So I told her about my dad and the crosses, the slap, the urge to crush him, snapping at Barabas, the witches, and watching Curran and my son die. Andrea sat still for a long moment. “Well, that fucking sucks.” “Yeah.” “Can you kill Roland?” “I’m not sure I want to.” And that came right out. “Of course you don’t want to. He’s your father.” I stared at her. She rubbed her stomach and grimaced. “The kid won’t settle down.”
