“Where was your father?”
I force myself to answer through dry lips. “Away at a conference.”
His hand tightens on mine. “Your mom didn’t die of a heart attack, did she?”
I shake my head.
“What happened?”
I shudder out a breath. “She shot herself.”
There’s no surprise on Kane’s face.
“How did you find out?” I ask in a whisper.
“I did a little digging. A police statement mentioned a gun found at your house. Two days later though, the police officer retracted his statement. A couple of weeks after that, that same officer bought himself a brand-new BMW.”
A brittle laugh escapes me. “That would be my dad.”
“That was my guess.” A frown draws his brows together. “Why would your father want to cover it up? Why not come clean?”
“We never spoke about it, but I think he did it for me. I don’t believe he wanted me to live the rest of my life with the stigma of a mother who’d taken her own life. Or maybe it was Mom’s reputation Dad wantedto preserve.”
I bite my lip. And then I blurt out, “It was my fault. My mom shot herself because of me.” There’s such a feeling of relief in the telling. I didn’t expect to feel such relief.
“Now why would you think that?” Kane asks softly.
I tell him all about that selfish fourteen-year-old girl, how my lack of compassion drove my mother to end her life, to get away from a daughter who thought only of herself. There’s no need to mention that the same girl has become a self-centered thirty-three-year-old woman. There’s nothing revelatory about that aspect of my life.
After all, why become someone better when my mom couldn’t?
Why not live out the image my mother had of me in the last hours of her life?
That’s what I’ve been telling myself all these years. Now realization strikes me like a slap in the face. I got it so wrong.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, Kane wraps his arms around me for a hug that’s over way too soon.
“Nineteen years ago, your mom was sick and struggling in ways you couldn’t fix,” he says firmly, but his eyes are gentle. “What happened wasn’t on you. She made a choice you never should have had to live with.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes. My throat works to hold back the tears.
“That night, you were fourteen. Alone. In the dark.” His voice falters. “And I locked you in the dark again. If I could take that back, I would.”
Tears slip down my cheeks, my breath catching at his words.
Concern sweeps over his face. “Hey, please don’t cry. It kills me to see you upset.”
The tears come harder. He gathers me up against him again, holding me as though I’m infinitely precious, touching his lips to my hair. An ache swells in my throat at his tenderness.
Maybe it’s time to forgive fourteen-year-old me and stop punishing myself. Maybe a better way to honor my mom would be to become a better, less destructive version of myself.
“There’s something I’m having trouble understanding,” Kane says. “Maybe you can help.”
“I’ll try.”
He draws back so his eyes lock with mine. “This hasnothingto do with your kidnapping,” he says, then winces. “No, that’s a lie. Everything does.” He exhales slowly. “But I need you to know this question isn’t coming from the man who took you. It’s coming from the man who’s ashamed of what he did. Okay?”
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
