Grey crept into the room, spying the gun, and lunged for it, but that fucking squeaky floorboard gave him away a second too soon.
Eric sprung from the bed and crashed into Grey, sending them both thudding to the floor. I saw a hand reach up for the gun. Whose I couldn't tell from my position but somehow in the struggle, it went flying over the side of the bed and clanged down on the hardwood.
Grey cried out and rolled into view on the floor beside the bed. Our eyes met before I saw the blood on his hand as he reached for the gun. Eric stood at the end of the bed, the knife in his hand covered with blood--Grey's blood.
"Guess playtime will have to be cut short." Eric grabbed my leg and yanked me off the bed.
My ass smacked down on the floor, sending a rattle through my spine. I was still virtually paralyzed, my head falling back to the floor as Eric dragged me toward the door. Darkness crept into the corners of my vision, threatening to overtake me. Just before the light disappeared entirely, I heard it.
Chapter 19
The beeping of my alarm pulled me from my nightmare. Except when I pried my eyes open, I wasn't in my room and the sound wasn't my alarm. I struggled to focus my vision as a figure appeared above me.
"Oh my God, Claudia!" Jessica yelled. "Nurse!"
"W-wa-water." My throat felt like sandpaper.
Jessica held a cup to my lips. Most of the water dripped down around my neck, but I was able to get a few sips of relief.
"Ms. Mason," the nurse said, appearing next to Jessica. "Do you know where you are?" She shone a light in one eye and then the other.
"Not specifically, but I'm going to make an educated guess and say this is a hospital," I replied sarcastically, my voice gravelly.
"Sarcasm is a good sign, Ms. Mason." The stout woman smiled. "You've suffered a pretty severe head injury, and you've had a lot of people worried sick, especially those friends of yours. They've been quite impatient."
I lifted my head, scanning the room while the nurse checked my vitals. "Where are they?" I asked, looking to Jessica.
"I'm afraid only immediate family is allowed back here. I'm going to fetch the doctor and have him give you a once-over. Now you're stable and awake, we can get you moved out of the ICU and your friends can visit you." The nurse patted my hand before she walked out.
Jessica took my hand, lifting it to her face, and pressed it against her cheek. "I was so scared," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek and over my hand. "I don't understand any of this. Why would that man attack you? If it wasn't for your friend, who knows what could have happened."
"I-I don't know," I lied, not knowing how to explain any of it to my sister who'd always been in the dark about the true nature of my business.
The image of Eric standing, his knife covered in blood flashed in my mind.
Grey.
I fought back the sobs that threatened to burst free.
"How long have I been here? Where is Izzy?" I asked, afraid to ask the one question that had been pressing on my mind since I opened my eyes.
"You've been here a few hours. She's with Shawn in the waiting area. Kids under twelve aren't allowed back here, and thank goodness for that."
"Ms. Mason, I'm glad to see you're awake," the doctor said, walking in as he flipped through what I presumed was my chart.
"I'm going to go check on Izzy and Shawn and let everyone know you're awake." Jessica squeezed my forearm before she walked out.
"The good news is your scans don't show any significant swelling or bleeding." The doctor continued, "But you did need a few stitches and you have a concussion, so we'd like to keep you overnight for observation, but I'm going to go ahead and move you downstairs to the general ward."
"What about my, um, what about Mr. Michaels?" I asked, my voice shaking despite my best efforts.
"I believe the young man you were brought in with is still in surgery, but I'll have the nurse check for you." He stopped scribbling on my chart to give me a sympathetic smile. "You were very lucky, Ms. Mason."
"I know," I whispered as he walked out.
❖
"Have you heard anything about Grey?" I asked as soon as Grace walked into my new room. "They just keep telling me he's still in surgery!" I couldn't fight the tears any longer.
She rushed over and wrapped her arms around me.
"Nothing yet. His family is out in the waiting area, too. His parents, Elsa, Gregory, Chad..." she replied, holding me tight as I sobbed. "Just let it out, girl. No one else is coming back here until you're ready."
"This is all my fault." My words were muffled in Grace's chest. "He's going to die because of me."
"It's not your fault, Claud. Eric Bennett was a fucking psycho, and he was going to snap eventually no matter what we did or didn't do."
I looked up at her.
"Was?"
"He died on the way to the hospital. The detective John talked to said Grey managed to get a shot off before he passed out. John and Gina are waiting out there. He feels awful Eric slipped by him somehow."
"John is here?"
"Claudia, everyone's here. The girls, Bobby, Jason, even--"
"Even who?"
"Your dad."
"Fucking Jessica. She just won't give up," I said, wiping my eyes.
"Actually, I called him," Grace said softly.
My eyes widened. "Why the fuck would you call him?" I said, my voice getting louder with each word.
"Because I love you, Claud, and you need to let go of the past if you want any chance at a future," she said, her eyes full of love I didn't want to see in that moment.
"You just don't understand," I whispered.
"I do understand. I know what your father did, and I know what it's like to be abandoned by someone who's supposed to be there for you no matter what. I hated my mother for a long time, but one day I realized hating her was hurting me more than anyone else."
