“Well.” His expression is wry. “She remarried. My youth pastor, if I remember correctly, so I doubt she’s been in real dire straits. Popped out three more—”

“Don’t do that.” I cut him off. “Don’t you dare. You had sex with women on your staff while married to her.”

He shrugs. “I’m a sex addict. Not that it’s any of your business, son, but I’m in recovery.”

“Fuck you.”

“Micah,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Is this all? You’re just in here to what? Complain how I ruined your life? Fine. I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning to drag you all down with me. I wasn’t planning to get caught in the first place. So, I am sorry that you’ve had to suffer for my misdeeds, and I’m very sorry for what happened at Pictured Rocks. I never in a million years dreamed it was you. I wouldn’t have struck had I known.” Before I can say anything, he raises a hand. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was willing to hit a stranger. I was ready to leave a stranger to die in the cave. I’m not a good person, Micah. I deserve what’s coming to me.”

I’m speechless for several long minutes. I keep opening my mouth, but nothing comes out. I had planned for defensive. I’d even planned—naively—for apologetic.

I hadn’t planned for complacent. I don’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t seem sorry but resigned.

“If I hadn’t been in that cave, you weren’t ever going to reach out to me, were you?”

He shakes his head. “No. You never came to see me. I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“It’s not my job to come to see you. You’re the parent. You’re the adult. You’re supposed to reach out to me. You’re supposed to want to reach out to me. To try.”

He doesn’t say anything, and holy shit, that sucks. I exhale slowly and straighten. Because as much as this hurts, I came here to say something, and this is my chance.

“I loved you. I—” I shake my head. “I believed you. I stood up for you. I prayed for you every night. I stopped going to church because of you. Mom went bankrupt because of you. We lost our home because of you.” I stand up. “This”—I gesture to my physique—“happened because I needed to distance myself from you. To protect myself. I thought, ‘Let him come and see me. Write me a letter. I’ll set it on fire. Call me and I’ll hang up. He rejected me, and I can’t wait to reject him back.’”

“Now, son…”