Page 144 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

The taste of agony was bitter and cold on my tongue.

Maybe I didn’t want to hear this. Maybe it was easier to keep my mom in the role of the villain. In that role, it was me and my dad against the world, and in that role, I didn’t have to re-examine the past through a different lens.

I’d seen how hard that had been on Hunter, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough for it now.

“When your father and I had you, we both made a vow to put you first. No matter what. He told me keeping you away from the prison and trying to force you to move on with your life was the last thing he would ever ask of me.”

Dammit, Dad.

That was why my mom had stopped taking me to visit him. It wasn’t until I was older that I bulldozed my way into the prison, ignoring the pleas of my father to stop coming. I thought he didn’t want me there because it wasn’t a place for a young lady, what with all the inmates.

And when I showed up anyway, that’s why he kept changing the topic from his trial. That’s why he tried shifting every conversation tomylife, insisting I make plans and get out there and live. Maybe he didn’t have the heart to reject me when I’d shown up for our visits, but he sure as hell tried to use them to convince me to give up on him.

And save myself.

“How could he sacrifice the only thing he cared about? Us?”

“Because your happiness meant more to him than his own.”

A single tear slid down my cheek, anchored by the weight of my father’s sacrifice.

A memory surfaced, solidifying one of his last sacrifices for me.

The echo of laughter from years ago filled my ears.

“Oh my gosh!” I squealed, the world full of wonder as I dashed into the backyard, my pigtails flying.

“Careful,” Dad said. “They’re not sanded yet. You could get a splinter.”

“I thought you said we couldn’t afford to build a tree house?!” My smile was so wide, that it probably touched my ears. “I thought you had to save up for a car?”

“Well”—Dad adjusted his baseball cap—“I got to thinking.” He put his hands on his hips. “You’ve been wanting a tree house for a while. The car can wait, but you’re growing up so fast, this can’t.”

“But—”

He held his hand up. “Getting to work faster is a small thing. Making one of your dreams come true is big, Luna. You deserve this.”

“Thank you, Dad!” I ran up and slammed my arms around him. He picked me up and kissed the top of my head.

As the scent of Dad’s cologne dissipated, replaced with cooked bacon, I wiped a tear from my cheek.

“But once I started to visit Dad,” I said, “why didn’t you start visiting him, then?”

Mom looked down. “He was hoping if I remained away, eventually, you might give up, too.” She paused. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but if I could go back in time, I would make different decisions.”

For the first time in years, the knot in my chest loosened, the sharp edges of my resentment toward Mom beginning to blur.

I might disagree with her decisions, but the real question was, could I accept her apology?

I’d learned that rescuing my father from prison hadn’t changed the injustice going on in this world, and now, I was realizing there was an injustice going on right here, with my mother.

A mother and her daughter strained over tragic circumstances.

And if I were being honest, outside the strain relating to Dad’s incarceration, she had always been a wonderful mother.

She held down multiple jobs and did whatever it took to keep food on the table. Not an easy task. She attended every school function that her work schedule would allow, every parent-teacher conference, and stayed actively plugged in and engaged with her child.

I met her gaze.

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