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just trying to mend fences with his only son, the one he used to kick the shit out of regularly. But that was the booze, and the booze was the answer to grief and guilt. Besides, alcoholism's a disease, and he caught it like cancer. Now he's in remission, he's in his one fucking day at a time, so all's fucking forgiven. I should break out the poles and see if he wants to go down to the fishing hole and drown some worms. Did your father ever punch you in the face before he blew his brains out?"

He heard her breath hitch in, release. But her voice was rock steady when she spoke. "No, he did not."

"Did he ever take a belt to your back until it bled?"

"No, he did not."

"That being the case, I'd say you lack the experience to sit out here thinking I should shrug all that off and have myself a real Oprah moment with the old man."

"You'd be right, absolutely. But here's another thing. You're putting thoughts in my head that aren't there, and words in my mouth I have no intention of saying. And I don't appreciate it. I imagine that talking with your father just now has left you feeling both raw and prickly, so I'll give you some room. In fact, I'll give you plenty of room and leave you alone to have your tantrum in private."

She made it all the way to the door before she whirled back. "No, I will not. I'll be damned if I will. Do you want to know what I think? Are you at all interested in hearing my own opinion rather than the one you've projected on me?"

He waved a hand, a gesture so brittle with sarcasm, it all but cracked the air. "Go right ahead."

"I think you're under no obligation whatsoever to forgive anything, to forget anything. You're not required to push away the years of abuse because the abuser now chooses to be sober and in his sobriety regrets his actions. And while it may be small and unforgiving of me, I think people who do so at the snap of a damn finger are either liars or are in need of serious therapy. I assume you heard him out, so in my personal opinion, any debt you might owe for your existence is now paid in full. It may be fashionable to hold the opinion that terrible actions are indeed terrible, but that the person inflicting them isn't responsible due to alcohol, drugs, DNA, or goddamn PMS. He damn well was responsible, and if you decide to loathe him for the rest of your life, I wouldn't blame you for it. How's that?"

"Unexpected," Gage said after a moment.

"I believe the strong have an obligation to protect the weak. It's why they're the strong. I believe a parent has an obligation to protect the child. It's why they're the parent. As for my father-"

"I'm sorry." A day for apologies, he thought again. And this one might qualify as the most sincere of his lifetime. "Cybil, I'm very sorry I threw that at you."

"Regardless, he never raised a hand to me. If he were able to stand where you are right now and apologize to me for killing himself, I don't know if I'd forgive him. He ripped my life in two with that single, selfish, self-pitying act, so I think it would take more than an apology. Which would be useless since he'd still be dead. Your father's alive, and he's taken a step toward making amends. Good for him. But for my money, you can't forgive without trust, and he hasn't earned that from you. He may never, and that's not on you. His actions, his consequences. End of story."

She'd said it all, he thought. She might have said it all in the heat of temper and resentment. But everything she'd said was a comfort. "Can I start over?"

"With what?"

"I'd like to thank you for stepping out and letting me deal with that."

"You're welcome."

"And to thank you for not leaving."

"No problem."

"And last, to thank you for the kick in the ass."

She huffed out a breath, almost smiled. "That part was my pleasure."

"I bet."

He stepped to her, held out a hand. "Come upstairs."

She looked down at his hand, up into his eyes. "All right," she said, and put her hand in his.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

"YOU SURPRISE ME."

Cybil tipped her head, gave him that long, slanted stare as they walked through the house.