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She touches my hand, but my eyes never leave her father’s. I’ve seen hate in peoples’ eyes before. I saw it in the eyes of the man on the side of the road just before the explosion. I see it blazing at me from the depths of her father’s soul.

“Get your hands off my daughter.” It’s a low growl, but it quickly grows louder. “Get your hands off my family.”

“Daddy, stop!” Drew tries to come between us, but he grabs her arm and steps in front of her, blocking her from me with his body.

“Get out of this house.” He’s shouting now. “Get out of this town. You never belonged here. You never should have come here.”

Every word is like a whip against my skin, ripping me open, and leaving me to bleed.

“You’ve taken everything from me. You’re not taking my daughter.”

“Daddy!” Drew struggles to get out of his grip.

I can’t stand to see her this way. I know how much she wanted to help him, and my presence is tearing them apart.

I take a step back, but he’s right on top of me screaming. “Danny was the hero, not you. You should have died in the desert. Not him.”

My vision clouds like the smoke from the blast. Still, I’m not afraid. The emotions burning my chest are different from before. This time, I feel like he’s right. He’s repeating the words I’ve said to myself so many times.

For all his faults, Danny was the star of this town. He was the heir to his family’s good name. I’m guilty. I’m broken.

I make my way to the exit, Carl screaming behind me. “I never want to see your face in my house again! I never want to see you in my town. GET OUT!”

Chapter 29

Drew

Sunday comes, and I still can’t find Gray.

My dad is locked in his bedroom, but it’s difficult for me to care. I know I should try to care. I know he’s sick and broken, but I can’t forgive what he said to Gray. I can’t let go of my anger.

After Gray left, I tried calling him, but my calls went to voicemail. I jumped in the Jag and drove to the garage, but he wasn’t there. I drove all over town, but he wasn’t anywhere in Oakville.

For two days I’ve been calling and sending texts. I only got one answer, late last night.

Gray: I have to go away, Drew-baby. Take care of your dad. Help him like you always wanted to do.

Of course, I texted back as soon as I saw it.

Me: Please come back. Let me help you.

He never replies.

By Monday morning, my heart is in my throat and guilt is heavy on my shoulders. I finally break into my dad’s room, and whiskey bottles are strewn all over the floor.

“How did he even get these?” I step over the discarded bottles, racing to where he’s laying against the wall. “Dad?” I shake his shoulder.

His head lolls to the side, and he slurs my mother’s name. Even through my anger, my heart breaks a little seeing him this way. He’s too heavy to lift, which means I have to call 911 to get him to the hospital.

He’ll be humiliated and furious when he comes around, but I can’t worry about that now. It’s a matter of life or death.

Driving behind the ambulance, I call Ruby and ask her to cover my appointments for the next few days—or reschedule them if the clients don’t feel comfortable talking to her.

Pacing the waiting room of the hospital, I’ve never felt so alone. Dad is the last family I have… apart from Gray. My phone is in my hand, and I send another text.

Me: I need you here.

It’s like the lost year, that dark year, all over again. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I crouch in a corner in the far end of the waiting room, closing my eyes as the tears fall.