Because she was so big now. I held my pressed lips between my teeth to hide my smile and then quickly took a bite of broccoli.
“I do remember it, Rosie.” Dad’s tone changed to the one he reserved for Rose. The one he used to use when we were small and hadn’t disappointed him yet.
“Well, his face had a bump, so Aunt Willow let him borrow it. He didn’t even care that it was a girl ice pack or anything. He’s pretty big, though. Takes up the whole kitchen.”
Someone save me—this was about to get ugly. I swallowed the broccoli, which slid down my throat as smooth as ash.
“You took Camden Daniels into her apartment? Where Rose lives?” Dad growled.
“What do you think he was going to do, Dad? Graffiti the place? Clog the drain and start a flood? He’s not a kid anymore,” I retorted. “Oscar Hudgens hit him with zero warning, and Tim Hall was coming at him, so I took him upstairs and got him out of the line of fire.”
“And you thought the apartment was appropri—”
“That’s my apartment,” Charity interjected, addressing Dad directly.
Hell had officially frozen over. While she’d always brought Rose around and encouraged their relationship, she’d given up trying with Dad after Rose turned two and now spoke to Dad exactly three times a year.
Happy birthday.
Merry Christmas.
Happy Father’s Day.
It was March, and none of those applied.
Mom’s fork hit the plate, but neither Charity nor Dad looked away from each other.
“It’s my apartment,” she continued. “Mine. I own that whole building, and I get to say who goes into my bar. My home, for that matter, too. It’s mine. Just like Rose is mine.”
Dad put his silverware down with care.
Maybe now was a good time to stand up and twirl around in my super-short red skirt like a matador with an angry bull.
“I’m sorry that it bothers you that Camden was in my home, but I trust him. I trust Willow.”
“Well, I sure don’t trust Camden, and I’m not sure I can trust you, either,” Dad said, his gaze sliding to me. “Taking his side after everything that boy has done.”
“I hardly think petty vandalism and a few fistfights make him untrustworthy.”
“You call setting fire to the bunkhouse petty vandalism? That building survived a hundred and thirty years before Cam destroyed it.”
“That fire was ruled accidental, and you know it,” I snapped.
“You almost died.”
Smoke filled my memories, acrid and harsh in my throat. “Cam saved my life.”
“After he put it in danger in the first place. It may have been ruled accidental, but we all know what really happened. He set it on fire just because he could. That boy has always been destructive and dangerous.”
“He was a kid, Dad. An entire decade has gone by, and he’s spent it serving his country and finishing his education. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” I searched my father’s face, looking for a drop of compassion, a crack in his steel-enforced moral code.
“It means that the boy who was prone to violence went and found himself a career where he could continue that violence, and they decorated him as a hero for it. People change in very small ways, Willow. We change our decision-making and even our actions, but we don’t change who we are here.” He tapped his chest.
“A career where he could continue that violence,” I repeated. “That’s not what you said when Sullivan enlisted. You told him how proud you were, how he was a man to admire for serving his country just like his father and brothers had. Why is Cam’s choice any less honorable?” They had made the same decision, so how was it that Sullivan was applauded while Cam had been sneered at?
Dad sucked in a breath, his posture going straighter than the supports on the bench he loved to sit behind. “I thought the military was good for Camden and told Art exactly that. The boy needed some discipline.”
“And he’s now an engineer, Dad. This town needs him, and yet you tried to run him off, not because it was the rule but because you don’t like him.” I shook my head. “I’ve never seen you step outside your little black-and-white code and bring your own bias into a decision like that.”
“This town needed Sullivan more. You needed Sullivan more.” The skin between his brows wrinkled, and pain filled his eyes for a second before he blinked it away.
I didn’t examine the truth or the lie in his statement.
“It’s not Cam’s fault that Sullivan died.” The words fell from my lips as if they’d been doing it for the last six years, though they never had before. Not that I’d ever blamed Cam. I knew better than that. I’d simply never contradicted Dad because he’d never been bold enough to say it in front of me.
There is more beauty in truth. Cam’s words from the library, reciting that book, settled on my chest with a warmth I didn’t deserve. Shame crept up my neck, hot and uncomfortable. I’d known what my father had thought all these years. I should have said it long before now.
My silence may as well have been an endorsement of Dad’s preposterous thought. Of the entire town’s.
“He was there. Did you know that?” Dad challenged.
Charity reached into my lap and gripped my hand.
“Yes.” It was well known that Cam’s unit had rushed to the firefight that took Sullivan.
“He gave an order that got Sullivan killed.”
I’d heard that rumor, too.
“It wasn’t Cam’s bullet that hit Sullivan, Dad.”
“He sure as hell didn’t save him, did he? If you were in battle with your sister, you would have been right by her side.” He left the damning accusation hanging there.
Charity’s hand tightened around mine, and I squeezed back.
“I can’t answer that, Dad. I’ve never been to war. Have you?”
He pulled his napkin from his lap and flung it on the table. “Thank you for dinner, sweetheart. I’m going to start on the dishes.” He pushed back from the table and stood, taking his plate with him. He seemed to struggle with his thoughts, then brought his eyes to mine. “I saw what Sullivan’s death did to you. When you watch the person you love most lose what they love most, then you’ll understand. But I pray to God that never happens to you, Willow.”
He left the room, taking some but not all of the tension with him.
My eyes swung past Rose, who was chewing slowly with wide eyes, to my mother, who glared at both Charity and me.