The stark words hung in the air between them. Aidan’s expression tightened but he didn’t say anything.

“One of my earliest memories was of my mom screaming as my dad hit her. I remember being so scared. But when I was little, he never hit me, so in a strange way, I was safe. He didn’t hit Kipling—not like he hit my mom. Maybe it was because Kipling was his son. I don’t know.”

She reached for her coffee, then realized her hands were trembling and put down the mug. “Kip left when I was about ten. He was a great skier and went off to train. He swore he would always be there for me if things got bad.” She felt her mouth twist. “That’s how we described what happened. In terms of how bad it was.”

Had he put her mom in the hospital this time? Were there broken bones? Because like so many families dealing with something awful, they spoke around the truth.

“I remember asking my mom why she stayed and she said it was because she loved him so much. It didn’t make sense to me, but I knew in my heart she would never go. And he didn’t hit me, so we just lived like that. With the unspoken rules. Don’t make Dad mad. Don’t try to protect my mom. Don’t get in the way.”

There had been so many awful times. Nights when she’d cleaned split skin and held ice against bruises. Times when she’d tried to figure out if a bone was broken and whether or not she should call 911.

“And then I turned thirteen.”

Shelby still didn’t know what had set off her father. Whether it was her birthday or the onset of puberty or what. But the day after she turned thirteen, he hit her for the first time.

“It hurts,” she said quietly. “I’d heard her scream a million times, but until he decked me with his fist, I had no idea how much pain there could be. The shock of it stunned me. The sense of betrayal, of helplessness. My mom tried to stop him, but he pushed her into the wall and kept coming after me.”

She’d been knocked unconscious. There had been dozens of bruises but no broken bones. To this day, she didn’t know if she’d had a concussion because going to the doctor was out of the question.

“I called Kip the next morning. He was home in twelve hours and he got me out of there. He was already on the ski circuit, with endorsements and stuff. So he could afford to put me in a boarding school. I stayed there through high school. My mom would visit. Only my mom. I didn’t see my dad again for years.”

Funny how she could get through all this without tears. Maybe she’d cried herself out years ago. She wasn’t sure.

“I would plead with her to leave him,” she continued. “Kip would get us an apartment. Dad never had to know. But she wouldn’t do it. She kept talking about how much she loved him and how he loved her.”

She looked at Aidan and was grateful for the lack of emotion on his face. His dark eyes gave nothing away and that was how she preferred it.

“She was always bruised. She did her best to cover it up, but I knew what to look for. She would stay with me for a few days, then go back to him.”

She shifted in her seat and put her hands on her lap. “We lived like that for years. Then she got cancer. It was bad. By the time she told me about it, she only had a few weeks to live. I went back to be with her. Which meant being with him.”

She squared her shoulders. “It all started again. I knew more and tried to protect myself, but he would come after me while I was sleeping. I would wake up with him beating me. It was horrible. More horrible than you can imagine. Kip was just starting back with his training after winning at the Olympics. I didn’t want to bother him, but I didn’t think I could take it anymore. Then he was injured and in the hospital in New Zealand. The doctors weren’t even sure he would walk again. I knew I had to get through my mom’s last weeks on my own. For her. I had to do my best not to let him surprise me. But it’s hard not to sleep. A couple of times I got a hotel room for the night, but that wasn’t a long-term solution. I was genuinely scared for my life when these two men showed up.”