“I know Anita didn’t tell you all that,” Edward said, and his voice wasn’t neutral or angry now.

   “Peter needed someone he could tell the whole truth to, and you’ve set him up so he can’t tell anyone else.”

   “He hasn’t even told me all the details, and I already know them,” Edward asked.

   “He hinted and I told him about my background. Once he knew that I’d been abused and raped, too, he was pretty sure I wouldn’t judge him for what happened to him. It’s hard for men to admit they were victims. I invited him up to our men’s group here, but he’s not ready to talk in group yet.”

   “You have a group?” Edward asked.

   “There are more men with stories like Peter’s and mine than you think.”

   “It’s not that . . . I’m sorry, Nathaniel. I didn’t know that you were . . . helping Peter. Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t be.”

   The anger just leaked away from Nathaniel. He looked surprised. “You’re welcome. He’s a decent person, confused, a little broken, but strong and trying to figure out if he’s Robin to your Batman, or something else.”

   “Did he talk to you about some of his . . . girlfriends?”

   “Yes.”

   “And?”

   “And Peter asked my advice on a few things. He wanted to know that he wasn’t a freak for enjoying what he enjoyed.”

   “What did you tell him?” Edward asked.

   “That he’s not a freak. He just has to make sure that it’s all safe, sane, and consensual. He and I have talked a lot about consent.”

   “I tried to talk to him about sex,” Edward said.

   “I know, but he couldn’t talk to you about some of it. You’re his dad, and you’re more vanilla than he is.”

   Somehow vanilla was not a word I would have used for Edward, ever, but then he and I didn’t discuss his sex life. I just gave him the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t pure vanilla.

   “I don’t understand some of the things that Peter . . . wants.”

   “He knows that, and he knows you tried to understand, but his kinks are not your kinks, and you sent him to a therapist who treated his interest in bondage and submission as a part of his brokenness.”

   “His therapist feels that Peter is acting out about his own abuse and anger from it in the bondage and rough sex.”

   “Some, but whether it’s from the abuse or was inside him waiting to be part of his sexuality doesn’t really matter.”

   “Of course it matters.”

   “No, Edward, it really doesn’t. What matters is that Peter doesn’t feel like a freak or a monster but understands that his sexuality is okay. I stressed that he has to negotiate any scene play, so that his partner knows exactly what’s going to happen and agrees to it all. I also told him that just because he fantasizes about something doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it in reality, and that some fantasies must always remain as just that, fantasies.”

   “Has he told you his fantasies?”

   “Some.”

   “I won’t ask you to tell me.”

   “Good, because I wouldn’t betray his trust like that.”

   “Can I ask you something, with you promising not to tell Peter?”

   “Depending on what it is. I can’t promise blindly.”

   “I guess that’s fair. I told Anita that I was worried Peter was going to be an abuser, because of what happened to him.”

   “He could be, but he doesn’t want to be, and sometimes when things like this happen to you, just deciding not to become the monster is enough to avoid it.”

   “He’s a predator like I’m a predator, and that’s not just from what happened to him at fourteen,” Edward said.

   “No, it’s not,” Nathaniel said.

   “I told Anita that I was afraid Peter would take it that extra step and be more of a predator than I am; do you understand?”

   “You’re worried that the fact that he likes it rough, even violent, in the bedroom means he’s going to turn into a serial killer.”

   “I told you I didn’t think that was true of Peter, when you asked me, Edward,” I said.

   “But he hasn’t talked in detail to you like he has to Nathaniel.”

   “You don’t just become a serial killer, Edward,” Nathaniel said, “not without long-term and systematic abuse, which is not what happened to Peter.”

   “You can be born one,” Edward said.

   “Edward,” I said, “Nathaniel’s right. You don’t just become a serial killer without more damage than Peter has had in his life.”

   Nathaniel said, “Was Peter a bed-wetter when he was younger?”

   “No.”

   “Does he have a history of starting fires?”

   “No.”

   “Torturing animals?”

   “No,” and that last no sounded more relaxed than the first two.

   “Peter is missing the serial killer trifecta, so he’s not a born serial anything. He saw a werewolf kill his father in front of him when he was eight, and he picked up the gun his father dropped and killed the beast, saving his mother and baby sister. That’s traumatic, but it was also brave and heroic. Maybe it made him more prone to violence in other parts of his life, or maybe the violence was always in there; maybe that’s what helped him be able to pick the gun up and use it to kill the monster that killed his father. Being good at violence isn’t always a negative. You should know that better than most people.”

   “You’re right. I should, but it’s always different when it’s your kid.”

   “I hope to find out how different someday,” Nathaniel said, then turned to give me a look that was far too serious.

   “Don’t look at me. I’m not planning on breeding, thanks.”

   “Kids are great, Anita,” Edward said.

   “Don’t you start.”

   “I can’t imagine you pregnant and doing our job, but I can’t imagine you never wanting kids either.”

   “I really thought you’d be on my side on this one, Edward.”

   “I’m not on anyone’s side. I just want my best friend happy, whatever that means for her.”

   Nathaniel smiled at me.