She nodded, throat heating, eyes blurring. But then she lifted her chin. “I’ll go, but not until I say what I came to say about your father.”
“Jesus, Isla.” He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “I’m really trying.”
“I know,” she said, watching the vein pulse violently in hisneck. “So am I. I’m trying to point out that you might have your dad all wrong. You think he’s a coward for not going after the man who murdered your mother.”
“Yes. Growing up, it was always an eye for an eye. He drilled that into me, Isla—over and over—and yet, Mom died, and he hid behind his badge, claiming it was against the law to take out the bastard who gutted my mother…his wife.”
She winced at his words and the venom with which he’d delivered them.
“What happened to the man who killed your mother?” he asked.
She frowned. “You don’t know?”
Earlier, she’d gotten the impression that he’d known about the shooting, but now his attitude made sense.
“No.” He shook his head. “Carter had mentioned she’d been killed in a mall shooting, and unlike you, I left it at that and didn’t dig into it. I was letting it for you to tell or not tell me. Either way, it was your choice.”
Her stomach clenched at the silent blow his words delivered. Yeah, she’d hurt him. Betrayed him. But it had been necessary. She just hoped he understood that after he heard what she was about to say and had some time to think.
She cleared her throat. “I said I was sorry. I didn’t do it to hurt you, I did it to help you.” She ignored his snort and lifted her chin. “Did you ever think your dad did you a favor?”
“Fuck, no.”
“Well, he did. Think about it, Sinjin. You were fourteen, and you said you had a sister, so I’m guessing she was young, too. What would’ve happened to the two of you had your father done what you wanted him to do? Huh? If he was convicted of premeditated murder—or manslaughter at the very least—I doubt he would’ve been given a slap on the wrist. Did you have any other relatives?”
He shook his head.
“Then I’m guessing you would’ve gone into the system and most likely been split up.”
He frowned at that possibility.
“So, your father’s in prison, possibly on death row, or even shanked inside if others discovered he was a cop. Tell me, would an eye for an eye have been worth it?”
Sinjin blinked and his expression grew pensive.
“No, Sinjin. The answer is no. Trust me. What your dad did took guts. I mean, real guts to ignore his needs and wants and put yours and your sister’s over his own.” By this time, Isla was shaking so badly that she leaned against the back of the couch to steady herself. “Don’t you see, your father put you first…his children first…and didn’t end up in prison or dead. He was around for you…it’s just so sad that you didn’t see that back then and you don’t see that now.”
With her throat too tight and heated, she turned and walked back out his door, having said mostly everything she’d wanted him to hear. Hopefully, by the time he digested her tirade, he’d forgive his father. It would all be worth it if she could help patch up his family. She just prayed it wasn’t at the cost of their friendship.
Chapter Thirteen
It felt like a heavy metal band was using the space between Sinjin’s ears for a drum solo and his chest as a platform for all their heavy gear.
Yeah, he felt like shit.
Not just from the fragments of nightmares that had plagued his minuscule bouts of slumber last night, but mostly from not going after Isla.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
He had opened his door to do just that around sundown yesterday but caught the taillights of her car as she pulled onto Main Street and drove out of sight.
When she hadn’t returned in several hours, he thought about texting her, but after their conversation and the way it had ended, he wasn’t exactly sure what to say or even if he should.
If he’d realized anything from that discussion, it was how different they really were. Isla thought they were similar but all he could see was one glaring difference.
She saved lives.
He took them.
