by Geneva Lee
“Don't leave.”
I hear what she's really saying: don't abandon me. Don't walk out the door and disappear. Don't leave again.
I want to give Adair everything she deserves, but I can't stay. Not today. I gently pry her fingers off my arms and step away. I can't explain it to her. Not yet. An hour ago, Adair MacLaine was the most important person in the world to me.
She can't be anymore.
“I love you,” I repeat as if saying it can numb the pain of what comes next for either of us. But I feel the anguish anyway, stretching taut between us with each step I take away from her—from the life I'd let myself imagine, from the life I'd decided to fight for, from the life that's no longer possible. I can only hope that whatever comes next doesn't break this thread that connects her to me. I have to believe that on the other side of this battle, there's something better waiting—for all three of us.
As soon as the door closes behind me, I remember that my car is blocks away. My hand pauses mid-knock. I can't go back yet. I can't risk facing her, even if it's only to ask for her car keys. Instead, I walk down the hall and pound on Luca's door.
“Be home, be home, be home,” I mutter, continuing to bang on the suite.
Muffled cursing comes from the other side, but I don't stop knocking. The door flies open. “What in the actual fuck?” he growls. Instantly, his expression turns from annoyance to confusion. “What's up, brother? Christ, I thought housekeeping had gone feral. Come in.”
I don't move, except to hold out my hand. “I need your car.”
“You need...what?” Luca scratches his head. “Why? Where's yours?”
“It's a long story, and this is an emergency.”
He knows I'm not asking. Luca steps to the side. “Let me grab my keys.”
I step into the threshold, mentally counting each second it takes for him to cross the room. The keys are lying next to the disassembled pieces of a Glock and a cleaning cloth. That's when I remember I left my holster and 9mm in Adair's suite.
Luca grabs the keys and tosses them, they arc through the air and land in my palm. “Do you want me to call it around?”
I shake my head. I'm not waiting for a valet, even if my friend's VIP status probably jumps him to the head of the line. “I know where they park them.”
“What about back-up?” Luca asks as I turn to go. “Two might be better than one in an emergency.”
Not this emergency, I think to myself. I can't drag anyone else into this. I shake my head and my eyes fall on the pieces of his gun. “I need to do this alone, but if you don't mind, I could use a piece.”
Luca slides the pieces of his weapon together with a precision that can only come from being the bastard child of an elite military unit and a criminal fixer. He carries it to me and holds it out. “You know what you're doing?”
“Nope,” I admit. Taking it, I tuck it securely in my waistband and loosen my shirt to cover it. “But I'll figure it out.”
It's easier than it should be to get Luca's car out of the Eaton's valet parking lot. Getting out of Nashville at this hour less so. I can't unleash the BMW's twin-turbo V8 until I reach the interstate. Even then, I'm forced to weave through people heading to the suburbs at the end of day, making it impossible to floor it. I barely get the coupe over one-hundred miles per hour before I reach the Valmont exit.
“Name?” A new guard asks at the gate to Windfall.
This isn’t going to end well. “Sterling Ford.”
My hand slips from the steering wheel to the 9mm tucked into my waistband. Given the last time I visited the MacLaine estate I threatened to burn it down, I doubt I’m still on the approved list. That doesn’t leave me many options.
The guard wanders back over to the window and leans down. There’s a name badge pinned to his khaki shirt that says Ken. “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to let you in,” he says. “In fact, my information tells me to call the house if you swing by.”
My fingertips graze the grip of my gun, the metal is warm from being against my body during the drive. Part of knowing how to handle a road block is not over-reacting. A knee jerk reaction will only result in disaster. Pulling a gun will only make Ken panic, and a panicked Ken will probably wind up a dead Ken. That’s not why I came here today. In fact, it’s counter-productive. The last thing I want is to leave Tennessee until this matter is settled.
