Root out every poisonous vine. He saw it now, in startling clarity. Some of those vines cared for him, but that didn’t make their poison less toxic. He’d made excuse after excuse for his aunt. She loved him. She meant well. She wanted the best for him. None of that mattered. “I will not hear you speak of my mother that way. I will not hear you speak of my wife that way. And you will never tell my children that they are a mistake. Ever.”
