Guilt is what you feel when the loss is your fault.

This loss was not my fault.

It had my father’s name on it, and my brother’s, and it had been coming for years, and I had only, finally, stepped out of the way of it.

I walked down the driveway into the afternoon light, got into Lennox’s car, and did not look back at the house in the mirror as we pulled away.

Chapter 37 — The Front Row, By My Design

The fallout was swift.