Chapter Twenty-Seven
Katrina
The sun was just beginning to rise over the orchard when I stepped onto the porch with my coffee. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of apples and earth. I should have been exhausted because I’d barely slept, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing.
I sat down on the top step and wrapped both hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my palms.
Derek hurt Sam.
The thought had been circling my brain all night, relentless and unforgiving. He’d hurt Sam. His wife. The woman who was now married to his brother. The details were murky, but the fact remained: Derek had been violent with someone he was supposed to love.
And yet.
And yet.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at me in Jack’s office. The way he’d kissed me as if I were the only thing in the world that mattered. The way his hands had felt on my body—possessive, protective, reverent.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Frankie’s face lit up every time she saw him. The way she trusted him so completely, so instinctively, in a way she’d never trusted anyone else.
“He won’t hurt us,” she’d said.
My twelve-year-old daughter had more faith in Derek than I did. And that terrified me.
Because what if she was right?
What if I was the one who was wrong?
I took a sip of coffee and stared out at the rows of apple trees. The orchard was peaceful in the early morning light, quiet except for the occasional bird call. It was the kind of place that should have made me feel safe.
But I didn’t feel safe.
I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send me tumbling into the abyss.
He hurt Sam.
But he’d also saved a fourteen-year-old girl from being raped. He’d beaten Richard within an inch of his life to protect a child he didn’t even know.
He’s violent.
But he was also gentle with Frankie. Patient. Kind. He listened to her in a way most adults didn’t bother to listen to kids.
He’s dangerous.
But he made me feel safer than I’d felt in years.
The contradictions were tearing me apart.
I wanted to believe that people could change. I wanted to believe that Derek wasn’t the man he used to be. I wanted to believe that the violence in his past didn’t define who he was now.
But I’d been wrong about men before.
I’d been wrong about Clay. I’d thought he was charming and attentive and interested in me. I’d thought he cared about Frankie. I’d been so desperate for someone to love us that I’d ignored every red flag, every warning sign, every instinct that told me something was off.
And I’d paid for it.
Frankie had paid for it.
What if I was doing the same thing with Derek? What if I was so desperate for connection, so starved for the kind of intensity and passion he made me feel, that I was ignoring the truth?
He beat his wife.
The words echoed in my head, cold and unforgiving.
But then I remembered the way he looked at me when he’d said, “I would never hurt you.”
He’d meant it. I knew he’d meant it.
But did that matter?
Did good intentions erase a violent past?
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me.
What do I do?
If I let Derek into our lives and I was wrong about him, Frankie would be the one who suffered. She’d already been through so much. She deserved stability. Safety. A mother who made good decisions.
But if I pushed Derek away, and I was wrong about that, Frankie would suffer too. She’d lose someone she cared about. Someone who made her feel seen and valued and protected.
Either way, I could hurt her.
Either way, I could fail her.
The weight of that responsibility pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I don’t know what to do.
I thought about the way Derek had kissed me. The way his hands had gripped my hips, the way his body had pressed against mine, the way he’d looked at me like I was everything he’d ever wanted.
I thought about the way he’d made me feel alive, desired, seen in a way I hadn’t been seen in years.
I thought about the way he’d tugged Frankie’s hair so gently, calling her Curly Sue. The way he’d listened to her talk about her day, as if being with her right then, in that moment, was the most important place he could be.
He loves her.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
Derek loved Frankie.
I didn’t know how or why or when it had happened, but it was there in every interaction, every glance, every word. He loved my daughter with a fierceness that was almost overwhelming.
And Frankie loved him back.
And yet.
Sam, who he’d beaten so badly she’d been hospitalized. Sam, who’d filed for divorce. Sam, who had every reason in the world to hate him… she let him live with her. More than that, she let him be around her children. She let him be around Charlie.
That made no sense.
If Derek were as dangerous as I believed, as uncontrollable as his past suggested, Sam would never have allowed it. A mother didn’t invite a violent man into her home. A woman didn’t give a man who’d hurt her access to her kids.
So either Sam was reckless and stupid, or Derek had actually changed.
And I didn’t know which answer terrified me more.
Because if he’d changed, if he’d really done the work to become someone different, then I couldn’t use his past as a wall between us. Couldn’t use it as a reason to keep him away.
But if he hadn’t changed, if Sam was just foolish or delusional or had forgiven him too easily, then I was staring down the same abyss I’d fallen into before. The same terrible, aching need to believe in a man who might destroy us both.
I didn’t know if Derek was safe.
I didn’t know if I could trust my own judgment anymore.
And worst of all, I wasn’t sure which I was more afraid of: that he’d hurt us, or that he wouldn’t and I’d have to let him in.
