Page 91 of The Words We Lost

Anger seethed within her. “What kind of pathetic excuse for a father leaves his child in the middle of the night to let her second-guess her entire existence for the rest of her life? You don’t deserve her!You’ve never deserved her!”At her words, a spasm of pain twisted his face, and Cece relished in it, in the chance to inflict the same wounds on Hal that she’d never get to inflict on her own good-for-nothing dad. “You are nothing but a coward and a con man, and if you think for one minute that I’m just going to let you walk back onto that boat without turning you into the police then—”

“You don’t understand, I don’t have a choice.”

“You have always had a choice!” Cece’s voice broke on a sob. “Your choice was tochoose your daughter!”

“Iamchoosing her!” His ferocious growl rumbled through the salty night air. “These men, they know about Ingrid. They know where she goes to school, where she lives, where she eats, where she interns three days a week, and who she spends her time with. If I defect from their plan in any way, she dies.”

Cece swayed on her feet, her arm falling limply to her side, the bags nearly slipping from her numb fingers.“No.”The syllable was no more than a squeak, yet it stole every ounce of her strength. “You’re...you’re lying.”

With one hand still stretched outward, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He tapped on it and then flipped the screen around for her to see. “This picture of her was sent to me today. They send me a current picture of her before every run, a reminder of what I’ll lose if I don’t stick to the plan.”

Cece’s knees no longer felt sturdy enough to hold her as she saw the same bright fuchsia top she’d been admiring during their FaceTime call this afternoon in the picture on Hal’s phone. Recognition continued to dawn as she matched the brick background to the university library.

Someone had taken that today—this afternoon, even.

Hal wasn’t lying.

“I may be a drunk and a cheat and a pathetic excuse for a father like you say, but I’m not a coward. I love my girl too much to let her die for my sins.”

The choke hold around Cece’s throat was too tight for her to speak much louder than a whisper. “You have to make the drop by first light?”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll have your uncle’s boat returned to the marina before Joel knocks on my door tomorrow morning.”

“And then what? You just sail away, never to come back? You just cut Ingrid out of your life forever?” The pill bags hung limp at Cece’s sides now, their true weight pulling heavily on her conscience.

“The longer I’m away, the better off she’ll be. The safer.”

Only a few minutes ago, she’d believed the same. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

His expression shifted as he glanced over his shoulder at the boat again, and he seemed to make a decision. “Wait here.” Hal turned and ducked back inside the cruiser, returning a moment later with an antique wooden box she knew well. He opened it to reveal the battle-ax handed down to him through generations. “This is more than my word; it’s my blood. The only legacy I have worth anything to pass on to my daughter in the future.” He paused. “You and I will do a good faith trade. Those pills for my ax.” He kissed the carvings next to the lock and then held it out to her. “I trust you to hold on to it until the time is right.”

Cradling the pills close to her chest, she analyzed his suggested trade. “And when is that? What am I supposed to tell her after you’re gone?”

“Nothing.” Hal’s gaze twisted into something hard, unyielding. “Swear to me you won’t ever tell anyone about our conversation—especially not Ingrid. Let them assume I’ve abandoned my daughter for my freedom. It’s safer that way. For everyone.”

“You can’t just let her believe you’ve deserted her.” Bile rose in her throat. “It will destroy her.”

“I’m not deserting her,” he insisted. “I’m entrusting her to you, to your family.” He swallowed, then searched the dark horizon beyond. “To the God your family believes in so strongly.”

“You believe in Him, too.” An acknowledgement she’d never given him credit for until now. “I saw you after rehab. You were different, peaceful.”

A slow nod. “Aye.”

His declaration plunged through her like a boulder crashing into the depths of the ocean, and for a moment, she feared she wouldn’t be able to surface for her next breath.

“She’ll hate you if you leave.”

“I’d hate myself more if I stayed.”

The earnest conviction in his voice scraped against her most fragile hope of a father returning for his daughter. Perhaps in a strange way, this moment was Hal’s return to his daughter, too. Maybe not in a physical sense, but in a paternal one. A sacrificial one.

Hal offered her the ax, and Cece accepted it, blinking back tears before she followed through with his request to hand over the pills she’d taken. Then, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper. “Your coordinates.”

Hal stared down at the coordinates and blinked several times before he took them from her. No longer was he the larger-than-life Viking Cece had met in her youth. Nor was he the unrepentant villain she’d labeled him as an adult. This Hal, this weathered and broken man before her, was just that. A man. “Be good to my Elskede.”

“I will,” she choked out. “I promise.”

With a final dip of his chin, he held her gaze. “Tell her I’m sorry and that I will love her until my last breath.”

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