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A barrage of guilt, horror, and devastation rained down as I slowly looked back up and locked eyes with Tara. Stupidly—and for bullshit sentimental reasons—I’d dug the damn photograph out of the garbage can right before trash day, recovering it, then hiding it behind another picture.
A catastrophic judgment call.
I bit down on my tongue, a film clouding my vision. “Squirt…”
“I am not your Squirt.”
My muscles locked, breath stalling in my throat like I was being held underwater. This was not how I’d intended for this to unfold. This was the worst-case scenario.
This was my nightmare.
Tara lunged at me and shoved at my chest with both hands. “You’re a monster. You’re sick. How could you do this to her? What is wrong with you?” Anger mingled with pain as tears dribbled down her bright-red cheeks. “How long were you lusting after my best friend? How long were you grooming her?”
“Tara!” Whitney whipped forward and snagged our daughter by the elbow. “Calm down. Think about what you’re saying.”
“I seem to be the only person thinking clearly right now. God, this is the Stacy situation all over again,” Tara shot back, genuine emotion rocking her words.
Whitney paused, frowning. “This is not the same.”
“Yes, it is. Open your eyes.”
My lips parted to speak, but nothing came out.
Only a gravelly sound of despair.
Off my paralyzed silence, Halley stumbled from the couch and hurried toward us, inserting herself between me and Tara. “No. No, Tara, please don’t turn this into something it’s not.”
The photograph fluttered from my feeble fingers and landed at our feet. All I could manage was another headshake as Halley tried to defend my honor, while I just stood there, shellshocked and numb. I was letting her down. I was letting everyone down.
Tara’s face twisted with disgust. “Don’t, Hals. Don’t justify his behavior. He’s a full-grown man, and you’re practically a child. You were traumatized and abused. He took advantage of you.”
“Stop it!” Halley squeezed both fists, her cheeks flaming. “I’m an adult. This was mutual. I pursued him, and he tried to stop it. This isn’t his fault.”
Her eyebrows hiked up. “That is exactly something a victim would say.” Tara swiveled around to face her mother, her hair catching between her lips. “Mom, come on. You’ve spent your entire life dealing with social work cases. You witnessed firsthand what happened in Charleston. Halley is a victim.”
Whitney’s eyes glimmered with tears. “I understand why you would feel that way, but this isn’t the same thing. I know your father. You know your father. Let’s try to be rational here and look at this for what it is. It’s different.”
“Listen to yourselves!” Tara’s arms flew up at her sides. “Halley was vulnerable and desperate for affection. He preyed on that.”
“He didn’t prey on me!” Halley interfered, close to sobbing. “Stop talking like I’m a clueless idiot who can’t think for herself. We fell in love, Tara. Love isn’t always black and white. It’s murky, gray, and complicated. Nobody planned this. We met before I even knew he was your father.”
Tara’s mouth snapped closed as she glanced between us, processing the claim. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I met him at a party two summers ago. A total coincidence. I had no idea he was related to you.”
My zoned-out eyes ping-ponged between all three faces. Three blurry, blacked-out faces. Sound was warped and muddled, my brain a hollow organ. Only my pounding pulse gave way to proof of life.
Tara stiffened, tears streaming down in rivulets of betrayal. “Two summers ago?”
“Yes. You and I had only just become friends and I didn’t know he was your father.”
Hot-lava rage flickered in Tara’s eyes. “Two summers ago you were seventeen.”
Halley fumbled for a reply, blinking rapidly as she peered up at me, silently begging for help.
My forehead creased, my head still swinging, rejecting everything. “No, it…it wasn’t like that,” I finally said, feeling like a third party in my own body. “It’s not what you think.”
“He speaks,” Tara bristled.