“Typical,” I say with a shake of the head, putting my hand back on the steering wheel. “Does Malcolm MacLaine treat all of his sister’s boyfriends this way? He’s such a dick.”
“Honestly?” Ken scratches his ear and smiles. “I haven’t been working here long enough to know, but, um, yeah. He’s definitely a dick.”
Never underestimate the power of finding common ground with someone. There’s no easier path to making an ally than finding a common enemy. Or, at least, a pain in the ass. Now that I’ve got Ken on my side, I have to hope my next move doesn’t blow up in my face. “Look, I know Adair and he had a fight. What’s new? But she arranged for me to swing by and pick up some stuff.”
“I wish I could…” He looks nervously over at the gate like he’s really weighing his options. “Maybe if you came back with Miss MacLaine?”
“It’s best we keep the two of them apart until they’ve both cooled off. Trust me. You don’t want to stoke a MacLaine temper.” Adair is the last person I want here. I don’t know how she’ll react when she finds out I came. I don’t know if she’ll try to intervene, but nothing is going to stand in my way. Not today. Still, I’d rather not have to kill Ken. “Can you call Felix? He knows all about this. Just tell him Sterling came by for Adair.”
Ken chews on his lips before shrugging. “Why not? I mean, he practically owns the place.”
He’s trudging back to the guardhouse before I can ask him what that means. Felix practically owns the place? Since when? Adair told me that her father’s will was surprising, but it can’t have been that generous. I’m still contemplating the offhand remark when the gate opens.
“You’re good,” Ken calls, waving me through.
My foot stays on the brake pedal. “What did you mean about Felix owning the place?”
“I guess when the old man kicked it, he didn’t leave the place to his kids,” my new friend tells me.
“He left it to Felix?” That doesn’t make sense.
“Nah. He’s in charge of the trust or something until the grandkid is old enough. She gets it all. At least, that’s what my buddy told me.”
“Wow.” I force myself to shrug this off like it’s not a bombshell. “Good luck, man.”
“You, too,” he calls as I put the BMW into drive.
Driving toward Windfall feels different this time. I can’t see it the same way, but I’m not sure what to do with all this new information. So, Angus MacLaine stuck it to his kids one final time? I’m not surprised about that. I don’t doubt his intentions there at all. He didn’t leave Windfall to his granddaughter to take care of her or because he loved her. Maybe he told himself that’s why he did it, but there wasn’t a soft bone in that man’s body for anyone, even his own daughter. If he left his estate to Ellie, he did it as one final show of disappointment in both his children. I don’t know what Malcolm did to earn his disapproval. In my experience, it never took much to get on the patriarch’s bad side.
But Angus MacLaine’s motives dissolve from my mind as I pull around to the back of the house. I shut off the engine and draw out the gun. After staring at it for a moment, I reach over and shove it in the glove box on top of the fresh-from-the-dealership manual. I’m not here to start a war. Not yet.
My feet feel heavy as I walk toward the back door. It’s as if my body isn’t sure it wants me to take this any further. If only it could be that simple. Each step closer sends my heart pounding, blood pumping through my veins so hard that it pounds in my ears. Part of me wants to turn around and leave. Part of me knows that’s what’s best for her—for both of them. But I’m tired of being root
less. I’d made a decision about Adair and the future. I don’t know what her secret means for that. I don’t know what it means for me. But even as part of me feels tugged in the opposite direction, there’s something stronger driving me forward. It doesn’t care about my heavy feet or my racing heart or how I wound up here, it only cares about one thing.
The door swings open before I reach it and Felix studies me, wiping his hands on his apron before planting them on his hips. He’s never been my biggest fan. In truth, he doesn’t really know me. Despite everything Adair and I went through all those years ago, there’s so much of her life she closed off to me. I used to think it was because she was ashamed of me. Now I know that it’s her instinct: hide, protect, don’t rock the boat. Felix knows that. It’s why he let me through that gate.
