That’s why he was in jail? I was the child of a murderer. I felt my stomach twist and tighten. I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter. It didn’t change who I was. It shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, right? I knew he had to have committed some sort of felony to be serving a life sentence. Why did the fact that it was murder affect me so much? Why did the idea that he had murdered my grandfather make me so sick to my stomach? “Are you all right, Garrett?” my mother asked after taking her eyes off the road for a moment. I nodded weakly unable to open my mouth to utter a sound. “You really don’t look so good, baby. Do you need me to pull over?” Holly didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she crossed two lanes of traffic and pulled off onto the shoulder of the highway. I opened the door and let the bile that had been churning in my stomach flow out of me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said as she rubbed my back and held my hair out of my face.
