Dad grunted. “That, I believe.” He looked to me and shook his head. “Unfortunately, you really are the only person Xander will listen to. If you’ve already tried and he’s denied you, then there’s not much else you can do without getting your ass kicked in court.” He dropped the fork and leaned back in his chair.

The pros and cons list in my head was pretty much all cons, but I knew one pro could outweigh them all.

“Tell me your reasons. I want to hear them while you’re…you.” I kept the words soft, but there was no mistaking the demand.

“I’m not trying to off myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I just don’t want to stay any longer than I have to. If the Lord is going to take my mind, then I sure as hell don’t want my body to hang around. The last thing I want is to wake up with no idea who or where I am, stuck in a hospital bed with a tube down my throat. I can’t imagine a life where anyone wants that…”

Taking on Xander… Dad was right. It would mean taking on the town, and I wasn’t exactly the welcomed prodigal son. Judge Bradley despised me, Xander probably had Milton Sanders on retainer as his attorney already, and there wasn’t another lawyer in town. I would be classified as a bigger villain than I already was, the bad seed who came home from war just to kill his dad, against the perfect blond mayor of Alba who was fighting to keep his father alive.

I’d never have peace here.

Maybe that was my penance, living a long, battle-filled life to pay for the one I’d failed to protect.

“I’ll do it,” I said, looking at Dad. “I’ll take it to court. I’ll fight for your right to determine your own fate. You deserve that much. But I want two things.”

Dad’s brows lowered. “Of course you do. What are they?”

“First, I want a truce.” I spoke every word clearly and slowly so he couldn’t possibly misunderstand.

“A truce.”

“I’m well aware that you share the same opinion of me as the rest of the town. I’m not stupid. But as of this moment, we have a truce. You don’t ban me from the house. You don’t attack me verbally, and you definitely don’t shoot me again.”

“The house…” He tilted his head.

“I’m still staying at Cal’s—at my house. It’s time, and I figure that my staying here would only make this harder.”

Dad nodded slowly, considering my words. “And second?”

My stomach twisted, but I knew this was my only chance.

“You hate me because I got Sullivan killed.”

Dad stiffened, his eyes stricken with pain and anger, but I kept on.