“I wanted to tell you.”
“When?”
She looked away.
“I don’t know.”
That hurt more than an excuse.
“Mom.”
Her shoulders shook.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
The sentence was familiar.
Garrett used it too.
Maybe that was what hurt most.
Everyone who controlled me claimed it was protection.
“Protecting me from what?”
She looked at me.
“From losing everything.”
I waited.
“Seven years ago, your father was desperate. We were going to lose the house. We were going to lose everything we built.”
“So you went to Garrett.”
“No.”
Her answer came quickly.
“He came to us.”
I frowned.
“He knew about the debts before anyone else.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked down.
“He offered to help. He said he cared about you. He said he wanted to build a family.”
My stomach tightened.
“He used you.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
My mother covered her face.
