Page 170 of Because I Killed Him
I don’t know what I ever did to deserve mattering this much to him.
Dad runs a hand through his hair, still smiling, as if caught in the afterglow of relief. But slowly, the expression fades.
“You should know, honey. If I go through with this, things might get rocky, like they were before. Some moments more than others, like when I make the announcement or near the end of the campaign.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I say, realizing this is my cue. My chance to finally tell Dad the truth, or some version of it. “I’ll be safe.”
He studies me. “You’ve made some good friends?”
“Yeah. Four, actually. And… one’s a Blue.”
Dad sits up straighter, his hand closing on the edge of the bench. “A Blue?Friends? What do you mean by that?”
My stomach hardens, roiling in a way that makes me thankful I ate a light breakfast. But I force out the words, keeping to broad strokes and leaving out the thornier details that might catch and bleed. Dad’s face stiffens when I explain how I joined a Blue’s entourage because it was either that or die at the Speakeasy. But he eases slightly when I admit thatthe Blue and I became friends after we started to trust each other, and even more, when I say I don’t have to do service work and that the Blue treats me well.
When I finish, Dad leans back on the bench and goes quiet. The silence lasts only a few moments, though it feels long enough to turn my hair gray. I brace against the sofa, heart pounding, waiting for the same storm he’d been prepared for when he told me his news.
But when he finally speaks, all he says is,
“Guess it makes sense why you’ve been holding up so well.”
The breath I’ve been holding escapes in a rush. “You’re not mad?”
Dad rubs his chin, suddenly sheepish. “I, uh, never told you this, honey, but I was friends with President Reeve back when we were students at Grandmaster.” He pauses, and a small, proud smile edges across his mouth. “Still am, in fact, even though Reeve and I sometimes butt heads over politics.”
I pretend to be surprised. “Was he your closest friend?”
“Yeah. He was. We had a whole group, though. Theodore. Winston. Your mom. Daisy…” Dad’s mouth tightens around his sister’s name. “And a few others, too.” He rubs his neck and shifts on the bench, as though the weight of the memories is still too heavy to sit with. “The point is, not all Blues are bad. If you’ve found one that’s good, I trust your judgment.”
Relief stirs in my chest, but I press it down, knowing it’s too soon to celebrate.
“Which Blue is it, by the way?” Dad asks.
“I—uh…” My throat dries. “It’s Edmund.”
His eyebrow lifts, as if he senses I’m being evasive. “Edmund, who?”
“Edmund… Prew.”
Dad lets out a short, disbelieving breath that’s half laugh, half cough. “For fuck’s sake, Loredana. That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking, Dad.”
The laugh dies. His mouth goes slack. “Really?”
“Yes.”
I blink, and for a moment, the world on his side of the call seems to stop. When it resumes, a frame is missing—the instant before he realizes. Suddenly, Dad is on his feet, the bench crashing backward with asplintering crack. A blue jay darts from the wall, wings flapping wildly, as he slams his fist against the table hard enough to send the phone skittering to the edge. His face drains instantly, the color vanishing into a dead white mask so quickly it shocks me.
“Prew?” Dad’s roar shreds through the speakers. “Howcould you, Loredana? What did I tell you? What the fuck did I tell you?”
I flinch, stunned. “I—Dad, I don’t—”
“Who was the one Blue family I told you to stay away from?” He claws both hands through his hair, pacing as if he wants to rip his thoughts from his skull. “You used to listen. You used to be careful. How could you do this?”
“I didn’t—” My breath snags. “You said the parents were dangerous. You never said Edmund—”
“You think that matters?” Dad’s shout tears through the garden, its echo almost mournful. I’ve never seen or heard him like this. He’s unraveling right in front of me, cursing wildly as his body breaks into frantic, uncontrollable tremors.
