“It’s okay,” he whispers, his hand warm against my face. “Everything is okay now.” I shake my head. “No, I’m so sorry, Luka. I shouldn’t have trusted my father. I shouldn’t have—” “I should have trusted you,” he says, interrupting me. “None of this would have happened if I’d trusted you.” I stare at him. The words are familiar, and I wonder if he remembers— “I may have been half-conscious, but I heard you yelling at me loud and clear.” He looks at me, and his mouth tips up in a smile. “You really know how to shame a dying man.”
