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My curt tone shocked her into silence, and I heard why. I sounded like my father. My voice filled the room like my father. I closed my eyes, trying to swallow down the taste of my father’s voice within my own.

“I’m sorry.”

She took my hand. “It’s okay.”

I shook my head, ignoring the dull pain I still felt. “It’s not.”

“You just wanted me to—”

“I sounded just like him, and that's not okay. Because my father isn’t an okay kind of man. You and I both know this.”

Damn it, I wished I could fucking look at the woman. To read her face. To look in her eyes. To let her know she wasn’t alone in all this.

I licked my lips. “What do you mean, he’s like your father?”

Cecilia paused. “I’m not sure if I should really be talking about something like that with you.”

“Why? Because Dad told you not to? Or because you don’t want to?”

And when she fell silent, I knew the reason why.

“Don’t let Dad be that control freak with you, okay? He gets it enough with me,” I said.

She squeezed my hand. “Your father