I sat on the floor and stared.

For the first time since the hospital, I cried.

Not because I’d forgotten how difficult living with Dad had been.

Not because his death somehow erased the years of resentment.

I cried because I finally understood that there would be no more chances to change any of it.

Whatever our relationship had been, it was finished.

At least, that was what I believed.

Until Marcus arrived that evening.