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Immy sucked in a breath.

There was a part of her that wondered if she was dreaming. Maybe she’d been knocked unconscious.

But if she wasn’t dreaming . . .

“I couldn’t imagine being happy without you . . . without either of you.” She glanced over at Tobias, then back to Jenner. “Why did you never tell me how you felt?”

“Because I’m completely fucked in the head.”

That was not what she’d been expecting Jenner to say. “What?”

Another humorless chuckle. “Turns out, my father really messed me up. Not that it’s entirely his fault . . . but I . . . I tried my hardest to see you as someone innocent, as my sister. You were untouchable and I had to remember that . . . because touching you would be wrong. I couldn’t defile you.”

“Defile me? What are you talking about?” she asked. He was making no sense.

“Remember how I used to sneak into your bedroom at night at the Camp?”

“Yes, of course. You said that your father hurt you. I wish I’d known that back then, although sometimes I’d hear you grunt in pain. I guess I was too scared to ask you what was going on in case you didn’t want to tell me.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done, baby,” he told her. “And you’re right, I probably wouldn’t have told you.”

“Oh, I could have thought of something,” she said in a dark voice. “I would have found something to do to that asshole.”

“Then I’m glad you didn’t know,” he told her firmly. “Because the last thing I would’ve wanted was you getting caught and punished.”

“I can’t believe he hit you. I’m so sorry that happened to you. I wish I could have protected you.” She felt terrible that she hadn’t even known. Had she been too self-involved to notice the pain he was going through?

“Hey, listen to me.” He cupped the side of her face, turning it toward him. “None of what happened to me is on you.”

“I’m your friend. I never want you to hurt,” she told him.

“And I feel the same about you,” Jenner told her. “And it fucking guts me that I’m the one who has hurt you. I hate that I have caused you pain. I don’t even fucking deserve you.”

“Don’t say that. You do deserve me.”

“I don’t, baby. But I’m trying to make it so I do. Which is why I’ve been going back to therapy.”

“You have been? How did I not know that?” she asked.

“I haven’t told anyone but Sampson. He spoke to me a while ago about the way I was treating you. Therapy is making me realize exactly how screwed up I am.” He sat on the side of the bed facing her and Tobias did the same on her other side.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to call yourself screwed up,” she told him.

“Don’t care,” he replied. “It’s what I am. My father, God. What a fucking piece of work. I was never strong enough, smartenough, tough enough. He always told me I was too sensitive, too weak. He would want me to do these things . . . things that weren’t right.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like helping him punish members of the cult that had been disobedient. If a man broke the rules, then he’d often punish their wife or daughter.”

“How?” Tobias asked in a tight voice.

“He’d hurt them physically. Break a finger or toe. Worse if they’d done something really bad. When I refused to help him, then he’d punish me as well. He used to tell me how I would never measure up to Sampson. He was the golden child.”

“Did Sampson ever help him?” Tobias asked.

“No, not that I know of. I think he was slightly scared of Sampson. From an early age, Sampson was a big guy and he was protective. He wouldn’t have been able to help our father hurt others.”

“But you couldn’t either,” Tobias pointed out.