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This felt stupid, talking to grass.
But he swallowed and found he couldn’t stop. “I was wrong about my dad, too. I think—I think he would have liked you.”
His voice broke.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
The breeze kicked up fiercely, lifting his hair and drying the tears that swelled in his eyes. Then the air went calm, soothing against his skin.
And he felt her in that, too.
“I couldn’t kill him for you,” he said quietly, touching his fingers to the grass. “I failed again.”
A hand rested on his shoulder. “You didn’t fail,” said Michael.
Hunter didn’t say anything to that.
“You kept Silver from killing those kids.”
“I didn’t kill him. I should have killed him.”
“Vengeance isn’t a solution, Hunter. I think your dad knew that. And I think you know it, too.”
He was right. Hunter wasn’t ready to let go of the vengeance yet, but he was right.
Michael hesitated. “My dad used to say something that made me nuts. ‘If you can’t fix what went wrong—’ ”
“Then fix what you can make right.” Hunter looked up at him. “My dad used to say that, too.”
“Good advice.”
Hunter looked back at the ground. The air felt peaceful.
“Thanks,” he said to Michael. “For bringing me here.”
“You ready to go? Or do you want more time?”
Hunter touched the grass one last time. Then he stood. “I’m ready. Let’s go home.”
