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Liv
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“What do you mean you have to fix things? You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, pushing back from the hug, needing to look him in the eye, and he shakes his head and walks over to the bed, taking his head in his hands. I also don’t miss the stench of alcohol on him. “Tyson, please talk to me. What is going on?” I ask, sitting next to him and placing my hand on his back. I have never seen him like this.
He says it’s wrong; it’s all wrong, causing me to ask him again what he’s talking about, getting frustrated now as he refuses to make sense.
“What I knew about my parents—all of it is wrong, Liviana. My mother never killed my father; the bastard deserved to die,” he says, and I ask who told him this but speak again before he could reply, realizing his mother must have
