding on to something that can destroy that. Why?"
Derek stares at me, and I can see him struggling for an answer.
"Can I come in?" I ask. "Five minutes. That's all I need."
He hesitates, then steps back, allowing me inside. The apartment is exactly what I expected. Generic furniture, dishes in the sink, the smell of stale beer.
"Say what you came to say," he mutters, crossing his arms.
I take a breath, knowing that what I'm about to share is something I rarely talk about. Something that still sits like broken glass in my chest. But if it gets through to him, if it makes him understand, then it's worth it.
"I used to be a sheriff. I spent years in law enforcement, investigating human trafficking operations in rural Nevada."
His expression shifts, interest replacing some of the hostility.
"It was a long investigation. Complex network of traffickers moving victims through the desert. Women, mostly. Some of them barely more than girls. They were being sold. Bought and used and discarded like they were nothing."
"Jesus," he says.
"We arrested sixteen people. Rescued twenty-three victims. I can still see their faces sometimes, the hollow look in their eyes, the way they flinched when we tried to help them. But here's the thing that destroyed me. Some of those sixteen we arrested? They were my colleagues. People I worked with, trusted. Men who wore the same badge I did and used it to protect monsters."
Derek is quiet now, really listening.
"I blew the whistle. Testified against them. Watched them go to prison for what they did. And you know what happened to me? I became a pariah. Other law enforcement didn't trust me anymore because I'd turned on my own. The department forced me out. I got death threats. Had to move, start over completely."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I learned something from that experience," I say, meeting his eyes. "I learned what real evil looks like. I've seen the worst that men are capable of. The cruelty, the violence, the complete disregard for human suffering. I've looked into the eyes of predators who saw other people as objects to be used and thrown away."
I take a step closer, and Derek doesn't move, transfixed by what I'm saying.
"And here's what I need you to understand, Derek. You don't want to be that guy. You don't want to be the man who uses power to hurt someone, who holds something over another person's head to control them. That's what predators do."
"I'm not… I'm not like that," he says.
"You have footage of Tessa in a private moment. Footage that you could hurt someone with. And why? Because you left herand she moved on? Because she found happiness with someone else? That's not protection. That's revenge. That's cruelty. And you're better than that."
He looks away, and I can see the conflict playing out on his face.
"You made a choice, and you hurt her. And yeah, maybe you regret it. Maybe Vanessa wasn't what you thought she'd be, and maybe you realized too late what you had with Tessa. But that doesn't give you the right to keep hurting her."
"I just… I didn't think she'd move on so fast. I thought…"
"You thought she'd wait for you?" I ask. "Why would she do that? You chose someone else. So she picked herself up and she moved forward. That's what strong people do. They survive."
Derek sinks down onto his couch, his head in his hands. "I fucked up."
"Yeah. You did. But here's the thing about fucking up, it happens. We're all human. We make mistakes, hurt people we care about, choose wrong. But what defines us isn't the mistake. It's what we do after."
He looks up at me.
"You can hold onto the video," I say. "Or you can let it go. Delete it. Move on with your life and let her move on with hers. You can be the guy who made a mistake but didn't become a monster because of it."
There's a long silence. I can hear traffic outside, someone's TV through the wall, the hum of his refrigerator. And then Derek pulls out his phone.
"The video Vanessa gave me," he says slowly. "She told me someone sent it to her. But that was probably bullshit."
