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my things from the apartment building. The money you sent . . .” She took a deep breath. Tell the truth and get it over with. “The money you sent, plus what I had saved, I used to pay the back rent on the apartment. The apartment that the, ah, incident happened in had some damage, and I had to pay that person for the repairs. The rest I used for gas and food to get here.”
    â€œDo you have any left?”
    â€œEighty-­seven dollars and nineteen cents. It’s in my purse in the truck. I’ll get it for you.” She turned to fetch her purse but stopped at his command.
    â€œNo!”
    She turned back and cocked her head, trying to figure out the reason for his hostility. If this is how he spoke and acted all the time, she’d leave. She couldn’t spend another minute of her life constantly on guard, watching every word she said and everything she did.
    â€œSorry. You don’t need to give me the money. I sent it for you to get here. I guess you managed that and taking care of your business back home.
    â€œI have to say, I’m at a complete loss at your appearance. I mean, I knew he hurt you, but I never expected it to be this bad. Are you okay?”
    â€œNo,” she answered honestly.
    â€œWhy’d you kill him?” her grandfather asked.
    Might as well get everything out in the open. Maybe then they could move on.
    Gillian thought about the answer to that loaded question. She could give him the simple answer. Her father had been a bastard. He’d hit her. He’d come at her with a gun, crazed on methamphetamines. Instead of going with the simple, she gave him the cold, hard truth.
    â€œWhen I was five, I used to think he’d come into my room and kill me one night in a drunken, doped-­up rage. By the time I was ten, there were a lot of days and nights that I thought if he hit my mother or me one more time I might just kill him. When I was fourteen, I knew I’d lay down my life if he ever crossed the line.
    â€œHe knew the line, and he crossed it. He brought the gun, not me. I did what I had to do. He had a choice. He didn’t give me one.
    â€œThat man needed killing.”
    She watched his face as she spoke the harsh truth. His healthy glow withered, and he aged at least twenty years in the blink of an eye. Stress and fatigue took over his features, and his eyes and jaw softened. Looking closer, dark circles marred the underside of his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well. Worry and concern filled his eyes, but she wasn’t sure why.
    Did he hate her for what she’d done?
    Her words rang in Bud’s mind. The way she said them surprised him. No anger or fury. Just a cold, honest truth that shot through him. He hadn’t known what to expect. This woman standing in front of him with strength of mind and pride enough for ten ­people surprised him even more. She wasn’t just any girl. She was a survivor and wouldn’t suffer fools or bullies. She wasn’t the little girl he’d expected. Maybe somewhere under the bravado was the soft and sweet child he’d hoped to see. On second thought, anything soft and sweet in her had probably been squashed and decimated by Ron’s harsh words and mighty fists.
    â€œI killed my father, my own flesh and blood. I understand if you don’t want me here.”
    He took a step toward the edge of the porch and called out to stop her from walking back to her truck and leaving. “I just wanted to know. I needed to hear the truth from you. Your mother, Erin . . .”
    He hadn’t said her name in years. The pain of all he’d lost, the regrets he carried like a stone in his gut, the dreams he’d had for his little girl that had left him brokenhearted when she’d thrown her life away on drugs washed through him.
    â€œErin had a wild streak no one could tame. She harbored unrealistic dreams of leaving this place and living a glamorous life. In