Mac continued, and I understood why he was telling me all this. “I realized I didn’t want to be a cop, but I felt suited to protecting people. When a security position came up for a senator, I applied. I got it. From there, I worked as a bodyguard for a few wealthy clients. I was on a work trip in Los Angeles and quite by chance was introduced to Lachlan. His first big film was a huge hit, and his face was everywhere. He was looking for a permanent security team. At first, we were just two Scotsmen happy to be in the company of a fellow Scotsman, but then we realized we got along well, and I accepted his offer to join his team.”
Mac sighed again. “Robyn, I won’t lie to you and say I left Boston just for the money. I loved my job, and I liked traveling. In the end, I was a selfish prick.”
I didn’t know what to say. Mostly because I didn’t disagree.
“But I did try. I promise you, I tried.” He reached for my hand, squeezing it tight. “Something happened between your mother and me, and … when I told her I was taking the job with Lachlan and that we’d need to figure out a new custody arrangement, she told me that she was still in love with me and she didn’t want me to leave.”
I think my jaw might have hit the floor. “When … I was … but I was twelve. Regan was eight. Mom and Seth had been married almost as long.”
“It came out of nowhere for me.”
“I can imagine.” Jesus Christ. No wonder Seth and Mom had argued so much back then.
“I suspected she was just going through something and was fixated on the idea that whatever was making her unhappy was losing me. I didn’t believe that was what was wrong with her, and I told her to stay with Seth who loved her. To talk to him. Figure things out. But your mum … och, I don’t know, Robyn. I don’t know if part of it was that she was a wee bit jealous of my new job, my new life …”
“And the way I hero-worshipped you,” I added.
“Aye, maybe that too.” He released my hand but only to slump back in his chair. He looked exhausted, and I was just about to open my mouth to suggest we leave it there and talk later when he continued. “She started making it impossible to see you. Anytime I had time off and could fly back to Boston, it wasn’t the right time for her. When I asked if you could spend a few weeks in LA with me during the summer, she said no. It went on like that for a while, until you were about fourteen, I think, and out of the blue, she called and told me I needed to come to Boston, that you needed me, you missed me.”
When I was fourteen?
Oh my God.
The panic attacks. The doctor’s appointments.
She must have felt guilty for keeping him from me once she realized how badly his abandonment affected me.
I told Mac about the episodes at school.
Mac looked furious before he quickly cleared his expression. “Right. Well … that makes sense. I don’t know what happened after that, but … that was the last time I saw you. Every time after that, your mum made it harder to see you. We’d argue on the phone until my ears almost bled. She threatened to take me to court, to take away my parental rights. Warned me that no court would grant custody to a man whose job meant he traveled at the drop of a hat. She wasn’t wrong, Robyn.” He glared. “And I’m a selfish bastard because in that moment, I should have just gone back to Boston.”
“And let her bully you into it?” I knew how I’d have felt about that. My stubborn ass hated to be pushed into anything.
“Pride should not have come before my daughter.”
There it was.
“Nor the love of a job.”
“But it did.”
“I wrote to you,” he blurted out, expression almost desperate. “Real letters,” he huffed with unamused laughter. “It was alien to me to do something like that, but I needed a connection with you, and she wouldn’t even give me your email address.”
“Couldn’t you have hacked me or something?” I half-heartedly joked.
“I could have reached out to you without your mum’s knowledge, yes. But I didn’t want to do it that way, no matter how desperate I was. I didn’t want you to know you were caught in a war between us.”
Shocked, I shook my head. “I didn’t get any letters.”
“Your mother returned them unopened. I wrote until you were nineteen, and I sent you birthday and Christmas presents. And Regan too.”
“We never got them.” My hands curled into fists on my lap. Was this true?
“No, I know. I kept hoping Stacey would see I was sincere about wanting to see you and that she’d give the letters, the gifts, to you. She never did. But she’d return them with her own letters, updating me on your life. She sent me photographs, bits and pieces of work you’d done at school. Copies of your high school and graduation certificates, a photo of you at your graduation from the academy. The last photo she sent was four years ago, on your twenty-fourth birthday. You were in a bar somewhere, big, giant yellow cake in front of you, a guy covered in tattoos had his arms around you.”
Oh my God. She had sent him photos. “Axel. My ex-boyfriend. He was a musician. We had a birthday dinner at my favorite Irish pub. The whole family. Regan too.”
“I still have everything,” Mac said. “My letters and your mother’s. In my cottage. You can have them.”
Something hot and furious built inside me. “Why didn’t you tell me about them sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think I was using them to put the blame on Stacey. She and I are both at fault. I didn’t even think I would tell you about them because I didn’t want to harm your relationship with your mother, but that was before I knew your relationship with her isn’t perfect.”
“No relationship is perfect.” I pushed up out of the chair, needing to walk, restless rage surging through me. “But this is worse than I imagined. She lied to me? I … I have to see the letters.” I had to know if it was true.
Mac cautiously got out of his chair and crossed the room to the bedside table. He rummaged through its drawer, grabbed something, and then made his way back to me. He held out the key in his hand. “The key to my house. The letters, mine and your mum’s, are in a box under my bed.”
I stared at the key. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gone into his house without him. But searching under his bed? “Your privacy …”
“I’ve nothing to hide. Take it.”
I did, the metal warm from Mac’s hand.
We stared warily at one another.
Then he whispered, “I can’t undo the damage I’ve done, as much as I wish I could. You have no idea how much I wish I could. My only excuse is that I truly believed you were better off without me. And I’m so sorry for how wrong I was.”
I didn’t think I had any tears left, but they slipped down my cheeks now. “I want to move on. I do. I just don’t know how to let go of the past.”
“Then read the letters. If, after that, you can’t, I won’t hold it against you, Robyn. No matter what you decide to do, I will love you. I will always love you, wee birdie.”
18
Robyn