Page 166 of Undone

“After we found Lily in that dump of a house, hiding under the blankets with you, she cried every night asking for you,” he continues. His voice is still grating, harsh—but filled with a pain I don’t recognize.

“She cried for you, for weeks. One goddamn day and you were the only thing she was asking for; the one thing that made her happy was that damn stuffed animal.” He looks away from me, rubbing at his mouth with his hands. I see the glint of gold across his wedding finger. He’s never taken it off—something that’s always surprised me. “I made her throw it away.”

My chest hurts. Of course he did. It was some raggedy teddy bear, once white but covered in grime, the lace of the heart sewn into its hands ripped and shredded with time and wear. It shouldn’t hurt, to know I’d given it to her, and he threw it away. It’s a stuffed animal from my childhood, something I haven’t seen or rarely thought about in seventeen years.

But . . . my mom gave it to me.

I remember that.

And it does hurt.

“Then, you were in my house again,” LaBlanc says coldly.

I blink and I’m seven years old, sneaking into the massive back gardens of an antebellum home, following bouncing red hair and high-pitched giggles, chasing my new friend into the door where I’ve never allowed myself to go. I blink again and I’m ten years old, sitting at the kitchen table while Lily gets scolded by her homeschool teacher, making us both stay until her dad comes in.

I knew he hated me on sight. I just didn’t know why.

“I never wanted you two to meet,” he says, unnecessarily. “And I knew that Lily had forgotten that night entirely, but I didn’t think you had.”

He waits and I realize he wants me to speak.

“I didn’t,” I croak out, hating how frayed my own voice sounds. I clear my throat, but it barely helps. “I thought I was fucking crazy, but I didn’t . . .”

I thought I’d invented her. Somehow, I’d dreamed her up in my head and made her real.

I don’t dare to let the words spill, bottling them up. I’m not a stupid teenager, like the version of myself that did think telling LaBlanc how much I loved his daughter would win me some favor. Instead, it only got me an extra practice and a black eye from an older kid on the team. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t prove he was behind it, I understood how he felt.

Never would LaBlanc approve of me with Lily. And never would he think of me as a son.

LaBlanc nods, before tapping his fingers on the desk, a grimace on his face.

“You have to understand, Toren,” he starts. I blanch. It’s the first time he’s ever said my name and not Kane. “I lost Lily’s mother because I wasn’t being careful. I loved her, desperately, and it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t going to lose Lily the same way.”

“You’re losing her right now,” I snap. “Don’t you get that?”

He has the nerve to look incensed. “Everything I’ve done has been for that girl.”

“You’re killing her,” I shout. “Even now—you’ve smothered her since she was a child. You’ve taken away everything from her until she was wilting in that house, just like her mom.”

“She’s my goddamn daughter.”

“She’s my fucking wife.”

He stands abruptly, and I wonder mildly if this will be the moment he finally hits me. Really hits me.

But he doesn’t say a word.

“Fuck this. I’m not talking about it with you. You’ll never get it through your thick skull. You threatened Lily,” I say. “To cut her off, because she married me.”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t a threat. She’s cut off. And she can kiss her goddamn inheritance goodbye.”

I take a deep breath to settle myself and pull the lollipop out of my mouth, twirling it in my fingers. “It doesn’t matter what I say. You’ll always be this. And maybe a part of Lily will always hold out some hope that you can be better, but I don’t have that. So, for her sake, let her go.”

His jaw tightens again, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Leave Lily alone.”

“Or what?”