Page 85 of The Quiet After The Fall

I figured she hadn’t visited him. If there was someone who hated David Thorne as much as I did, it was his own daughter. I pull her closer and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

“I’ll be right there with you.”

She turns to look up at me. “Wait, you’re not on the approved visitor list. I should be still, but it takes months. It’s a whole process. I don’t think I can do it alone, Knox. Face him after all this time.”

“Actually.” I hesitate, because this is the part I’ve kept to myself all this time, the part I’m not proud of, especially now. “I already am. Approved, I mean.”

Her eyes go wide. “How?”

“A few months after he was sentenced, I put in the paperwork.” I make myself keep going, even though every part of me wants to keep this buried. “I wasn’t planning some noble visit, Sawyer. I wanted to go sit across from him and unload everything. Tell him what a waste of life he was. What he took from me. From you too. I was going to tell him things that would rub salt in his wounds.” I exhale, slowly. “I never went. I got approved and then I just…couldn’t do it. I didn’t have it in me to be that cruel to someone who was already suffering.”

Sawyer blinks, opens her mouth to speak but closes it almost immediately.

“Say something…please.”

“I guess I’m shocked is all.” Then she shrugs. “I can’t blame you, though. I haven’t gone there because I was afraid I’d do the same thing.”

“You?” I search her face, trying to reconcile the girl in front of me with someone capable of that kind of cruelty. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

“You’d be surprised. There was a stretch, right after the sentencing, where I hated him so much I could barely breathe. I used to lie awake writing speeches in my head. All the ways I’d make him understand what he did to us. To his employees. To Mom. To me.” She shakes her head, like she’s trying to deny the memory. “I never let any of it out of my head. Not really. I guess I chose a quieter form of resentment when it came to my father.”

“We really are more alike than either of us ever wanted to admit.”

“Apparently.” She lets out a breath that’s close to a laugh. “I’m surprised you didn’t go, though. Maybe if you’d have told my father off, it would have spared me from all your asshole ways.”

“Careful.” I tug her closer ignoring the ache in my ribs, and press a kiss to the top of her head. “You love my asshole ways.”

“Psst, no, not even close.”

She gets out of bed, stretches her arms, and sighs. “So we’ll go together, then. Check the visiting hours while I pack up.”

I already know them, because I’ve stared at that website more times than I’ll ever admit. “It’s weekends, mostly. There’s a slot tomorrow morning. 9 AM.”

Tomorrow. Same day I told Tyler I’d try to make the memorial…which I have zero intention of actually doing, but it buys me a good excuse if anyone asks where I’ve been. Otisville, then some time to do what we can with the information we receive.

“You already knew that?” Sawyer asks as she pulls out her suitcase from the closet.

“I checked while you were asleep.” That along with directions there. I’ll have to figure out the whole smuggling Sawyer out of Miriam’s house and not getting followed thing, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

“Okay. I guess we’re going to see my dad.” Hands on her hips, she surveys the contents of her closet. “God, I hope my mom doesn’t find out. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Sawyer’s phone rings. She grabs it off the bed and laughs. “Speak of the devil. It’s her.”

“That’s fucking weird. Are you going to answer?”

“Hard pass,” she says, tossing it back on the bed. “She can leave a voicemail.”

Something churns in my gut as I watch the phone ring over and over. It’s probably from the prospect of seeing David tomorrow. Of everything we need to overcome, not only so I can get out of this engagement, but to keep Sawyer and myself safe.

It’s an uphill battle and we’re starting at the very bottom. Just the two of us against a massive force like Moretti, plus all the resources my father’s collected over the years.

If he finds out about me visiting Thorne, he’ll kill me himself. He can fucking try, I’m done with his bullshit.

The whole thing is almost laughable. That David fucking Thorne may be the one to get me my life back. It’s wild, plain and simple.

Sawyer’s phone beeps and the new voicemail alert pops up. She grabs it, inhales deeply, and hits play with the phone on speaker.

“Sawyer? Honey, are you okay? Richard just called me looking for Knox.” Helen sniffs and that churning sensation returns. “It’s Victoria. Something’s happened. Just call me back.”