“Adair’s things are in storage. She already took everything earlier,” he informs me, “but I suspect you know that.”
“I do.” Lying won’t get me anywhere with him, and now, more than ever, I need him on my side. “I need to see her.”
“See...her?” Felix tilts his head, a confused wrinkle deepening between his eyebrows. His mouth opens, and for a split second, I wonder if I’m wrong—if he doesn’t know. But before he speaks, his jaw drops, and he stares at me. “You know?”
“I do now.” A painful ache swells in my throat, and I swallow hard. The ache only builds until it’s as powerful as the pounding in my chest.
He only stares, and it’s in that moment that I realize there’s a reason that Adair said the father was unknown on that document. No one knows—not for certain—except she and I.
I have to make him understand.
“I just need to see her.” I take another step toward the door but he blocks it.
“I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” Felix says evenly. “Her parents…”
He trails away as I double over, shoulders beginning to shake. There’s too much. Too much blood pounding in my body. Too strong a force dragging me forward. My heart is beating too fast, as though it’s struggling to keep beating with the gaping hole at its core. “You don’t understand.” I force my eyes up, and for the first time in years, I don’t hide my tears. “I have to see her. I didn’t know.”
“You…” Felix hesitates before moving aside to let me into the kitchen. “I’m afraid things are quite complicated.”
It takes every ounce of strength I possess to straighten up and cross the threshold.
“What did Adair tell you?” he asks.
I shake my head. I don’t know how to explain the truth—that she didn’t tell me anything. That I’m the unknown in the box on a faded decree of legal guardianship.
“I just…” It’s hard to speak. Until this moment the worst moment of my life was on a snowy night in New York, watching a kind woman lead my sister out of the room. I’d failed Sutton so many times, and I’d tricked myself into believing I’d made up for those mistakes—that I’d become a man.
But now I see I’ve been a boy playing the part, talking a big game, and missing the point. Any boy can get a girl pregnant.
But a man doesn’t abandon his child. A man doesn’t walk away from the woman he loves. A man stays. A man protects. And it takes a man to be a father.
“I didn’t know.” I repeat it like the words can absolve me of my sin. “If I had…”
I expect Felix to laugh at me. To mock me. To lecture me. I deserve it. I deserve much, much worse. Instead, he crosses to me and does the last thing I expect. He hugs me.
The last levee breaks and it floods out of me: the pain, the anger, the hatred. I’ve been holding it inside for years, letting it power me, but, more importantly, letting it hide the ugliness that can’t be directed outward. The weakness. The inadequacy. The shame. I thought I could make myself a man by locking away the homeless boy, the scholarship kid, the dishonored soldier. But the only chance I ever had at becoming a man—a real man—has been right here all along.
And that’s when I finally understand why I had to come—why it couldn’t wait.
“I just need to know she’s okay.” I step back and square my shoulders.
Felix considers this. “And that’s all you came here for?”
“Yes,” I say, “for now.”
“Is that a threat?” he asks, his face unreadable.
“No. It’s a promise. There are things I don’t know.” I swallow, wondering how painful it will be to face the truth and knowing I have no choice. Not anymore. “I just need to know my daughter is safe.”
“Of course she’s safe.”
I can’t help feeling like a mouse trapped by a cat who wants to play with it for a while before deciding whether to eat it or not. Felix holds all the cards. He knows it. The whole family knows it. “I know you’re taking care of her. I’ve seen you with her. That night here.” For some reason the memory of sharing hot chocolate with Ellie tugs at my lips, but I refuse to smile. I can’t risk allowing the memories to bombard me. “I won’t say anything to her. I just need to see her. Please.”
“I’m trusting your word on that. Ellie is fragile since her au...since Adair left. She needs stability, not more adults using her,” he says. “Adair has always looked out for her—as best as she could. Her family hasn’t made that easy for her.”
“But Ellie doesn’t know?” Is it so bad here that without Adair around, only Felix notices her?
