On the last night, the doctor pulled me into the hallway. “It could be a matter of hours now, Rosalie.”
I nodded because if I’d opened my mouth, I would have come apart.
When I came back in, Frank looked asleep. I sat and slid my hand under his.
His fingers closed around my wrist. Hard.
“Promise me you’ll hear all of it before you hate me,” he said.
I stared at him. “I could never hate you.”
His skin was cold under mine. “I’ve lied to you your whole life.”
I tried to laugh it off. “Dad, you’re exhausted. Let me call the nurse—”
“My mind is clear.” His grip tightened. “Everything you think you know about your childhood — about who I am — it’s only half the story.”
My pulse started slamming.
“What are you talking about?”
“I need you to find out before I’m gone. Even though I swore I’d carry it to my grave.”
