Page 91 of Negotiating Tactics

I shouldn’t say that, because who cares about me and what I may have lost?

You certainly don’t.

And you shouldn’t.

Me lying here on my deathbed knowing that no one will miss me when I’m gone is all my doing.

My responsibility.

And I own that.

I’m sorry, Noah.

I’m not asking for your forgiveness or even your understanding.

I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.

Good luck, son.

Please live a happy life, if only to spite me.

Sincerely,

Prescott Wilder

I held the letter for a long time after I read it, grappling with what it said.

I hadn’t expected that.

In fact, his words shocked the shit out of me.

I hadn’t been naive. I knew that I was less than an afterthought to Prescott.

To have him acknowledge that truth felt…

In this moment, I wasn’t at all sure what I felt.

The anger that had burned bright enough to fuel me when I was younger had faded to a faint disdain that I knew would always be there.

But Prescott was right in one thing.

I had turned out okay despite his absence.

More than I could say for most.

I pushed off the couch, grabbed the lighter, and headed to the kitchen.

I stared at the letter for a long moment, then struck the lighter and set the edge of the paper on fire.

Dropped it in the sink and watched as it curled into nothing but ashes.

Felt a weight lift off my chest.

I’d held onto the letter, but now that I’d read it, there was no reason to keep it.

It was the past just like Prescott was.

Now, I needed to think about my future.

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