“And you want to know what horrible series of bad decisions led to where we are now.” I sigh again. “Well, it started when he joined the force. Dad was assigned to be his mentor; I guess at the time, they didn’t think they’d end up as partners or whatever. I don’t know. All I know is, one day, Dad came home with news of his new ‘protégé’ and he told Mom we’re inviting him over for dinner.”
“How old were you?”
At the time, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Now, as a mother to a daughter, my stomach turns just saying the number. “Fifteen.”
Demyen practically shoots out of his chair. “Fifteen?!”
I hold a hand up before he storms off to find a gun and personally shoot Martin in the head—because that’s exactly what it looks like he wants to do right now. “Nothing happened. Not right a