I took another sip of coffee, but it had gone cold. I set the mug down on the step beside me and wrapped my arms around myself.
The truth was, I didn’t know if Derek was dangerous.
I didn’t know if he’d changed.
I didn’t know if I could trust him.
But I knew one thing: I couldn’t keep living in fear.
I couldn’t keep making decisions based on what Clay had done, or what Richard had done, or what any other man in my past had done.
Derek wasn’t them.
And maybe, just maybe, he deserved a chance to prove that he was different.
But what if I’m wrong?
The question haunted me.
What if I let him in and he hurt us?
What if I trusted him and he broke that trust?
What if I loved him and he destroyed me?
What if you don’t give him a chance and you lose him?
The thought was quieter, softer, but it cut just as deep.
What if I pushed Derek away and spent the rest of my life wondering what could have been?
What if Frankie grew up resenting me for keeping her away from someone who loved her?
What if I let fear dictate my life and ended up missing out on something real?
I didn’t have answers.
I didn’t know what the right choice was.
All I knew was that I was tired of being afraid.
I was tired of second-guessing myself.
I was tired of letting the past control the present.
Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.
Maybe it was time to trust, not Derek, not yet, but myself.
To trust that I would know if something was wrong.
To trust that I would protect Frankie no matter what.
To trust that I was strong enough to handle whatever came next.
The sound of tires on gravel pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see a car pulling into the driveway.
Sam.
My stomach tightened. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this conversation.
But as she stepped out of the car and walked toward me, I realized I didn’t have a choice.
“Morning,” she said softly as she approached the porch.
“Morning,” I replied, my voice hoarse.
She gestured to the step beside me. “Mind if I sit?”
I shook my head, and she sat down, leaving a respectful distance between us.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Sam said, “I wanted to talk to you about Derek.”
My chest tightened. “Okay.”
“I know what Zero told you,” she continued. “And I know how it must have sounded.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say.
Sam took a deep breath. “Derek and I were married when I was eighteen. He was twenty-six. We wanted a family, but I couldn’t get pregnant.
When I asked him to get tested, he changed.
He became angry, started yelling, throwing things.
I convinced myself it was stress, and I was desperate to fix things. ”
She paused, her jaw tight.
“There was a man in town who looked like Derek, same hair, same chin. His name was Jack. When I was ovulating, I deliberately sought him out for a one-night stand, thinking a baby would save our marriage.”
My eyes snapped to hers.
“Derek knew immediately I’d lied because he’d had a vasectomy years before; he never wanted children. He was terrified of becoming his father, but he never shared that with me.” Sam’s voice shook. “He lost it. He beat me so badly I ended up in the hospital.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“A friend from work named Carrie helped me escape. After Charlie was born, notes started appearing from Derek, saying he wanted us back, that we should give Charlie up for adoption, start over. Carrie convinced me Derek was stalking us, so we ran. For years, we moved every few weeks, every few months.”
Sam’s hands clenched. “We finally settled in Diamond Creek. Then one day, Jack walked into the diner where I worked. He was relentless in his pursuit, but I pushed him away. Until I ran into him at Walmart, and Charlie was with me. Jack and I got close, and then another note arrived.”
“How did Derek find you?” I whispered.
“He didn’t. Derek had no idea where we were until I sent him divorce papers.” Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “The notes weren’t from Derek. They were from Carrie. She’d been with Derek before we met, and they’d had a child together who she lost.”
My stomach dropped.
“Derek came to town to confront me about the petition to have Charlie’s birth certificate changed.
He knew I was with the man I’d cheated on him with; he didn’t know it was the brother he’d never known until he saw Jack at the clubhouse.
He signed the divorce papers and signed away his rights to Charlie, but he didn’t leave, and we didn’t know why.
“Carrie had disappeared when I confronted her about the notes, then she kidnapped Charlie. She went to the motel to find Derek; she wanted Charlie to replace the child they lost. But Carrie had a gun. They fought over it, and it went off. Carrie died.”
Sam reached for my hand. “Derek saved my daughter. When we got there, he was holding Charlie, protecting her, tears running down his face. But I realized then he was a broken boy who’d never learned how to love.”
She squeezed my hand. “He started therapy with Haizley. He’s been doing the work—real, hard work, to understand his trauma and change. He’s not the man who hurt me. He’s a man who will do anything to protect the people he loves, even if it costs him everything.”
Sam’s voice steadied. “I forgave him because I realized he genuinely wanted to change. He deserves to be judged for who he is now, not who he was then.”
I looked at her, tears streaming down my face.
“What Zero did was wrong, and Derek should have told you. But he’s a good man, Kat,” Sam said. “I promise you that. And if you give him a chance, I think you’ll see it too.”
I nodded slowly, unable to find words.