There is no way he will elude us again, which is why I decide to get to know the man who is my father better. I reach for the journals, but an envelope pushed aside on the bench catches my eye. Turning it over, I see the official stamp of the paternity testing company I used.
Slipping my finger under the seal, I open it and retrieve the sheet of paper. I don’t take a moment to process what I’m about to read. Instead, I scan through the results and read what I already knew to be true.
Shay is my son. He is a Kelly. And I’m the only parent he’ll know.
But when I look at the sleeping angel on my sofa, I realize that’s not true. Cami knew who Shay was the first moment she met him. She will love and nurture him like he is her own. She already has.
Tucking the results away, I decide to show Shay them when he’s older as this is who he is, and I want him to be proud of the fact. I want to be the father I never had. I will be.
With that thought, I reach for the stack of journals and bring them over to the sofa. I sit next to Cami, ensuring not to wake her. I run my fingers over the leather bindings, wondering why someone like Sean Kelly would write in a journal.
When I look down at the love of my life, I suddenly understand why.
Sean has no one to share his secrets with. My mother was probably the closest thing he knew of love, and look what he did to her. So, writing in these journals is Sean’s only form of communication with “another.”
Even sociopaths need a good gurn every now and again, it seems.
Opening the journal, I instantly clench my jaw when I see Sean’s distinct handwriting. Memories of when I first saw it crash into me, and I inhale slowly, needing to calm down.
The entry is dated when I was ten years old, which surprises me. Why is he looking at these old passages?
Connor is at it again—treating me like some eejit. He believes his kingdom is impenetrable. But soon, he will see that it’s not.
He’s hard on Punky. I wonder if it’s because he knows he isn’t his wain?
I know Cara would be disgusted in us both.
I often wonder if maybe I should take Puck away from this? He loves and respects me. I know he wishes I was his dad. If only he knew the truth. That I really am his father. But I know nothing of being a dad. I would only destroy him.
But when I rule, I’d like it to be with my son.
That’s not possible, though. Punky was born a leader, and I admire him for that.
I slam the journal shut, suddenly feeling uncomfortable reading a passage where Sean speaks so…fondly of me. Why is he reading these? Why is he digging up the past?
I’ve had enough reminiscing for the evening, so I carefully stand and decide to shower and catch a few hours’ sleep.
I send Cian a text first, however. It simply says:
I’m sorry. I’m here. Always.
He won’t want to see anyone. That’s how Cian is. But I want him to know I’m here if he needs me. I don’t know what happened to Amber, but no doubt, this was Liam’s or Sean’s doing. I only hope no one else loses their life to this never-ending war.
Ethan proved he can look after himself and those he loves. He doesn’t need protection. He is the toughest, most courageous man on my side.
Closing the door to the bathroom softly, I strip out of my bloody clothes, the events of the past…ten years catching up to me. Running a hand down my face, I decide to shave first.
Lathering the shaving gel onto my face, I reach for my razor but stop when the door opens, and Babydoll appears. She looks like she’s just woken up.
“Did I wake ya?”
She shakes her head, closing the door behind her.
She doesn’t speak, and I wonder if something is wrong. But when she gestures for the razor, I understand what she wants. Shaving is just a façade for what she really seeks.
I offer it to her.
She slides between me and the sink, her front facing mine. My body’s natural response to Babydoll is to shove her back against the wall and fuck her senseless. But I allow her this; this act of normalcy is what she needs.
I know the death of Amber hasn’t sunk in.
She commences shaving me carefully, her tender eyes watching her strokes cautiously. I trust her completely and savor being tended to this way, but only with her.
“I’m the world’s worst sister,” she says softly, never breaking concentration. “I haven’t spent any time with Eva since this entire ordeal started.”
“She’s safe with Ethan.”
“Who would have thought my sister and your brother?”
Again, it touches me that Ethan is referred to as being my brother.
“We can’t help who we love.”
She nods, appearing pensive over what I shared.
“Is that why you were reading Sean’s journals?”
Curiosity got the better of her, no surprise there.
“I don’t know why I took them,” I confess, trying to keep still as she shaves my cheek. She’s careful around the scar. “I hate him, and there is no doubt he will die by my hand. But I don’t understand him. I don’t understand how greed could change a person the way it has him.
“Those journals, they were from when I was a child. I found them in his drawer. Why would he be lookin’ at them? He has destroyed my life, but he’s lookin’ at journal entries from when I was a wain? Why? Why is he reminiscin’?
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
“You don’t understand him because you could never be like him,” she says softly. “I know you see yourself as a monster, but you’re not. You’re nothing like him.”
Even though I’ve never said it, Babydoll knows I’m afraid that I’m exactly like him. Truth be told, Sean has been the only father figure in my life. Connor was nothing like a father to me, but Sean was. He protected me, which to this day, I still don’t understand why.
Was he trying to shape me into his puppet, knowing it would come to this one day?
Killing him without answers will eat away at me for the rest of my life.
“It’s okay to feel bad,” she lightly states as she finishes shaving me.
Reaching for a washcloth, she runs it under the warm water and gently wipes it over my face. The act is so tender, I instantly feel relaxed.
“I didn’t want to accept it when Brody died, but even after everything he did, I still felt bad that he died. A part of me hated myself for it, but I think if we didn’t express some sense of remorse for those whose lives we take, then we’re just as much a monster as them.
“Someone wise once told me that it’s okay to feel bad. That vulnerability makes you strong. It makes you human—my human. And that’s what you are, Puck Kelly, you’re my human. I love you. Whatever choice you make, I want you to know I’ll stand by you—always.”
When she finishes washing my face, she lays a soft kiss against my mouth, comforting me as I did to her when she came to terms with her father’s death. I don’t want to accept what she says because what does that make me?
Weak, that’s what.
After everything Sean has done, I should be rejoicing in the fact that his days are numbered. But I’m not. I can’t help but feel…sad. Not sad that he’s dead, but rather, sorrowful that it’s ended this way. I wish things were different.