One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (macos ebook reader .TXT) 📕

out of emotion and said something he later regretted, but it was always a rare occurrence. And when it did happen, it would eat away at him. He hated being the cause of someone’s discomfort.

Tara knew he was choosing his words carefully.

He sighed. “Sorry if I made you feel awkward when I told my mom to stop…I just…I was trying to prevent you from feeling uncomfortable, and I feel like I did exactly what I was trying to prevent.” He let out a slight chuckle.

“It’s okay,” Tara replied, now sitting up as well. “I know you were just trying to protect me, but you don’t always need to do that. I can handle replying myself.”

Tara leaned over and kissed his cheek, and he smiled. But even though she reassured him that there was no need for him to feel like he had to protect her, deep down she was glad that John said something.

In reality, his mother had caught her off-guard. Tara had a feeling that if John didn’t step in—if the lights didn’t go out—her discomfort would’ve been written all over her face. But she refused to admit that to him. John already had enough reason to worry about her.

But Tara knew that wasn’t all John wanted to say. There was something else on his mind. He was now turned fully toward her. Concern swirled in his eyes as each flash of lightning filled the room.

He sighed. “We also haven’t spoken about you going to see your dad in a while. I feel like you’ve kind of been avoiding it.”

It was exactly what Tara anticipated. But at the same time, she felt very unprepared for the conversation. He was right; she had been avoiding it. Because deep down, she had doubts. What if she was wrong about what she saw? The question had been rolling around in her mind for weeks. And she had wondered, if she were indeed wrong, would seeing her father be worth it? What if it only opened her psychological scars wider?

“I’m just starting to wonder,” she started, “if it’s really a good idea.” She looked down at her hands, clenched anxiously together in her lap. She couldn’t see John’s reaction, but she sensed him lift his head up.

“Why?”

His question stirred a strange feeling. Because, in reality, she could think of so many reasons why she shouldn’t go see him. But she also knew that deep down, her biggest hesitation was just seeing him. She didn’t know if she was ready to open that door.

 “What if I’m wrong?” she finally said. “What if I allow him into my life and it only makes everything more complicated? What if I’m not ready?” The questions poured out of her mouth, and when she finished, John moved closer to her, grabbing hold of her hand.

“I don’t think you’re ever going to feel completely ready,” he started. “But I also know you, and I know you wouldn’t even have thought of doing this if you didn’t feel a strong need to.”

He was right. Tara knew that something had always felt off to her about the night of her mother’s murder. It was something that had been eating away at her for years, and she had finally admitted what troubled her. But now that it was out in the open, it had stirred a new level of anxiety. It was the thought of seeing her father after all these years. It was the fear of opening a door she had tried so hard to close.

When she was younger, he had written to her for years. Her grandmother had allowed her to make the decision herself if she wanted to read the letters—and a few she did. In some odd way, she felt like she needed to. Her life had changed so drastically as a child, and she missed her old life, her family, her mother. His letters were mostly questions for her––asking how she was doing, what she did for her birthday, and so on. At first, she read her father’s letters because she craved her old life. But as she grew older, that craving turned into anger, and she eventually stopped reading them. She never wrote back, and he eventually stopped writing too.

Tara feared that by visiting him, she would give him new hope, and then she would have to painfully push him out of her life again.

“It’s going to be strange seeing him.” John’s voice caused her to look up, realizing that she had been absorbed in her thoughts. “But just because you see him once doesn’t mean you ever have to again. I think you’ll regret not trying to get some answers.”

Tara nodded. “I just worry that he’s going to try to weasel his way back into my life, and I don’t want that. I don’t want anything to do with him except to find answers.”

It was another fear of hers. What if she was right? What if someone else was in the room? Who could it have been? What would it mean? Would it mean she would need to see him again? And what if finding the answer was more painful than not knowing? Those thoughts danced frantically around in her head.

She was very young when her father went to prison, but her memories of him in general were not positive. He was an angry drunk who would take everything out on her mother. She didn’t know what secrets he kept buried, but she knew it was possible that he did.

“Well, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. You don’t have to let anyone into your life that you don’t want in it. But if you need answers, don’t let him hold that power over you. You owe it to yourself to get them.”

Tara nodded again. “You’re right.”

She did need answers, or she’d be plagued with nightmares once again, and it would inevitably affect her job.

“You’re in control now,” John added, squeezing her hand.

His words suddenly sparked something within her, and she sat