He was crying. Even at this distance, I could see it—the bright sun glinting off the wetness on his cheeks. It shattered me. Cracked me wide open. I had never seen my father cry. Never. Not when Teller was born, not even after my mother had disappeared. He was steady, he was sure, an immovable force. For our family, he was the mighty shield no arrow could pierce. But this had broken him. I had broken him.