I didn't have any words. Of course she understood how I felt, but I'd always been so consumed with my own hatred and fear I didn't really recognize how similar her pain must have been. Maybe it was because I knew if she'd found a way to move past it, I needed to as well.
"I'm not saying you have to talk to him yet, but letting him be here is a step. Do it for your sister and your niece. He's an important part of their lives and they're a part of yours. He's sick and I don't know what's going to happen, but I do know it's time to move on--for all of you. Life is too short for anything else."
Grace wiped away a tear, and something that'd been gnawing at me just under the surface sprang forward.
"Oh God, Alaina. Is she...?"
"She's alive, but it's been touch and go since they found her. They're not sure how she survived everything Eric did to her, but she managed to hold on. It was a miracle really, after being in a coma for over a week, she woke up long enough to tell the officer guarding her hospital room Eric was coming to Chicago for us before she passed out again."
I squeezed my eyes tight. Poor Alaina. I'd known something was off about Eric; I should have done something.
"I know what you're thinking, Claud." Grace gripped my hand. "You couldn't have known and there wasn't anything you could have done legally. I spoke to Patty and it sounds as if Eric must have tortured information about the agency out of Alaina before he broke into the car of one of Patty's employees and stole a laptop. He must have gotten my name and phone numbers from the files."
"Jesus, Grace, he told me you had a nice voice," I said, careful not to mention the rest of what he said. Grace didn't need to share in the nightmares I was sure to have for a long while.
"We can talk about all that later. Right now, there's something else I need to tell you." She sucked in her bottom lip and squeezed my hand. "About Jared, about why I didn't bring him around much before. I was nervous about him finding about what we do but more than that, I was worried about you all finding out what he does."
"You told me he works security," I said, feeling lines form on my foreh
ead.
"He does, but that's just a part-time gig. He's a cop. A detective, actually. I'm sorry I hid it from you, but I really liked him and I thought you'd be pissed I was risking exposing us for a man," she blurted in one breath.
"What right do I have to be pissed at you for following your heart? I was basically doing the same thing, probably worse." Thinking over the risks I'd taken for Grey, my heart tightened as I fought the urge to cry again.
"I'm glad you feel that way because it turns out we're really lucky he's a detective. I called him when we were trying to get ahold of you and he was the first on scene at our apartment, so he's the lead detective on this case."
"Jesus."
"Yeah, he's going to do everything he can to keep our business out of all of this. You'll need to give him a statement, but he's going to talk to you off the record first," she said, inclining her head toward me and widening her eyes. I nodded in understanding. "I know everyone's eager to see you. Do you feel up to talking to him now?"
"Actually, I'm really tired. Do you think we can hold off for a couple of hours so I can rest?" I asked, leaning back onto the bed.
"Sure, whatever you want. Just let the nurse know when you're ready," she said, touching my hand before she left.
While I was exhausted, my need for alone time had more to do with my inability to control the hurricane of emotions blowing around my mind. It was all too much and the only escape was sleep.
❖
"I'll give him five minutes," I told Jessica. "Don't ask for more than that. It's all I can promise."
She nodded and shot out of the room; no doubt worried I would change my mind. Hearing Grey was out of surgery and stable put me in a generous mood. He might have turned out to be like all the rest, but I had the unfortunate experience of learning firsthand why so many wives gave their cheating husband's chance after chance. Despite how Grey hurt me--how part of my heart burned with hatred for what he'd done--I still loved him.
And there was the little matter of him saving my life and getting himself stabbed in the process.
I could barely breathe. After all those years, I was going to face my father. Although looking around my hospital room, the scenario wasn't anything like I'd imagined it would be.
I supposed that was a step: acknowledging there'd been times over the years when I thought about him, wondering if and when I would see my father again.
I didn't notice it when I saw him in Jessica's yard just a few weeks before. I was too angry to really look at him, but when he walked into my hospital room, it was obvious. He was still handsome, very much the man I remembered from when I was a girl, but his face was drawn, his skin paler, and his walk was slow and deliberate, like a person in pain.
"Hello, sweetheart," he said quietly as he pulled a chair close to my bed. "I'm so glad you're all right and you agreed to see me. It's been far too long."
He reached for my hand, which I snatched away as if his was on fire.
"Sorry," he whispered, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a plain white envelope.
"I know I made a lot of mistakes all those years ago, unforgivable mistakes, Claudia, but I was so hurt the pain of what happened made me blind."
My eyebrows furrowed. He was hurt? He drove my mother to kill herself and he was hurt? I wanted to scream, to slap him again, but I remembered what Grace said. I needed to let go, but it seemed like an impossible feat.
"I know you don't understand. I should have told you back then, but I--" He put his fist to his lip, fighting back the tears welling in his eyes.
"You should have told me what?"
"Teresa was gone and you two were so close. I didn't want to take any of that away from you, so I kept her secrets."
What the hell was he talking about? We were close and Mom told me everything. She didn't have secrets from me.
