“You’ve never been willing to hear what happened that day. Not past the choice I made.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed.

“When this is over, when I’ve given you what you want, you’ll listen. Maybe you’ll hate me even more once you know the truth of it. That’s a chance I’m going to have to take. At least I’ll know your hatred will be based on fact.” It was the most I’d said about Sullivan’s death in six years.

I saw the rebellion in Dad—the curl of his fists and the flare of his nostrils as he struggled for control.

“If you deserve to determine your future, then I deserve to explain my past.”

His eyes met mine in a clash of will and grief, but finally he nodded. “Fine. But I have one caveat.”

“Of course you do.” I used his own words on him.

“There are days and moments when I won’t be able to keep our truce. I can’t remember who I am, let alone who you are. And those days will come when even if I do recognize you, it might not be this version of you I’m seeing.” He gestured to my torso.

“Okay. I can handle that.” I didn’t expect the sadness that engulfed me, clogging my throat as he admitted that he was no longer himself 100 percent of the time. No longer completely sane or dependable. The man who preached that you were only as good as your word was no longer capable of keeping his.

“Then, we have a deal.” He thrust out his hand, and I shook it. His grip was firm as always, and it was over in a heartbeat.

“So where would you start this whole battling-the-town thing?” I asked, returning to my salad.

Dad looked to Dorothy, who shook her head, dabbing at her eyes. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me, Arthur Daniels. I can’t remember the last time you took my advice on anything.”

“Come on, Dorothy,” Dad cajoled.

“You already know what I’m thinking.”

“The Historical Society,” he guessed.

Every road around here seemed to lead back to that damn organization.

“It’s the fastest way to remind this town who he is and where he comes from. Out of the thirty-five voting members, there are only five founders living in Alba, and your boy comes from one.” She turned to me. “But you have to start acting like you don’t hate everyone and everything this town stands for.”

“I can do that.” I didn’t hate everyone. Just the majority of Alba.

“And cover those up.” She motioned toward my tattoos. “Long sleeves for at least a month. You’re scaring the little kids.”

I laughed, thinking of Rose and her absolute lack of fear as I used her unicorn ice pack. “You mean I’m offending the morning crew at Ivy’s.”