Page 161 of Split You Open

Wes wakes up at four forty-five every morning like clockwork to start his day. He enjoys the silence as he gets ready and the peace that comes with mindlessly preparing breakfast for everyone. I like it too. The way we can work and move around one another in a comfortable silence is more peaceful than the mornings I used to wake alone to start a shift wherever I was working at the time.

This morning, however, I need to be alone.

At least for a bit.

Before I quietly slip out of the cabin, I turn on the coffee machine for everyone. I pull the flannel tight around me as I step outside into the cold, crisp October morning. It’s dark out but I can see the faint white hue of frost covering the ground.

I make no move to leave the porch but instead, walk over and lean my forearms against the railing right in front of the kitchen window. Here, the guys will be able to see me if they come down searching for me.

I stare out at the woods. Instinctually, my eyes search for any signs of danger. A shadow that’s not supposed to be there. The glint of metal or glass. A body… Even when I mentally give myself the “all clear”, I don’t stop combing the darkness for danger.

Just one more thing Dad instilled in me.

Who knew that the danger was always there beside me?

I’m outside for ten minutes before I feel eyes on me. I don’t acknowledge Dad when he slips around from the side of the house, walking across the porch on silent feet. He comes up beside me and mirrors my stance—bracing his forearms on the railing.

After another few minutes pass without a single word exchanged, Dad surprises me by breaking the silence first.

“It was five times.”

I look over at him to find his brows pinched together and his jaw locked. Rather than ask what that means, I simply wait. There’s no rushing Dad. Push and he’ll hold out longer just out of spite.

It's another full minute before he speaks again. Dad rolls his shoulders and huffs out a sigh. Turning to meet my gaze, he admits, “I tried five different times to kill you.”

Try as I might, I can’t suppress the flinch that whips through me.

His dark eyes track the subtle move and his jaw ticks. I can’t tell if it’s in disapproval for reacting after years of teaching me not to or if it’s something else.

I stare back at Dad for a long moment, searching his eyes for answers that just aren’t there. There’s no one better at hiding emotions, and apparently secrets, than Dad. Unable to stomach staring at him any longer, I turn and look back toward the yard.

“It was never personal. You never did anything wrong,” he continues.

It feels pretty personal to me.

My heart cracks.

I want the truth, I do. But hearing it… God does it hurt.

“I just…” he stops, hesitating as he considers his next words.

This gives me pause. Dad is always very direct, no matter what. He’s uncertain right now? Him?

“Each time I attempted taking your life, it was right before accepting a big job,” he continues after a moment. “Jobs where I couldn’t guarantee we’d make it out alive. Yet, I took them because I knew that I’d be the only one who might’ve had a chance at succeeding. But the risk of bringing you with me was so great. Too great. If you got captured, if some of those men had an inkling of who you were to me, the things you would’ve gone through would’ve made all the lessons I gave you look like child’s play.”

All the faith I thought he had in me… it was a lie. He didn’t trust me at his side.

My eyes burn from tears that I refuse to let fall.

Pushing the knot of emotion out of my throat, I manage to tell him calmly, “You don’t have to explain anymore. I get it.”

Typically, this would be enough for Dad to go quiet. He’s not one for saying much to begin with. Elaborating is not in his realm of expertise. In fact, just what he’s said so far is more than what I expected from him.

But I guess this isn’t a typical conversation for us.

“Before you came into my life, Blair, everything was so easy. So cut and dry,” he presses on, his voice growing gruff. “But you… you complicated things for me on a molecular level. My emotions always seemed to get the best of me where you were concerned.”

A soft laugh of disbelief slips out before I can push it down.