" Sometimes I wondered how many times my father had hit me before he beat the words out of me completely, before the idea of telling him — or anyone — how I felt seemed so pointless I couldn’t fathom it any longer. Charlie had been the one — the only one — to ever understand that about me. She’d let me love her with my actions, with my hands, with early morning breakfasts and bookshelves built in her honor. She read between the lines, finding the words I could never speak aloud, and for so long, it’d been enough for her. How stupid I was to believe it always would be. "

― Kandi Steiner , What He Doesn't Know (What He Doesn't Know, #1)