Martin shakes his head. “No. His ex-girlfriend was, though. That’s why he learned to sign. And that’s how he was able to teach Becca and it’s how they communicate.” He exhales loudly. “She passed away in a car accident. He was driving. Hence the therapy.”

I nod, not knowing how else to react.

He steps closer again, his threatening demeanor relaxing a little. “I’ve thought about this moment a lot since Becca moved in—what I would say to you if I ever got the chance. Truth is, I don’t know how to deal with any of this, Josh. I can look at you as a punk kid who hurt my daughter, and that side of me makes me want to punch you in the face and tell you not to contact her again because I can guarantee you she didn’t sleep a wink last night. Then I see you as a dad, and that part of me hopes I can reach out to you and you’ll understand what I say next…” He takes a breath. And then another. All while I pray for the ground to swallow me whole. “She’s doing better. A lot better than when she moved in. The therapy helps. She seems to like college and likes this area, and I think she even likes me. As a father, you should know what it feels like—this need to protect your child—so I’m telling you this because she’s gone through enough in her life that I couldn’t protect her from, and now I need to do that, Josh. I need to make sure that she keeps taking steps forward.” He gives me a once over before saying, “Unfortunately, I don’t think that you being in her life is going to allow that.”

I shove my hands in my pockets, his words clearing my mind, each one seared into my memory.

“I don’t exactly know what happened to you guys,” he adds. “But I do know the reason she went to see you yesterday is because it’s on The List.”

Looking up, I raise my eyebrows. “What? Like a bucket list?”

“Yeah, Josh. A bucket list of fears.”

3

—Becca—

“I’m just going to make an assumption here and tell me if I’m wrong, Becca,” Aaron says, glancing at me quickly from the driver’s seat. “Your interview with Josh last night didn’t go well, or something happened, and you had to do it again?”

I look down at my hands and stay silent. Because silence is all I can give him.

“It’s just that I’m finding it hard to come up with any other reason as to why you were with him this morning.”

I grab my phone from my bag and type away, then hit speak and wait for the speech to come through his car speakers. “He just showed up at my door. I wasn’t going to tell him to go away. It would’ve been rude.”

“Rude?” he asks incredulously. “What’s rude is showing up at your house when he has no business to do so.”

I watch him a moment, surprised by his tone. He’s never spoken to me like this before. My shoulders drop with my silent sigh. I lower my gaze and focus on my phone. “I don’t know what you want me to say, but I don’t deserve the way you’re talking to me right now. You’re trying to make me feel guilty or apologize for something, when I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Aaron pulls into a spot in the church parking lot, then turns to me, his bright blue eyes on mine. “You’re right,” he says, his face clear of a definable emotion.

I wait for him to continue and when he doesn’t, I have Cordy say, “I’ve been open with you throughout this entire experience.”

“Experience?” he asks, his face scrunched in annoyance.

I roll my eyes and tap away at my phone. “You know what I mean. Don’t be an ass. I gave you plenty of chances to tell me you were against it, and you never did.”

“You don’t need my permission, Becca,” he says softly.

“But I wanted it, Aaron. Not your permission but your support, and I thought we were in the same place with this.”

“We are,” he says, reaching over and gently taking my hand. He leans forward, his lips soft against my forehead. “I’m sorry.” Then he dips his head, his nose touching mine and I know what he wants, I’m just not ready to give it to him. I pull away and point to the church where the group therapy sessions are held. I mouth, “Late.”

It’s hard to watch the disappointment and frustration take over him, but I’m not willing to succumb to the pressure of what he wants versus what I need. And right now, I need to sit in a room with people whose lives are just as fucked up as mine had once been.

Once out of the car, my phone chimes with a text.

Unknown: Why didn’t you tell me about him?