Chapter 48
Lila
The world outside the county jail was bathed in pale morning light, the kind that made everything look cleaner than it really was.
Wade had told me I could see Milton if I wanted to, but I had been thinking on it for a few days. I was pretty sure that if I went, he would want me to drop some or all of the charges.
Me? I just wanted some closure. Or maybe I just wanted to stop wondering, to stop feeling so damn disappointed. That probably wasn’t going to happen, but at least now I knew the truth. There wasn’t going to be any fairy tale ending in this story about my father.
When I was a little girl, I’d lie in my bedroom at my Grams and dream big.
I’d think maybe he was kidnapped and held as a prisoner.
I’d come up with all sorts of reasons why he couldn’t be with me.
(Of course, then I’d go down the path that it was my fault he had left.) But in the shining dreams, I always wondered if he were to come back, it’d be in a blaze of glory, with apologies and declarations of love.
Now, nothing could stop me from seeing the truth.
He left of his own accord when I was little and stayed gone for the same reason.
This whole scheme wasn’t for anyone’s benefit but his own.
He didn’t care about me, not even a little.
He even went so far as to hurt me and try to make me leave my home.
The only reason I’d talk to him would be to finally close that chapter of my life. Then I’d never think about it again.
East drove, silent except for the faint hum of the heater. One hand rested on my thigh, warm and solid, anchoring me as we pulled into the lot.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said softly, eyeing me steadily.
“I know.” I looked at the brick building through the windshield. It was nothing special. Just the county jail, gray, squat, and unremarkable. “But I think I need to.”
He didn’t argue. He squeezed my leg and got out of the truck, then circled to open my door like he always did. “Okay, sugar.”
Here, the air carried a faint scent of disinfectant and steel. If I were to wax poetic, I might say it was the scent of failure, but that sounded mean.
Inside, Wade was waiting by the front desk, paperwork in one hand, coffee in the other. He gave me a sympathetic look before turning to East. “You’re staying with her?”
“Not leaving her side,” East said, his tone flat, final.
Wade nodded once. “Good. He’s in one of the visitation rooms. I have you both cleared, but you’ll need to leave ID. Fifteen minutes max.”
We followed Wade down the corridor. Each step echoed off concrete, and I tried not to look too long at the steel doors or the narrow windows. I could feel East close behind me — that quiet, steady presence that said everything words couldn’t.
When Wade opened the door, I hesitated on the threshold.
Milton Merrick sat at the small metal table, wrists cuffed, hair gray and thin.
He was a match for the shadowy figure that had broken into my house.
Even sitting down, I could tell that he would loom over me, but he was still just a tired and angry man. Someone who was a stranger.
He smiled like we were supposed to have something between us. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“I almost didn’t.” Distaste coated my mouth.
East stayed by the door, silent, his arms folded across his chest. Wade stood outside the door, watching, but I was glad he was close by.
Milton leaned back, the chains on his cuffs clinking softly. “You look just like your mother.”
I didn’t answer, but the comparison annoyed me because it was true, and he remembered her. In my new configuration of who he was, he had wiped her and his baby from his brain as soon as he left.
“I suppose you’re here to gloat. You got everything, huh? The land, the house, all the sympathy in town. You must be proud.” He frowned.
“Proud?” My voice came out quieter than I expected. “You tried to burn my house down. You scared me half to death. And for what — a piece of dirt you didn’t even own?”
That pissed me off even more. I hadn’t even known about the stupid piece of land. He’d done all this intimidation stuff to try to get me out of town to get this property that I didn’t even care about.
His eyes flashed. “I had a right to it. She was my mother.” He practically spat. “Everything should have gone to me when she died. This isn’t how it works. The whole inheritance thing.” He looked annoyed, as if I were not getting the answer to a simple math problem right. Like I was stupid.
“It was her right to leave her property to whoever she wanted to,” I said, trying to clamp down on the words I wanted to say. “You left mom. Me.”
Milton’s mouth tightened. “What point was there in staying?”
Staying was the point. I could tell him that we’d needed him, but he obviously missed that part. Trying to take a breath, I ignored how much it hurt that he was dismissing the way a father figure would have made a difference. Maybe he would’ve been a shitty dad, but I’d never know.
“I guess there was no point in staying. Mom died. Did you know that?” At his shrug, I soldiered through.
“Grams raised me. You don’t get to rewrite history by pretending you deserved any of what she had.
She worked herself half to death to keep it.
And you? You weren’t there for any of it.
In fact, you didn’t come around until it was time to try to get your grubby hands on something. ”
For the first time, he looked away. His shoulders slumped a little. “You don’t understand, kid. The world just sucks life out of you. I just… wanted a piece of what I was owed.”
Disdain wasn’t even a fraction of what I felt when I looked over at him, cuffed at the table. Is that really what he thought? That he was owed part of Grams’ property or part of the shop? “It was never yours.” I finally managed to say.
We sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the overhead light filling the space between us. I realized then that there wasn’t anything left to say.
I’d thought maybe I’d want an apology. Or an explanation. But what I really wanted was to stop giving this man any more of my energy. He didn’t deserve any of it. “I didn’t come here to forgive you,” I said finally. “I just needed to see you for what you are.”
Milton tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “And what’s that?”
“Nobody,” I said.
He barked a laugh — short, humorless. “You got your grandmother’s mouth.”
“Good,” I said. “I can accept that.”
When I stood, the chair legs screeched against the floor. East moved immediately, stepping forward, his arm curling around me like a shield.
Milton’s voice followed us as we turned to leave. “You think you’re better than me, but when that land starts costing you money, when this town turns its back on you like it did to me, you’ll understand.”
I didn’t look back.
Outside, the air hit me cold and clean. I hadn’t realized how hard my hands were shaking until East took one of them in his, wrapping it in both of his palms until it stilled.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” My throat tightened, but the word came out steady. “I am, actually. I feel good.”
He looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if I was telling the truth, then nodded. “Good. Let’s get you out of here. You saw what you needed.”
As we walked back to the truck, the clouds broke open just enough for sunlight to spill across the wet pavement. It gleamed on puddles and barbed wire alike.
When East opened the door for me, I hesitated before climbing in. “You know,” I said softly, “I think that was the first time I ever really had the perfect comeback at the perfect time. I can’t wait to tell Sage.”
He snorted. “Yep. It was pretty epic. Sage is going to love hearing it.”
I looked back once, at the building growing smaller in the distance, and then I let it go. The weight of years of wondering lifted off my shoulders. It felt good. By the time we hit the turnoff for Wildwood Meadows, my hand had found his again.