“Are you saying Nick is so spineless that you tell him to do something and he does it?”

Aidan grinned. “Of course not.”

“So how is this on you? Besides, you’re not the problem. Ceallach is. He’s not a nice man.”

“No, he’s a genius.”

She snorted. “That’s no excuse for bad behavior. Kipling was a world-class athlete and he manages to be a decent guy. Being gifted isn’t an excuse to be a jerk.”

“You’re so fierce,” he teased.

“You’re my friend. I don’t want anyone hurting you.”

His humor faded. “He can’t hurt me, Shelby. That power ended a long time ago.”

She knew he believed what he was saying, but she was less sure. From all that she’d learned and experienced personally, parents could always hurt their children. It was just one of those things that came with being a kid. Being someone’s child wasn’t a connection you outgrew.

“I think the problem is no one expected anything of him,” she said. “Emotionally, I mean. Because of who he was and what he could do, he wasn’t required to live up to the rest of society’s standards. He got a pass and somewhere along the way, bad behavior became synonymous with brilliance.”

“Speaking of standards.” Aidan showed her the pie pan. “Even enough?”

She inspected the crust. “Perfection. Okay, into the oven and set the timer.”

He pulled off his gloves, did as she requested, then read over the next step of the recipe.

“It wasn’t just society,” he said as he collected eggs from the refrigerator. “Mom always told us we had to work around Dad’s schedule. She enabled him from the start. He doesn’t have a bigger fan than her. She would walk through fire for him.”

Shelby leaned against the island counter. “Is it just women who do that?” she asked. “I hate to generalize, but how often do men act that way? Surrendering to another person because they’re supposedly so gifted. I’m sure it happens, but we seem to hear about women doing it more. Do you think we’re biologically more ready to serve?”

“By we you mean all women?”

She smiled. “Yes, Aidan. I wasn’t including you in the we statement.”

“Good. Because I’m the only other person here. I accept getting in touch with my feminine side, but I’m not ready to start a gender-changing journey.”

She looked at his broad shoulders and the handsome lines of his face. “Not something you have to worry about. And you didn’t answer my question.”

He grimaced. “I was hoping to distract you.”

“I promise you won’t get in trouble for your answer.”

“I’m taking you at your word.” He pulled a whisk out of a drawer. “Yes, I think women are more willing to worship, for lack of a better word, when it comes to the men in their lives. I don’t know if it’s biological or cultural. But more women than men will live in servitude. My mom is a prime example. She would tell you it was for the greater good. That the world is a better place because of what Ceallach Mitchell has created. If there was a price paid for that, she would say it was worth it.”

“Would you?”

One shoulder rose. “I don’t know. We all survived. We’re all doing fine. Every childhood has a few bumps and bruises.”

She knew what he meant by the phrase, but found herself thinking of her mother. Of how she’d allowed Shelby’s father to beat her. When did a parent cross the line from supportive spouse to monster?

“Shelby? You okay?”