Page 58 of The Widower
“Do you want to talk about it?”
After a few seconds without looking directly at my face, she said, “All I can tell you and ask is to stay away from Colin today—and tell Hanna to do the same. Today’s not a good day for that.”
I didn’t understand exactly what she meant, but I needed to know whether her warning had anything to do with Hanna or me.
“What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”
“It’s not you or Hanna.” She paused, searching for the words. “I can’t explain it well, but on the 15th and the 30th of every month, Colin leaves in the morning and comes back different in the afternoon. He won’t even tell me what happens, and the only time he treated me badly was when I asked him about it.”
Alarm flared in me and I scanned the room for my daughter—she wasn’t in sight.
“I’ll keep Hanna away from those halls.I just need to find her first.”
COLIN ADAMS
“Goddamn life!”
I hurled my second glass of whiskey against the wall, furious at everything and everyone around me.
I’d been holed up in my private bar for two hours now, drinking nonstop since the moment I walked in.
Break? What for?
I get why people judge me for who I am—I really do—and I couldn’t care less. But I also know my life’s gone to hell, and every time I visit him, the urge to hurt that man grows stronger. He deserves it.
“What are you doing?” Hanna’s little voice came from near the doorway.
What the hell is she doing here?!
“Go away,” I said, my voice low but sharp.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Go find your mom and stay with her!” My tone rose, but I still didn’t look at her. I was drunk, angry—furious just for being alive.
“Oh, I was with her. I just wanted to stay with you for a bit.We can—”
“Go away, Hanna!” I shouted, finally meeting her eyes, my own burning with rage.
I’m a monster. A real one.
Who the hell yells at a five-year-old girl who actually cares about him? If there’s a hell, I belong there.
I’d never raised my voice at my own kids—never even snapped at a child before. But tonight, I’d done the unthinkable.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her again.I dropped my head, the weight of what I’d just done crashing down on me. She’d never talk to me again. Kids these days...
Then something unexpected happened—something that stopped my heart.
“I know you’re sad, Uncle Colin. Your daughter’s not here, and you love her a lot.”
Her tiny hand rested on my head, fingers brushing through my hair, soft and steady.I froze.
“Do you want a hug, Uncle Colin?”
And that was it.I broke. The tears came before I could stop them.
Why does this little girl do this to a man like me?
