Page 70 of Tactical Revival

Lanetti is still missing, and her kidnapper is in the wind.

Parking on the curb behind Michael’s truck, I take one final deep breath before climbing out of the truck. Matty is sitting on the front porch.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” I tell him.

“Mom said it was okay since you were right behind Uncle Michael. I’ve only been out here a few minutes.” His tone is off, almost worrisome.

“Are you doing okay?” I take a seat beside him.

“Do you think my dad lit the B&B on fire because of what I said to him at the church?”

“Absolutely not,” I reply without hesitation. “If he did light the fire, he didn’t do it because of you.”

“My mom doesn’t know if she’ll be able to reopen.”

The knots in my stomach grow, and my chest tightens. “We will figure it out, Matty.”

“I don’t know. I just—my dad has caused her so much pain. I try to pretend that I don’t know, that I didn’t see him—” His voice cracks, and a tear slips down his cheek.

Unsure what else to do, I wrap an arm around his shoulders. “What did you see?”

Matty is quiet a moment. “He hit her.”

My stomach plummets. Margot hadn’t ever wanted Matty to know what his father had done. It would break her heart to know that he’d seen the whole thing. “You saw it?”

He nods. “I saw him hit her. I heard her cry out.” More tears slip free. “But I’d been so afraid of him that I hid. I should have protected her. It was my job.” Seeing the weight this kid carries reminds me an awful lot of the one that had been on my shoulders.

And it breaks my heart.

“Matty, listen to me.”

He looks up at me, meeting my gaze. I see so much pain reflected in his gaze that it guts me.

“It wasn’t your job to protect her. It was your dad’s, and instead, he’s the one who hurt her. That’s not on you.”

“I hate him, Jaxson. I hate him so much.” He angrily wipes tears away.

“Did you know that my dad walked out on us when my brother and I were little?”

“Really?”

I nod, hoping that pulling the focus off of him will ease a bit of his pain. “Afterward, my mom abandoned us at a homeless shelter and never came back. When I knew we were on our own, I took my younger brother, and we lived on the streets, surviving as we could.”

Matty looks absolutely horrified, but it’s no longer pain in his eyes—it’s anger. “That’s awful.”

“It was. But we got through it. My dad has since tried to make contact with me again—through my brother—but I want nothing to do with him either.”

“He wants to talk to you like my dad wants to talk to me?”

“Yes. The thing is, we can forgive them for what they’ve done to us, but still not allow them to continue to cause us pain.”

“My mom took me to see Pastor Redding earlier, and he told me that I needed to work on letting go of the anger and forgiving him. But I don’t know how to do that. I’m so mad.”

We sit in companionable silence for a moment, both of us weighing what it means to forgive like we want to be forgiven. It’s heavy, and something much easier said than done.

I sigh. “Well, I’ll tell you what, if you figure it out, let me know, will ya?”

He lets out a light laugh. “You do the same?”

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