“I…” He shook his head. “I don’t remember much about that.” His confession was quiet.

“It was Alexander who wrestled the gun away so you didn’t kill his little brother a few months ago. Is that true?”

Dad looked down, his gaze darting back and forth, fighting to remember. “That’s what I’ve been told.”

“You don’t remember that moment?”

“Not as clearly as I’d like,” Dad admitted.

“Okay, for the sake of establishing your memory loss, can you tell me how your son, Sullivan, died?”

I almost came out of my skin.

“Objection!” Simon shouted. “Immaterial. We already have his diagnosis on file.”

“It goes to suitability of the guardian, Your Honor.” Milton looked at the judge like he was requesting a transcript from his last college, not ripping apart my father.

“You’re on a short leash, Mr. Sanders,” Judge Wilson warned.

“Yes, Your Honor. Art, do you remember how Sully died?”

My hands clenched into fists beneath the table, and I savored the bite of pain from my nails, using it to ground and focus me.

“Sully…” Dad looked away.

I knew that look. We were about to lose him. “You have to stop this,” I whispered.

“I can’t.” Simon sighed. “I’m so sorry. I never thought Xander would use Sully.”

“Sullivan died in Afghanistan, right?” Milton pushed.

“That’s right,” Dad confirmed, nodding but still focused on the floor. “Afghanistan. He was shot.”

“In the neck, right?”

I was going to rip Milton’s head from his fucking shoulders.

“Right. His neck.” Dad started subtly rocking.

“Another one of your sons was with him. Do you remember?”

Dad slowly looked over to me, his eyes full of agonizing grief, and my throat closed. “Cam. Cam was with him.”

“Is it true that Camden ordered Sullivan’s squad into the firefight that took his life?”

“Yes.”

Left. I’d chosen the man standing to my left instead of my right. One choice made in a flash of a second. It had been the flap of the butterfly’s wings that began the hurricane. And we were all still drowning.

“That must be hard, knowing that Cam didn’t bring your Sully home safe.” Milton’s voice dripped with pity.

Dad’s face crumpled, and I found it hard to draw a breath.

“Objection!”

“Isn’t it true that you blame Cam for Sullivan’s death?”

“Leading the witness!”

“I… Yes. He gave the order. You gave the order.” Dad looked toward me, his eyes glazing over.

How could I argue with the truth?

“Withdrawn.” Milton immediately put out his hand to Simon, like he was the one who needed to calm down. “Art, can you tell me what you had for breakfast this morning?”

“What?”

My heart fell to the floor.

“Breakfast? Or dinner last night? Or maybe what you watched on TV? Can you tell me any of that?” Milton asked softly, like he actually cared.