Page 62 of Ranger's Wildflower

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Margaret staggered backward slightly like the truth physically hit her.

“You went to prison for six years,” she whispered. “For that?”

I nodded once.

“I made a promise.”

Tears filled her eyes instantly.

“Do you have any idea what those years did to us?”

“I know.”

And God, I did.

The funeral.

The hatred.

The whispers every time her family’s name came up.

“I hated you,” she admitted brokenly.

“I know.”

The honesty hung painfully between us.

Neither of us looked away.

Then Margaret’s shoulders sagged slightly.

“When I saw the video…” Her voice shook. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel.”

I stayed silent.

Because honestly?

Neither did I.

“There’s relief,” she admitted quietly. “And anger. And guilt.”

Her eyes filled again.

“Because now I don’t know who I’ve been mourning all these years.”

The words hit harder than yelling ever could.

I wiped quickly at my face.

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

Margaret stared at me for a long moment.

“I believe you loved her.”

My breath caught painfully.

“But that doesn’t erase any of this.”

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