Page 144 of The Thief
"Yeah?"
"Be careful in there. If Trace contacted you once, he might try again. He might try to use you to get to me."
"Let him try. I've got nothing left to lose and fifteen years of prison fights to keep me sharp. Besides, any man tries to hurt my boy, even if my boy wants nothing to do with me, that man's got a problem."
The protective instinct in his voice is something I remember from childhood. Before everything went wrong, before Mam died and Dad lost himself in bottles and violence, he was fierce about protecting what was his.
"Just be smart about it."
"Always am these days. Prison teaches you patience if nothing else."
The line goes dead, leaving me alone in Henry's corridor with memories I don't want and emotions I can't process. Fifteen years of anger and resentment, suddenly complicated by the possibility of redemption.
"Everything okay?" Tríona's voice comes from behind me, concerned and gentle.
I turn to find her watching me with those sharp blue eyes, seeing more than I want her to. She's got this way of reading people, of seeing past the masks we wear to the truth underneath.
"Family business."
"Your father?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. The conversation has stirred up things I'd buried, memories and feelings I thought were safely locked away.
She moves closer and slips her hand into mine. Her touch is warm, grounding, exactly what I need right now.
"What did he want?"
"To warn me. Trace paid him a visit, tried to get information."
Her face hardens. "Did he give him anything?"
"He says he didn't. But the fact that Trace found him at all..."
"Means he's been researching you. Looking for ways to hurt you through people you might care about."
"Exactly."
We walk back toward Henry's study, but Tríona stops me before we reach the door.
"What else did he want?"
The question I've been avoiding, even in my own mind.
"Forgiveness, maybe. A second chance."
"And?"
"And I don't know if I can give him that."
She's quiet for a moment, thinking. When she speaks, her voice is careful, non-judgmental.
"What did he do? I mean, I know he went to prison, but..."
"Armed robbery when I was fourteen. Left me to fend for myself on Dublin's streets. Then, when he had a chance to get out early, he killed a guard during a fight. Guaranteed he'd never see freedom again."
"That's a lot to forgive."
"It is. He abandoned me when I needed him most, chose violence over family. Again."
