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Kirill shrugs. “No, you are right.”
Dom lets out a breath. “I wish she’d come to me that night and told me what her plans were. Maybe I’d have gone with her, and she’d still be alive today.”
“Would you really have gone?” I ask. “Would you have given up your life here to go with her?”
Dom scrubs his hand over his eyes. “Fuck. Honestly, no, probably not. I’d have been partying, or pissed that she’d woken me, if I’d been sleeping. I’d most likely have told her she was mistaken, that she overheard Dad wrong, and she was overreacting.”
I offer him a smile of sympathy. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, D, but you wouldn’t have been able to change what happened. It was an accident, and if you’d gone, you might be dead now, too.” I know that’s harsh, but it’s the truth.
Mackenzie puts her hand on his bicep. “You need to talk to your dad, let him explain it to you. At least give him the chance to try.”
He bites the inside of his lip. “Can I trust him to tell me the truth?”
“Your mom has already told you the truth in that letter,” she says. “Let him tell his point of view, and then maybe it’s time to make peace with what happened to her. You can’t grieve unless you find peace.”
I stare at her, proud of how strong she’s become. God, we all owe her such a debt of gratitude for giving us chance after chance. When I think of all the times we nearly blew it, I want to punch myself in the face.
Dom holds Mackenzie’s gaze and blows out a long breath. “You’re right. Fuck. I’m going to go talk to my father.”
Chapter 27
Domenic
“Where the fuck did you go?” my dad says when I return to his quarters. “I wasn’t done with you.”
I don’t know why, but this letter has changed something. I’m no longer afraid of him. My mom chose to leave him. She walked out on him. She’d planned on forging her own path, without him. And if she had the guts to do that, so can I.
I hold out the sheet of paper. “I found this letter.”
He pales and reaches for it. “That’s not yours. What the fuck? Were you going through my things?”
His face turns red—a sure sign of his building rage—but I ignore it and remain calm.
“Why didn’t you ever show this to me before?” I demand to know.
“It wasn’t for you. It was a letter she wrote for me.”
I wave the letter at him. “Mom talks about me in it. Don’t you think I deserved to know she wanted me to join her?”
“Why? What would be the point? She died. It wasn’t as though that would ever be possible.”
“How can you be so fucking cold? She was my mother!” My voice is raised, and it cracks slightly.
He drops his head, the fight suddenly gone out of him. “I loved her, too.” His voice is gruff, like mine.
I narrow my eyes. He’s putting this on. Pretending. He has to be. This bastard isn’t capable of love. He wants Lucia because she’s a pretty object to have on his arm, nothing more or less.
“Liar! It says she overheard you on the phone to another woman. I assume that woman was Lucia, and then surprise, surprise, Mom dies under mysterious circumstances, and then the other woman turns up at Verona Falls.”
His head snaps up, his eyes blazing. “I didn’t have anything to do with your mother’s death, if that’s what you’re implying.”
I bite my lower lip and force myself to speak. We’ve never spoken about mom’s death properly—not really. I’ve certainly never let him know what’s really been on my mind. “What else am I supposed to think?”
“It was a terrible, tragic accident, that’s all. Don’t you think I’ve beaten myself up over the way she died? I treated her appallingly, and she didn’t deserve that. I wish she’d never overheard me that night, or that I’d stopped her from leaving, but wishing something doesn’t change it. No matter what you think, I loved her!”
“How can you say you loved Mom when you were acting like that?”
“I loved them both.” He pauses and then adds, “I still do.”
