Darren led him around the side, away from onlookers and pulled him into a hug. Then something happened that hadn’t happened since they were kids — Pete was crying in his arms, his shoulders heaving. Darren held him tighter.

‘I’m not crying for him,’ Pete said. ‘You know that, right? I’m not crying for that bastard. I’m crying for who he was, when we were younger . . . before all of this. And I’m crying for my daughter.’

‘I know, mate, I get it.’ And Darren started crying too.

Eventually, they both pulled themselves together and Darren snorted.

‘What’s funny?’ Pete asked.

‘Sorry, nothing. But I just thought, at least we know now he wasn’t some sort of genius when it came to writing. Can you believe he stole Dad’s book?’

‘I know. Completely absurd. Can you believe Dad was a writer?’

‘Nope.’ Darren rubbed his hand around the back of his neck. ‘I mean, he was in construction. I never thought he even had any interest in that type of thing. Why do you think he kept it from us?’

Pete shrugged. ‘Nerves? You reckon that’s where we got it from? The writing gene, so to speak?’

‘Maybe? It’s a bloody good book. Wish we could have had the chance to chat to him about it.’

‘Me too.’

*

Jill

Dear Frank,

We’re burying our son today. Parents aren’t meant to bury their children, are they? But we already know what that’s like, don’t we?

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t made it through the accident either. I don’t feel like I deserve to be here. Knowing what happened to Callie . . . it cracks open my heart and it makes me sick to my stomach. I want to cry and scream and rage. I want to yell at Tony, but I can’t, can I? If he was somehow here again though, the first thing I would do is grab hold of him and hug him tightly. Because as much as I’m furious with him, I still love him. I still want him back. He’s still our son.

But he’s gone. And who’s left to blame? Me. Because I was his mother and I didn’t see it. I was too protective of him to pick up on the signs. And if I had realised, I could have got him help. It didn’t have to turn him into a monster. It didn’t have to be that way. With the right support, he could have lived his life without ever hurting anyone. I’ll never forgive myself for not saving Callie from the pain and the trauma.