For the first time since arriving here, Gwen’s face is filled with emotion—but only one. Pity. It’s clear as day, but I don’t need it.Don’t want it. I made my decisions, and I’m living with them.
“You’re wrong, girl,” Gwen says, shaking her head.
“Fine, let’s say you’re right. You forgive them, but they don’t change. What then? Because in my experience, it eventually leads to a lot of resentment.”
“Seventy times seven.”
My brows dip. “What?”
“That’s how many times Jesus told us to forgive. You see, after my son died, I was angry, but not just at Austin. I was angry at myself, too. I started looking for ways to ease the anger and guilt I was feeling, and it eventually led me to work at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center where I met a lot of people who were just like my son. The rehabilitation center I was working at had a class for parents and loved ones of addicts. One of my coworkers pushed me to attend, and I did. It changed my life.Seventy times seven. It was the first time I’d ever heard that. One of the other parents, who had been coming there a lot longer than I had, mentioned it. Right after that meeting, I went and looked it up. One of Jesus’s disciples asked him how many times he needed to forgive. Jesus’s answer was seventy times seven. That number stuck with me, but it was the verses before that that really made a difference. What to know what they said?”
“What?” I croak, my throat dry.
“I’m paraphrasing here, but the parable tells us that we should go to those who wrong us and talk to them, but—if their actions do not change—then we should distance ourselves from them. You see, the thing is, those verses are together for a reason. Forgiveness does not mean we have to continue to accept the same treatment. It just means we don’t have to hold on to our anger.”
“Are you implying anger is worse than addiction?” I ask, scoffing at the notion.
“I’m saying that both can be just as deadly.”
I look at Theo. “And you—do you believe all of this?”
Gwen’s laugh cuts through Theo’s answer. “We’re still working on that boy. He doesn’t know how to let go of guilt that is not his to hold. Isn’t that right, Theo?”
Theo dips his chin, his cheeks turning a brilliant red, and he mutterssomething about not being here for him.
I can’t decide if I’m thankful or angry that he brought me here. I can see his intention, but one text doesn’t mean he knows the situation between my mom and me. I’m glad he has Gwen—that she helped him get through his addiction—and I hope one day he sees that he earned his forgiveness. Both from Tanner and himself. After hearing her story, I’m even glad Gwen was able to find her peace, but that doesn’t change how I see things. What my mom did will never be okay.
Chapter 26
Theo
The paperwork that has to be completed when you find out a fire is caused by arson is a headache. I’ve been slugging my way through it for days, and I’m still not even close to finishing it.
I’m about ready to call it quits when I hear a knock at my door.
“Chief,” Shane says, standing just inside the doorway. “There’s a kid here to see you.”
He backs out of the room, leaving my visitor to come in.
My first thought is Tanner, but my stomach drops when I see a head full of blonde hair and terrified green eyes staring back at me.
“Morgan, what are you doing here?” I ask, dropping my papers and standing up from my desk. “What’s wrong?”
A horrible cough comes from behind him, and I lean over to see around him.
Mia is standing there, her little body shivering despite the summer heat. She has a white blanket wrapped around her, and she’s almost the same color. Dark bags mark the underside of her eyes, and she looks like she can barely hold herself up.
In one quick motion, Morgan spins around, lifting her in his arms and cupping his hand to beat her back as a cough wracks her entire body.
“How long has she been like that?” I asked, concerned by the wetness of her cough.
“A couple of days. I thought she would get better. I thought—I don’t know what to do, man.” The panic in Morgan’s voice is undeniable. He’s a young kid, terrified of losing his sister.
I jump into action, grabbing my keys from my desk and shoving my wallet in my back pocket as I walk toward the door.
“Let’s go,” I say, my voice a firm demand as I gently take Mia from his arms and wrap her in mine. The heat coming off her little body could scorch an egg. Her head falls against my shoulder, and I tighten my arms, holding her so she knows I won’t let her fall.
“Where are we going?” It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the kid look vulnerable. Even when I learned about his living situation, he didn’t look this lost.
