I hate that my voice trembles. I hate that my chin quivers. I hate that he can see how weak I am, how weak and pathetic. But this will all be over soon and I’ll be on my way back to Enchantment. There, I can hide. There, I can lick my wounds in private. There, I can disappear until I find a new way forward. Until I can get away and start a new life.
Again.
Rogan shakes his head as though to clear it, like he’s overwhelmed. I guess he didn’t think he’d get caught so red-handed. Or maybe he just thought he’d never get caught at all.
When he finally collects himself, he drops to one knee in front of me, his eyes trained steadily on mine. “Katie, listen to me. I don’t know what she said or why she’d tell you that, but as God is my witness, I never told Victoria your secret. I’ve never told anyone. I would never do that to you. I thought you trusted me.”
Again, he looks wounded. And again, it kills me to see his hurt.
I remind myself that it’s probably not even real, though. It’s probably as fabricated as everything else has been between us. Facts don’t lie. And I’m drowning in facts right now.
I can’t give in. I can’t trust him. That’s why I’m in this position to start with.
“I did trust you, Rogan. And look where it got me.”
“I don’t . . . I didn’t . . . Katie, I swear I—”
“You’re the only one who knew except Mona. And even if she were going to betray me after two years, she certainly wouldn’t tell Victoria of all people.”
Rogan bows his head in defeat. I won. Only I don’t feel like the victor.
After several seconds of quiet, his head snaps up and his wide eyes lock onto mine. “Ronnie. Ronnie knew. From the night he attacked you. And I’ve seen him talking to Victoria on more than one occasion.”
I frown. I had forgotten about the incident with Ronnie. He most definitely knew my secret, saw my scars firsthand. And as much as I would love to refute the accuracy of what Rogan is saying, I can’t.
Even in my tiny little world inside the studio, I’ve heard the rumors floating around about Ronnie’s fascination with Victoria. If he knew how she felt about me, maybe he gave her some dirt to get in her good graces.
“I’m sure neither of us rank high on his list of favorite people,” Rogan adds, watching me with hopeful eyes. “Please, Katie. You have to believe me. I would never, never do something like that to you.”
Like he’s been able to do from the day we met, I feel Rogan softening me, taking the edge off my anger, soothing my hurt. Breaking down my defenses. But it’s no matter. The fact remains that he can’t be trusted. His associations prove that.
“Fine. I’ll give you that one, but what about Senator Sims? And Calvin? How could I ever trust someone who’s in league with men like that?”
Sadness steals over Rogan’s handsome face and stabs at my heart. “They’re just business associates, Katie. Nothing more. I had no way of knowing what they’d done to you.”
“But you can understand why I can’t have anything to do with them. Nothing. At all. Ever. Right?”
Rogan gazes intently at me. His silence might be more painful than anything else. Something tells me that this is the one thing he can’t explain away. Can’t fix. Can’t or won’t.
He looks defeated.
“Yes, I completely understand. And as much as I hate them both for what they did to you . . .” I see his jaw flex as he looks away from me, like he’s resisting murderous impulses. “As much as I’d like to tear them both limb from limb, there’s nothing I can do about it. They’re . . . I can’t . . . There’s just nothing I can do.”
Suddenly I feel desperate, desperate for him to explain it away in terms that won’t rip me apart. But I’m terrified that he won’t. “But why? What are they to you?”
“They’re . . . well, Senator Sims is my benefactor.”
I guess, when it boils down to it, I was secretly hoping that Rogan would be able to explain away his association with the two most awful men that I know. Part of me even expected that he might chase me down in Enchantment and explain it all away and we could pick up where we left off. But reality isn’t like a romance novel. Sometimes there isn’t a happy ending to be had. Sometimes things just don’t work out.
“So this is about money? You’d keep people like that close to you for money? Knowing, now, what they did to me?”
I’m incredulous. I’m confused. I’m devastated.
“It’s not about the money.”
“Then what is it about?”