“Is that the kid? What’s his name? Sebastian?” her father rattled off, excitement glinting in his eyes like he’d finally happened upon a morsel of information to feed his friend, a faux feather in his cap of lies.
Did the man not understand she saw through him? All Sebastian was to him was something to gloat about. She could see the whirlwind of questions whipping around inside her father’s mind.
Was the boy getting in the way of the Lion’s training?
Was that distraction enough to tip the scales and secure a win for Silas Scott?
She balled her hands into tight fists.
His piqued interest in Sebastian was the last straw.
“Don’t say his name,” she bit out, adrenaline firing through her veins.
“Mibby,” the boy called again.
“He needs you. Go on. I’ll be up after I see your father to his car,” Raz said, his tone even as he pointed to where her father had parked his sedan, hidden behind a cluster of blue spruce.
She held his gaze—his remarkably steady gaze.
“It’s all right, plum.”
Without another glance at her father, she entered the Victorian, hurried up the stairs, and found Sebastian, twisted in his covers. The boy pushed up onto his elbow, blinking as the light from the hallway entered his darkened room.
“I’m here, honey. What is it?” she asked, kneeling as she untangled his leg from the bedsheet.
“I’m not in my pajamas,” the boy slurred, half asleep.
“It’s okay for tonight. Lie down and close your eyes.”
Sebastian sank into his pillow. “Can we do the happy thoughts meditation?”
She nodded. She could use some happy thoughts right about now, too. “Here we go,” she began, working to keep the shake out of her voice. “Take a deep breath, and picture a time when you were truly happy. Hold that feeling inside your chest, close to your heart.”
“I’m riding my bike with you and Dad and Plum and Beefcake,” he answered, the corners of his mouth turning up at the thought.
“Are you now?” she whispered as a torrent of emotions threatened to break through.
“Yeah, and I feel the happiness in my heart,” Sebastian mumbled, pressing his hand to his chest.
She smoothed his hair, then rested her hand on top of his. Within seconds, the boy drifted back to sleep. His chest rose and fell as his features relaxed, and she exhaled the heavy breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
What happened next?
What would she say to Raz?
And what about her dad? The man had broken her heart time and time again, but he was still her father. She watched Sebastian sleep, taking solace in the peacefulness when her dad’s voice cut through the quiet.
“You aren’t calling the police, are you, Mr. Cress?”
What was Raz doing?
“No, of course, not.”
“Then why did you take out your phone? I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to make any trouble.”
Anguish coated her dad’s words.
But it was a good question. What would Raz need his phone for?
“I’m sending a text, Mr. Lamb.”
A text?
“Now give me your phone, sir,” Raz directed, his tone curt but not cruel.
“Are you worried about pictures? Because I didn’t take any. I swear. You can look. I’ll show you right now.”
She wasn’t sure what was worse, her father’s deceptive ways or the gut-wrenching desperation in his voice.
“I’m not looking for pictures. I’m putting a note in your phone. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll call the number and do everything the man on the line tells you to do.”
“Who do you want me to call?” her father asked, his voice shaking.
“Just give the person your name, and he’ll handle the rest.”
“Mr. Cress?” her father blurted, his voice thick with emotion.
“Yes.”
“Tell Libby I’m sorry. I haven’t been the father she deserved. You see, I’ve burned a lot of bridges in my life, and I don’t have many options. Aurora, Libby’s mom, made me better. I know I’ve let her down. I know I’ve let everyone down, but I tried. I tried to do right by my kids.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears.
Did he know she could hear him?
Was that speech for her, or was that Connolly Lamb trying to save face and garner sympathy?
The truth is, she’d never know.
Still kneeling at Sebastian’s bedside, she focused on the aquamarine gemstone and timepiece on the side table when a memory flickered. It was an image of her mother outside the community center, slipping a stone similar to this one into her pocket.
Or maybe it wasn’t a stone.
It very well could have been her keys or a pack of gum. Her addled mind couldn’t focus. It couldn’t order the onslaught of emotions.
She released a shaky breath and listened.
And…nothing…until an engine turned over, and the grind of tires meeting gravel hung in the air, fading away.
Her father had left.
The front door slammed, and all she could hear now was the thump of Raz’s footsteps.
It was over.
She pressed a kiss to Sebastian’s forehead.
“Night, night, Mibby,” he mumbled, turning onto his side.
She rose to her feet. With her body trembling and her heart racing, she started down the stairs. But after three steps, she stopped, afraid her wobbly legs might turn to Jell-O. Holding the rail, she lowered herself onto the step and cradled her head in her hands when the blue-violet aura edged out the darkness. She touched the smooth plank of wood where Raz had sat a few weeks ago. They’d opened their hearts to each other here, sharing their shards of pain. But it was one thing for her to tell Raz about her father. It was a whole different story to experience the man in the flesh.
Why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t Connolly Lamb have been the father she and the twins had needed?
The stairs creaked, and she glanced up to find Raz coming toward her.
“I’m sorry about that. My dad must be desperate,” she said, staring at the floor. “He usually calls. It’s never a good sign when he shows up.”
“It’s not your fault, plum.”
She forced herself to look up. “I heard what you said to him.”
He nodded and sat down next to her. “I figured you did.”
“Who do you want him to call?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.” She watched him closely.
“It’s an opportunity to become a better version of himself.”
What did that mean?
She couldn’t work it out, not now, not with the cocktail of humiliation, exhaustion, and frustration surging through her veins. And that’s when the dam holding back the flood of pain and disappointment broke. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and she turned away from Raz just as he stood.
Was he leaving?
Was this too much for him, or perhaps he wanted to give her some privacy?
But he didn’t go anywhere.
Before she could wipe the salty tears from her cheeks, Raz lifted her into his arms and held her close.
“You don’t have to hide your tears from me, plum,” he said, carrying her into her bedroom.