“I have no excuse for shutting myself away from you, Branna, only that I did not know how to go on without your mother. It was as if the light had suddenly gone from my life and I lived only in darkness.”
I should have been your light too.
“I went through the motions of making your lunch and cooking and clothing you, but I could do nothing else. The psychiatrist the school made me see said I was suffering from clinical depression and that a change would be the best thing for us. I spoke to your teachers before deciding to come here, and they said you were a quiet but studious girl who seemed to be coping quite well with the loss of your mother.”
She’d become skilled at hiding.
“So, we came here and I watched as you apparently settled into your new school. You didn’t ask me for anything besides the necessities and you did your homework and made no demands on me, and I thought that meant you were doing okay, which left me time to grieve and wallow in my pain. I gave you no time until the day I found a flyer you’d left in your room. It said you were part of a band that was singing at lunchtime that day, so I went along to watch, and it was that day I realized I’d lost you, because the child who had once told me everything had kept this from me.”
Please stop.
Branna wanted to put her hands over her ears to shut out his voice. She couldn’t breathe; his words were thrusting her back into that place filled with pain.
“I brought more coffee.” The hand Buster put on her shoulder was large and warm, and she felt the support that came with it. Sucking in a breath, she slowly exhaled.
“Thanks, Buster.”
“You let me know if you need anything else.”
“We will,” she said, giving him a quick look before lowering her eyes to the table once more.
“You have friends here.”
“Yes.”
Declan O’Donnell sighed at her tone before he resumed his story.
“That day, as I stood at the back of that auditorium and watched you sing, I knew what I had become and how I had let you down. I went home and began to make changes. I took you out for dinner that night, and other than please and thank you, you said nothing to me, no matter how many questions I asked you.”
Because I knew you blamed me for killing her.
“I continued to try, but you seemed to grow more distant, and then after your graduation, you came home and told me you were leaving for WSU. Showed me the paperwork and that you had organized a place to stay. You calmly told me how you’d forged my signature and that the only thing you would need from me was some money to get there, as you had been given a scholarship and would get a job.
“I tried to talk to you, tell you I’d take you there, but you said in that cold, calm way you had adopted that you needed nothing further from me. I stood and watched the bus take you away from me, my sixteen-year-old daughter who was a mere child and felt my heart break all over again.”
“No!” Branna jumped to her feet and looked down at her father. “Don’t speak to me of love, not now, not when I don’t need or want it anymore.”
“Branna—”
“No.” She sliced a hand through the air. “You had your say. Now I get mine.”
“Sit then.”
“I don’t want to sit. I want to talk, and then I want to leave.” She sucked in another breath. “You blamed me for her death and turned your back on me when I had no one else to turn to. I was broken inside. I hurt so bad that just breathing seemed to take too much effort. I heard your words that day, heard you say there was nothing left for you now that she was gone.”
“No, Branna, I never meant them that way.” His green eyes were filled with anguish, but she didn’t care; she wanted to hurt him like he had her.
“You couldn’t even stand to look at me. I was a constant reminder of her death. So, I tried to be as quiet as I could, tried to keep out of your sight, and then we moved here to Howling.”
He was pale now; all color had left his face.
“The other students had friends… a small community like this, everyone had grown up together, and there I was, an outsider who talked funny. So, one day I woke up and went through the house and found every pill I could. Then I hid them in my room.” Branna fought the tears; she wouldn’t cry yet, not with him watching.
“No, Branna—”
He rose too and reached a hand toward her, but she stepped back and it fell to his side.
“I went to school for the last time that day, deciding that I’d take them that night and the pain would be gone. Then you’d be rid of me… the constant reminder of what you had lost.”
