He said ‘don’t interrupt’, but when he stopped, she didn’t know what to say. She just looked at him, eyes searching his face. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for.
Finally, slowly, she said, “You wanted to be able to protect yourself. And — you didn’t kill him. Your dad.” She wasn’t even sure what he wanted her /to/ say.
“I wanted to, so many times,” he stated without shame, although he did avert his eyes and fidget with the edges of a nearby cushion. “And the night that he died, we…we had a massive fight, and he threw a glass at me. I wanted so badly to hit back but then…I’d be just as bad as him, wouldn’t I? Anyway, he froze when my face healed and I just ran…next thing I knew, he was dead,” he added on then and shrugged helplessly, hoping that she wouldn’t view him as callous and indifferent.
She tried to imagine someone — her father, her mother — throwing a glass at her. Something worse than being smacked.
She couldn’t. She couldn’t get her mind around the idea of being hurt on purpose by someone she trusted. But then, she cheated.
Summer made a small sound, struggling with words, then just reached up and kissed him. “It’s past,” she managed.