I don’t know how to explain the new ache in my chest. The ache that’s quickly turned into pain at realizing that, had I paid better attention to the world around me, instead of absorbing myself with anger and hatred and vengeance… I might have seen her. I might have noticed her. I could have saved her.
Willow could have been mine.
“Your father used you.” I wrap my arms around her as she nestles into me, her back to my chest and our legs tangled together with the sheets. From here, we can see the bioluminescent waves roll across the sand, framed by low-hanging leaves of the ferns and coconut trees. I kiss the top of her head and breathe her in before tucking her under my chin. “He used you to get what he wanted. Martin used you to get what he wanted. I used you to get what I wanted. And y
