“I’ve only known for a few weeks,” she said, staring at her lap. “I got a call from the addictions center a few days before you called to say you were coming here. And then, well, you’ve been here...and there hasn’t been the right time to talk to Reed. I haven’t even had the time to digest all of this myself. I thought he was dead.”

“So it’s my fault? My coming here?” Her friend’s justifications sounded like excuses to her. If her mother was still alive and safe, and someone was keeping that news from her...

“No, it isn’t at all your fault. I’m just saying that telling him will shatter him and I haven’t gotten the guts to do that yet,” she said, looking defeated. “I have tried, really, I have. But every time, I can’t get the words out.”

Erika understood that much at least. She sat next to her friend on the couch. A long silence fell between them. “Is your father’s addiction the reason he went away?”

Cassie nodded. “I only spoke to him for a few minutes, but he seemed in bad shape. He’s been struggling with alcohol issues for years. He and Mom met at the pub in Willow Lake...they fell in love when she was helping him through his first attempt at recovering...getting sober. He was okay for a long time. He stayed away from drinking and he was a great father. Then things started to change. As kids, we didn’t fully understand, but we could feel the tension in the house. Dad would come home later from work and he and Mom would argue. Reed would excuse his behavior, saying he was working a lot and he was just tired or stressed. He always sided with Dad.”

She took a deep breath. “Apparently, he fell off the wagon—bad—he spent his paycheck on a bender the weekend he disappeared and then he couldn’t face coming home.” She paused. “Then days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and he couldn’t get back to us. He had no idea how to find his way. He preferred letting us all think he was lost, because in a way he was. Reed was wrecked when Dad left. He refused to believe that he’d ever just leave us.”

Erika swallowed hard, her chest so tight she could barely breathe. Her own moment of truth. “I saw him a few years ago. He came in with...an injury.” She’d spare her friend the details. “He’d been drinking on the job. Once he recognized me, he asked to be treated by another doctor.”

Cassie looked pained.