Kaden let his mom lead him to the sitting room. Here the furniture looked too nice for a casual cup of coffee. The room had always been off limits to him as a kid. A family portrait hung over the fireplace. Kaden wasn’t in it.

The woman came in with the carafe and mugs right behind them.

Once they were alone, his mother leaned forward and took his hand between hers. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He stared down at where they touched, closed his eyes, and tried to let himself believe this was a form of love, giving himself one last chance to feel it before he tore it all down. He took a deep breath and pulled his hand free.

His mother frowned.

“I didn’t come home for the funeral,” he said. “I came home because I took a girl’s memories.”

Sylvia stared at him with her head tilted to the side. She pursed her lips; then she set her mug on the table. “What do you mean you took them?”

“You know what I mean.” He searched her eyes. “The same thing you did to everyone in this town that summer—you made them all forget me.”

Sylvia shook her head slowly. “All the memories that this town lost were given up willingly. You know that.”

“No,” he said. “This wasn’t like that. I was at a bar. This woman was talking about her dead husband, and I said she could just forget it all. And so she did.”

Sylvia leaned forward and rested a hand on his knee. “Are you certain? Maybe you’d had too much to drink?”

“I know what happened.”

“It sounds like you don’t know what happened,” Sylvia said softly. “Grief is a funny thing.”

“I was not grieving him,” Kaden said. “I was celebrating the fact that an evil man is gone.”

Sylvia winced.

“What, like you’re not just as happy to finally be rid of him?”

She looked away and smoothed her hair. “He was your father.”

“Was he?” Kaden said. “He beat me. You watched it happen and you did nothing.”

The words hung between them.

“Or did you forget that, too?” he said.

She pulled back from him, her eyes narrowed to points. “Don’t think I haven’t wanted to forget. But I kept every single cut and bruise your father gave you right here.” She pressed a hand to her heart, perfectly choreographed, like an actress.

“Little good that did me,” Kaden said.

“I thought I was doing what was best for you, for our family. You deserved better,” she said, voice sharp. “I never should’ve let that man lay a hand on you. I should’ve left him.”

She leaned her head back against the couch with a sigh and rubbed at her temples.

“Then why didn’t you?”