Page 101 of All the Beautiful Things
Her voice went cold and monotone.
“Why are they out?”
She held a glass of wine in her hand like she forgot she had it at all. Lilly had told me about the letters, that she’d written her parents, but she’d never said she kept them, just that they were returned.
All of that familiar anger I felt whenever I thought of her parents, what they not only did to her but what they allowed to have happen to her bubbled in my gut.
When I first stepped into my home and saw what she’d done for me—for us—this was not at all how I considered the night would go.
“Lilly—”
She set down her wine and twisted so she was facing me. Pressing her knees to my thigh, my hand fell to them, sliding up and down her denim-covered legs.
“Because I wanted tonight to be the night I said goodbye to them. And I wanted you with me for it, it’s just… taking me a minute to be prepared to do so, I think.”
She should have said goodbye to them the moment her dad told her to take the fall for something she didn’t do.
I bit my tongue to keep from saying it out loud and waited until she was ready to tell me more.
When she only rested her head on my shoulder and let out a sigh, I bent forward. “Can I see them?”
“I reread them earlier. So stupid. I spent the first year begging for their forgiveness. I wrote fifteen letters apologizing for killing Josh, begging my dad to help me get out. Then, I started pleading with them to write me back, to come and see me. I begged parents who essentially threw me in jail themselves to come and see me. What kind of stupid, stupid person does something like that?”
My hand tangled in her hair and I brushed through her curls. Her pulse thundered a rapid pace at her throat while she all but burrowed into me.
“You’re not stupid. You were a teenage girl who wanted to be loved, Lilly. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Except for seven years, I never got that memo. For seven years I pleaded and begged. I tried to convince them I was different. That I changed. That I was better. That I could be the daughter they would want around them.”
“Lilly.” Her name was all I could say. The only thing she’d want to hear because if she kept talking, I might risk admitting what I wanted to do to her parents. Which involved a shallow grave and the possibility of me spending more than seven years where she’d been.
“It’s stupid, isn’t it? A daughter should never have to beg and plead for her parents to love her. It should just be given, right?”
“It should.” Unfortunately, we both knew how sometimes that simply didn’t happen. “Why are you doing this tonight?”
“Because tomorrow’s Christmas, and I know it’s not the New Year yet, but I guess… I guess I wanted to say goodbye to them before I started new memories with your family.”
The stack of envelopes was a heavy weight burning my palm, but on the table, there was one letter left.
She reached forward and held it gingerly between her fingers. “I’m sending this one to my mom. I figured if I used Valor Holdings envelopes, there’s a greater chance she’ll open it.”
Or her dad would. Knowing what I knew of her family, my bet was Lilly’s mom didn’t get the option to do much of anything in her life.
“So, how is this one different?”
“I told my mom how disappointed I was in her for not protecting us, for being so beaten down she let Dad have his way with us, beating the crap out of Josh. Ignoring me. I told her to tell my dad I hated him and everything he stood for. For his hypocrisy and throwing me into prison because he couldn’t deal with anyone saying anything bad about him. I told them that I started a life here, a good one, and I was glad they were so far away from me and wanted nothing to do with me because they could never tarnish what I’ve made for myself.”
Well, shit. She rattled it all off with a dead droll to her tone, making a rock grow into a boulder inside my stomach. “That’s a lot, Lilly. Pretty heavy.”
And would, undoubtedly, piss her father the hell off. She had to know the only consequence of that was her mom ending up the victim of her dad’s anger. If she didn’t think of that, I didn’t want to tell her. Pride was a living, pulsing thing inside my chest for what she wanted to say to them. How far she’d come. How much she’d grown.
“I don’t even know if they’ll read it, but I needed to say it regardless.”
I drifted my fingers through her hair, kissing the top of her head. For several moments I waited while she stared at the envelope.
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it like a frisbee back to the coffee table and blew out a breath.
“And how do you feel now?”