"This was a mistake," I said, searching around my bed for the call button.
"Claudia, please, just a few more minutes."
Even after fifteen years of hating him, I couldn't help feeling the pain in his voice. He seemed so fragile compared to the man who'd been a superhero in my eyes for so long. I let out a heavy sigh and folded my hands on my legs.
"Fine."
His expression washed over with relief before he continued.
"In the years before you were born, Teresa would have these mood swings, which were fairly mild as far as I could tell, but I was gone a lot for work. I knew she was lonely, but I was an ambitious young man, and I thought all the money I was making would soothe her in my absence.
I had no idea what she was really going through. When you were a few months old, your mother's mood swings got worse. She would stay in bed for days at a time and then suddenly be on top of the world, taking you all over the city and showing you off to our friends and family. It was easy for her to hide it from me those first couple of years with me traveling so much but when I was promoted, I stayed home a lot more and I could see something was wrong."
I found myself remembering the unpredictable mood swings Mom would have, which were part of Jessica's reasoning in living with Dad after the divorce.
"You were almost three when she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She wanted to get better for you. She got treatment, took her medication religiously. You were the center of her life, of our lives. Things got so much easier it was easy for me to forget Teresa's condition. She managed it so well up until she got pregnant with Jessica. The doctors recommend she stay on her medication. That the risks of going off it were greater than the risks to the baby, but your mother wasn't having it. Those months were hard and her symptoms were worse than I'd ever seen, but we got through it.
Jessica came and she started taking her meds again. Things went back to normal; we were happy."
"How could I not have known?" I swiped at my tears.
"She didn't want anyone to know. I don't think I wanted anyone to know. It was easier for me to be able to ignore it. I was selfish. I wanted my perfect family and my perfect life. So much so, I failed to realize just how alone she'd been when we were first married."
He placed the envelope he'd been holding next to me on the bed. My name was on it. I recognized the handwriting and broke down again.
"This came a week after your mother passed away," he said quietly, a single tear falling from his eye. "She wrote me as well, saying it was my decision if and when to give this to you. I think it was her way of trying to make amends with me."
"Why, why would she want to make amends with you? You left us; you cheated on her even though you knew she was sick!"
"I did leave, but I never cheated on your mother."
He ran a weathered hand through his mostly silver head of hair. "I'm sure you remember the summer you tore your ACL right after we got back from Italy and had to have surgery."
I nodded. How could I forget? The trip was amazing, but my injury kicked off what turned into the worst year of my life.
"A few days after, I was filing your paperwork and saw your blood-type. You're A positive."
"So what," I said, not knowing why he was bringing up my blood-type of all things.
"I'm O positive, and so was your mother," he continued as if that was supposed to mean something to me. "And so is your sister."
"What are you saying?" I said as understanding started settling in.
"I'm not your biological father."
It wasn't possible. She would have told me, and my mother never would have cheated on my father. She was so in love with him. She would have followed him over a cliff if he asked her to. That's why I hated him so much for leaving. She wouldn't live without him. She couldn't.
I shook my head. It couldn't be true. There had to be another explanation. As if he'd read my thoughts, Robert pulled something else out from the inside pocket of his jacket. The piece of paper was worn, as if it'd been handled a million times. He opened it and laid it next to the envelope.
Paternity results.
It was true
.
"Walking away was the biggest mistake I've ever made, but my heart was shattered. At the time, I didn't think I could forgive her. I didn't even consider her illness was a factor. The day you were born changed me, made me a father and seeing these results, I felt as though your mother had stolen that from me. It wasn't until later, when it was too late, I realized how wrong I was."
I'd been so blind, so angry at him for so many years when it was Mom who'd betrayed our family.
"Being a father isn't about blood; it's about showing up, about being there. I will never forgive myself for walking away from you and your mother. She was sick and she was lonely, which was my fault. I failed to see how much she needed me. Her mistake was mine as well, but I let my pride push me away from you both. I will take that regret to my grave, very likely sooner rather than later."
"Why, why didn't you tell me right away?" I asked, my voice shook.
"You loved your mother so much. You'd already lost her and I didn't want to take anything else from you."
"You took yourself from me! I loved you, too, and you left me," I whimpered, my sobs starting anew.
My mother's behavior in the months after he left made so much more sense once I knew the truth.
"Oh, sweetheart," he said, standing and taking my hand. "I'm so sorry. I will never forgive myself for walking away from you. I felt so guilty after your mother was gone, and I knew you blamed me. I just couldn't face you at first. You were so angry and it...it was my fault. I should have known what my leaving would do to her, I just didn't, I--"
I pulled him to me and wrapped my arms around my father for the first time in fifteen years. We both cried for all we'd lost.
Chapter 20
When my father left, we promised to see each other the following week. Fifteen years was a long time, and there was a lot of pain between us, but we both needed to let go of the past and move forward. I slipped the envelope he gave me into my bag. The final letter from my mother apparently revealed the identity of my biological father and I imagined a lot more my mom wanted to say to me in her final hours.
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