Page 232 of Unexpected Heroine

That’ll have to wait. I can’t tell him about her now. No fucking way.

Lettie was insistent that meeting Big Al was the first part of her healing journey. Said she couldn’t focus on doing anything else until we made that right.

How the hell am I supposed to do that?

Truth is, I can’t.

This time, it has nothing to do with my desire to delay coming clean. Fucking hell.

She’ll be livid since I won’t be able to explain the reason. Last thing I want to do is tell her an attempt was made on her father’s life, and we’re all in danger. And I refuse to lie, giving her some bullshit excuse. Shit, shit, shit.

I should’ve told Big Al the other night after we saved Mia.

No. Fuck that. I should have told him eight damn years ago.

It’s almost as if this whole shitstorm is yet another example of how there’s never been a good time to tell him. In a way, it validates my excuse.

That doesn’t make it any easier.

Taking two seconds, I fire off a quick text to her, then get back to work.

Me:

I’m not going to be able to introduce you now. It’s not a good time. Just stay at the facility where you’re safe until you hear from me.

Chapter 42

Rage texting and phone calls (shudder)

LETTIE

The dictionary defines murder as the unlawful and premeditated killing of one human by another. In the great state—cough, bullshit, cough—of Florida, first-degree murder is punishable by life in prison or the death sentence.

Sadly, even if the victim really deserves to die, it’s prohibited. Especially if we aren’t talking about matters of self-defense or stand your ground.

And the fact that I’m sitting here thinking about it probably equates to premeditation, which would make my punishment worse.

I already spent the first part of my life living in an emotional prison thanks to my mother’s religious cage. Spending the rest of my life in a physical one doesn’t appeal to me.

Given these factors, it’s with a heavy heart that I decide to let Tomer live.

I’m entitled to meet my father, and he’s entitled to meet me. This is not Tomer’s decision to make. And I’ll be damned if I let him deny me my right. My birthright, to put a finer point on it.

Rather than instantly fly off the handle, I texted him for an explanation. Staring at my phone now, I look back over the conversation, only for my blood to boil once more.

Me:

Why not?

Dead to me:

Not now, Lettie.

Me:

Excuse me? This is important to me.

Dead to me:

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