Chapter 4 Why Didn't You?

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and final. Lyra felt the ground tilt beneath her feet, her chest tightened, her breath catching somewhere between her lungs and her throat.

"What?" she whispered.

Cade didn't repeat himself. Just stood there, his jaw locked, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, that's not... when? How?"

"Three years ago."

Three years.

Her father had been gone for three years, and no one told her, not him, not anyone.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice cracked. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"You didn't need to know."

"I didn't need to know?" she repeated, her voice rising. "He was my father, Cade. I had a right to know."

"You had a mother to deal with," he said, his tone clipped. "You didn't need this on top of it."

"That wasn't your choice to make."

He didn't respond. Just stared at her with those same cold eyes.

Lyra felt something crack inside her chest, the grief, the anger, the eight years of silence, all of it crashed down on her at once.

"How did he die?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," she said, louder now. "Yes, it matters."

Cade's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

"Tell me," she demanded, stepping closer. "Tell me what happened to him."

He turned away from her, his shoulders tense. "Accident. Head trauma. That's all you need to know."

"That's all I need to know?" she repeated, her voice breaking. "Cade, he was my father."

"I know."

"Then why are you acting like this?" she asked, her hands trembling at her sides. "Why are you so cold?"

He didn't answer. Just stared out the window like she wasn't even there.

Lyra felt the tears coming, hot and unwelcome. She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to hold them back, but it didn't work.

"I came here looking for him," she said, her voice thick. "I thought he could help me. I thought..." She stopped, her throat closing up.

Cade's shoulders tensed, but he still didn't turn around.

"Get some sleep," he said finally, his voice low.

"I don't want to sleep," she shot back. "I want answers."

"Not now."

"Cade..."

"Not tonight, Lyra."

The way he said her name, sharp and final, made her stop, she stared at his back, her chest heaving, her hands still shaking.

"Where are you going?" she asked when he started walking toward the door.

"Out."

"You can't just leave," she said, her voice breaking. "You can't just tell me my father's dead and walk away."

He stopped in the doorway but didn't turn around.

"I'll be back," he said, and then he was gone.

Lyra stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway, then her legs gave out.

She sank to the floor, her back against the wall, her hands covering her face, and she cried.

She cried for the father she barely got to know, for the eight years she lost, for the fact that she'd never get them back. She didn't know how long she sat there.

Eventually, she heard the front door open. Footsteps in the hallway, the sound of boots on hardwood. Cade was back.

She didn't move, just sat there with her knees pulled to her chest, her face buried in her arms. The footsteps stopped.

"Lyra."

His voice was quieter now, almost softer but she didn't answer.

"You need to sleep," he said.

"I can't," she whispered.

Silence.

Then she heard him move, felt him crouch down in front of her.

"Look at me."

She didn't want to, didn't want him to see her like this, but she lifted her head anyway.

His face was closer now, the hard lines softened just a little. His eyes weren't as cold.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She stared at him, her throat tight. "For what?"

"For not telling you sooner."

She shook her head. "You should have called. Eight years, Cade. You could have called."

His jaw tightened. "I know."

"Then why didn't you?"

He looked away. "Because it was easier."

"Easier for who?"

He didn't answer.

Lyra wiped her face with the back of her hand, her voice steadier now. "I want to see him."

Cade's eyes snapped back to hers. "What?"

"I want to see where he's buried," she said. "I need to say goodbye."

He stood up, his expression hardening again. "That's not a good idea."

"I don't care," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "I need this."

"Lyra..."

"Please," she said, cutting him off. "Please, Cade."

He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he said. "Tomorrow."

"Now."

"We can do this tomorrow."

"I don't care."

"Lyra..."

"Now," she said again, her voice breaking. "Please."

He stared at her, something flickering in his eyes, something that looked like pain, then he nodded.

"Get your jacket."