“I wasn’t gonna say that. I’m just scared. That’s all.”
“So then, he has hit you.”
“What?” Rain frowned. “You mean Milo? No, Tristan, he’s never hit me. I can understand how you could draw that conclusion from what you saw that afternoon, but Milo’s harmless, he’s just—”
“Harmless? You sure? The guy was shaking you like a you were—well, a puppet.”
“No, wait. He does have a short fuse, and he’s thrown shit around, grabbed me, or locked me up in closets, but nothing more.”
Tristan pulled away and leaning on his elbow, gave him a stern look. “Grabbed you? Locked you in closets?”
“He gets crazy, yes, but he’s never hitme.” Rain sat up. Tristan had touched a nerve. Why was he defending Milo’s behavior? “He’s in therapy. He’s doing better. He had a really bad start in life. His father killed himself when Milo was just a confused teen and it left a deep scar in his heart.”