“A child always knows,” he says meaningfully. “So let me ask you one more time, is this all you came for?”
I don’t know what answer Felix is looking for, but I know one thing. I promised Adair I was all in. I didn’t know then how much more that promise would demand of me, but somehow I not only know that I’m all in, I know that I have no other choice. “For now.”
“Wait here.” Felix disappears from the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts.
There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t know why Adair did it. I don’t know why she hid things from me—from the world. I don’t know who else knows, but I suspect no one outside the MacLaine family. But despite all of that, I know her better than I ever have before.
I know why Adair MacLaine stayed in Valmont.
I know why she put up with her father and her brother.
I know why she gave up every dream she ever had.
I know why, after all these years, I came back to find her heart still broken.
Because she’s had a walking reminder of what we lost when we gave up on each other—and I know now that Adair MacLaine never gave up on me. She never stopped loving me, and she sacrificed herself to protect the last unbroken piece of our love.
“Where are we going?” a small voice floats into the kitchen from the hall.
My knees threaten to buckle, but I remember what Felix said. She needs stability. I can give her that much for now. Maybe it will be enough.
He rounds the corner, and then she comes into view.
And she is her mother and she is me.
She is everything.
Her coppery hair is plaited into braids, and when she turns an appraising look up at me, I see my eyes staring back at me. “You again? Auntie Dair isn’t here. Neither is my dad.”
But I’m right here. I want to say it. I want to throw her over my shoulder and take her away from this place before it can hurt her like it did Adair. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to stop myself from doing it. My eyes flicker to Felix. He’s watching me carefully. Does he know what I’m thinking?
Would he stop me?
“Me again,” I say, my mouth going dry. I clear my throat. “I actually popped by to check on you—for your aunt.”
“Okay.” This seems to satisfy her. She shifts to look at Felix. “Are there cookies?”
“What do you think?” he asks.
“We have a guest,” she says seriously. “We should probably be hospital.”
“Yes, we should be hospitable,” Felix corrects her gently.
“Yes, hospital,” she says stubbornly, a
nd in that moment, I know that I’m not in love with the idea of her—of a family. I just love her. In a way, it’s like she’s always been there. No conditions. No fears. No walls. She has all of me.
“Shall we?” I flinch at how my voice cracks, but my little hostess doesn’t notice.
She climbs onto a barstool and I join her. “Felix makes the best cookies.”
“I’ve had them,” I admit to her.
“Was your heart broken?” Her eyes are blue saucers and she reaches for my hand. “Felix says these cookies cure heartbreak and hang-somethings.”
I fight a smile at the same time my whole body soaks up the feeling of her tiny soft hand on the back of mine. “Something like that.”
“Felix made me these cookies because my heart is broken,” she confides.
I resist the urge to carry her off again. “Who broke your heart?”
“Auntie Dair. She left,” Ellie says sadly. “Dad made her. He called her a no-word.”
“A no-word?”
“You can’t say no-words or you get in trouble,” she tells me. She peeks over to see if Felix is listening. “I don’t think Auntie Dair is a no-word.”
“Me either,” I agree. I realize now that every reason I had before to hate Malcolm MacLaine was immature, at best, and shallow, at worst. I know because the hate I feel now is pure, molten. It comes from some primitive, previously untapped source. The same force fueling my desire to pick up Ellie and take her away from Windfall forever.
Felix places a plate of cookies in front of us followed by two glasses of milk.
“Thank you,” Ellie chirps, instantly cheered up. She picks up a cookie as big as her tiny hand, but instead of eating it she holds it out to me. “For you.”
“Thank you.” I take it, unsure how I’ll manage to swallow a single bite with the lump in my throat.
Felix takes off his apron and folds it up. “I need to check on some matters upstairs,” he says, placing it on the counter. “There’s more milk in the fridge. Ellie come and find me when you’re finished with your snack. Mr. Ford, help yourself to the cookies.”