Killian was laid out on the couch. Naomi was on top of him, her eyes closed, but he knew she wasn't sleeping, not yet at least. He played with her, strands of soft, long hair.

He wondered what she would think of him when he told her. He needed to tell someone. Mickie knew, but that was about it.

Naomi shifted, placing her palm on chest. "You're tensing up. You okay?" she asked, her eyes finally opening up.

"I am not who you think I am," he admitted quietly.

She moved again so she could look at him, and then waited patiently for him to speak.

"There used to be a pack just north of the city which is about an hour from here. My dad had to go up there for some business, and I was going with him. My mom wanted to pick up something for Christmas at one of the box stores up there." He exhaled, and she rubbed his chest soothingly. "They ambushed us while we were shopping. We weren't even enemies with them."

He shook his head, clearing the dark memories. "I don't know why they spared me. I didn't know how to live without them." A tear fell onto his cheek, and Naomi's heart clenched. She reached up to brush it away.

"I killed them," he said. "Just the two that attacked us. I was so angry. My mom would be so disappointed in me." He thought of his sweet mom. She was always by his side. She always supported him no matter what. And his dad. He was a hard-ass, stern most of the time, but loved Killian with all of his heart.

He didn't know what he had until it was ripped away from him.

"I know that changes the way you look at me-"

She stopped him. "It doesn't. I stabbed my uncle."

He was stunned. His mouth probably gaped a bit. He held back the inappropriate laughter and she settled back down.

"You what?"

"After that first night, I was in so much pain. I know he was going to do it again, and I wasn't sure I would make it through that." The memories didn't feel painful anymore, not after what Killian had shared.

"So I snuck a knife from a kitchen, and when he came into my room, I was ready for him."

Killian couldn't imagine Naomi with a knife. "Did you kill him?"

"No," she said after some hesitation. She had thought about it. What if he had come after her? Or chosen not to give her to the group home?

"It doesn't change the way I look at you," she told him. "Whoever that was that did that, isn't the man I love."

"I'm proud of you, Naomi," he said, going back to playing with her hair. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you."

"I think I would've liked your parents," she murmured.

He sighed, "I have no doubt my mom would want to be your best friend."

It was quiet. She scooted up so she could rest her head in his neck, and he pulled the blanket up higher.

"We should honor them somehow," she told him, her hands going to his jaw where it rested.

He had never given it any thought, and that made him feel guilty. He should have done something sooner, not let years drag on.

She placed her lips on his neck, and he focused on the feel of his sweet girl laying on him.

"You're right. You'll have to help me think of something."

There was relief to both of them, to finally be rid of all secrets and all pain. It was finally time to move on.