Page 100 of The Villain

I would be weak to choose anger when forgiveness takes far more strength.

“But first, I want to give you these.” He reached in his back pocket and extended his hand, a stack of envelopes in his grasp.

“What…” I recognized them instantly.

“The day we went to search your house. We were in your old room, and I saw them in the dresser. I don’t know why—no, I do know why…I took them. Read them.” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry.”

My tongue slid over my lips. “Sorry for reading letters that were written to you?”

He frowned. “You never sent them.”

“Because if I never sent them, I never had reason to expect a letter in return,” I murmured, and when he still looked unconvinced, I added, “I never sent them out of self-preservation, not secrecy.”

And knowing he’d read them felt like a weight lifted from my chest that I hadn’t even known was there, it had been resting steady for so long.

“I got all your letters, Athena,” he rasped. “Every one. And I read them so many times, the ink is too faded to read them anymore.”

He hadn’t even gotten to the explanation of his silence yet, and already I felt tears prick at the pain on his face.

“The week after I’d left for boot camp, Rob’s parents died,” he began, his strapped arm clenching and releasing in a fist. “It was such a shock—the whole situation—I didn’t know how to write to you about it, and I couldn’t come home. My parents were devastated, and Rob…Harm was deployed. Izzy was too young. They asked me to talk to her, to console her. And I just remember sitting in silence on the phone because I didn’t know what to say.”

I banded my arms tighter over me, imagining the position he’d been put in.

“I was eighteen…you don’t experience a lot of death by eighteen.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I tried to be there for her. For my parents. But no matter what I said, it didn’t feel like enough. And because it wasn’t immediate family, I couldn’t go home. It was like I was trapped in a room with a door with no knob. I couldn’t—” He broke off with a huff. “I couldn’t figure out what to say to help them…and I couldn’t figure out what to say to you.”

“I’d never blame you for that,” I said softly. We were both kids.

“I started a letter to you at least a dozen times. I tried to find the right words…” He shifted his weight, shadows haunting his face like ghosts. “But what were the right words to say when your mom was sick again? Back in the hospital? It felt like everyone I cared about was hurting, and there was nothing I could do.”

Tears burned in the corners of my eyes, and I fought to keep them from falling.

“You didn’t have to do anything, Dare.”Except be there.“I just needed you.”

His mouth pulled into a hard line, his chin nodding like he was signaling the executioner to let the axe fall.

“I was going to call you. I didn’t have a lot of phone time, and the time I did have, I kept spending it talking to my family or Rob…but I remember the day I was going to call you,” he insisted. “We’d just finished morning drills. I remember the mud on my boots because it rained the night before. I remember I couldn’t see the sun through the clouds. But I remember thinking if I just talked to you, it would be okay.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, they streaked down my cheeks like my chin was the finish line.

“I don’t remember holding my breath, but I do remember the way it rushed out when instead of being released to free time, our drill sergeant told us to head to the chapel on base,” he went on, his voice growing hoarse. “My buddies and I thoughtit was some fresh variation on the…hell of boot camp. And I guess, in the end, it was.”

I brought my hand to my throat, needing to feel it bob to convince myself I could still swallow. “What happened? What did they make you do?”

He stared at me, his eyes darkening to a black hollow. “Watch.” The single word made my stomach tighten. “There was a soldier—a fallen soldier who’d just been brought back to the base. His body was being delivered to his family.”

My pulse hammered underneath my fingertips, imagining him in that moment. Eighteen. Alone. His family suffering through their own tragedy, relying on him to try and pull them through from a distance. Me, needing his support as my mom declined. And then having to face this. The reality of war.The possibility…

“One of my buddies asked our drill instructor why we were there. There would be a service where we could pay our respects, but not intrude on a private moment…” He exhaled slowly. “His response was that we all needed to be prepared for our future, should this be it.”

“Oh, Dare…”

“It was like you see on TV: the casket draped with an American flag,” he forged on. “But they never show you the grief. At least not like this. His mother couldn’t stop sobbing. I swear the sound of her cries echoed in the chapel for weeks after that day.” He brought his free hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching it as his jaw muscle tightened.

It was then that I couldn’t stop myself. I stepped forward until I was in front of him—until I could put my hand on his arm and convince myself that he wouldn’t crumble under the pain.

He tensed. I was afraid he’d pull away—that I’d gone toofar. But he didn’t. He lowered his hand and opened his eyes slowly.

“But it was the sight of his wife I’ll never forget.” And with those words, my heart broke in its entirety for him. “She couldn’t even stand. When she saw the casket, she crumbled. Two of us went to her. Lifted her and held her upright. I fumbled for the same words I’d tried to find for Rob. That she was strong. That she’d survive this.”

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