Page 148 of Discretion at Its Finest

But I couldn’t sleep. Reid held me, caressed me as I cried, hoping I’d get some rest for how bad of a headache I was getting from all the tears.

But eventually his breathing deepened, steady and slow as he fell asleep, and I slipped out from under his arm, needing air, space, needing… I didn’t know what.

The hallway was silent, the whole estate asleep for the night.

Except there was light, a gentle glare refracting onto the staircase from the kitchen.

I padded down the stairs slowly, bare feet cold against marble. The Christmas tree glowed in the corner, ornaments catchingthe light in muted reflections. The house felt too calm and still after the storm that raged in it only hours ago.

I rounded the corner into the kitchen, following the light.

And stopped.

Eugene stood at the island, shoulders hunched, leaning over the marble, a glass of whiskey dangling from his hand. His other hand was pressed to his head, fingers curled tight in his hair, trying to hold himself together by force.

His back rose and fell unevenly.He’d been crying too.

My heart broke so cleanly it felt like something inside me cracked open.

He didn’t turn at the sound of my steps, and my lips parted gently, my throat tight as I took a step closer.

“…Hi, Lovebug.”

My voice came out soft, and his head snapped up and over to me. He looked at me as if I’d personally offended him, like my words had physically hurt him to hear.

His eyes were red, swollen. Knowing my boy, I knew he’d tried to rub at them too hard, attempting to force the tears away.

The glass clinked gently against the counter as he set it down, fingers trembling before he curled them into a fist. “Don’t,” he seethed. “You don’t get to call me that.”

I nodded gently, ignoring the feeling of my heart being ripped from my chest. “You’re right. I don’t.”

He turned away from me, raising the glass back to his lips. After his sip, he shook his head, lowering it as he toyed with the rim of the glass.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

My eyes burned. “Killian offered us to stay the night… We’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

He didn’t say anything to that. His eyes fixed on his glass, body language firmly against my being there. The clock on the mantle ticked as we stood there. I kept on thinking of what to say, keptsearching for the right words, terrified of the wrong ones. But eventually, I found the strength to fill the silence again.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I began, voice cracking as I forced my composure. “I’m not here to force anything or to—”

“I waited,” he said, cutting me off, flexing his hand before it clenched once again. “Waited for you—every day, for years—to come back home. You never came.” A tear slid down his cheek. He didn’t bother to wipe it. “…We were your kids…I was your kid,” he whispered. “And I needed you.”

“I know,” I whispered, nodding.

“I’m not my sister. And you’re not my mother. I don’t want your apology,” he said. “I don’t want your explanations. I don’t want your reasons for why you left.”

“If you don’t want them, I can’t force you to listen to them.”

He placed his glass on the table, shoulders shaking as he took a deep sigh. “You know… I spent years thinking… maybe you couldn’t find us. Maybe Gregory and Cheryl really did keep you away. Maybe you were hurt. Or maybe you died trying… That would’ve been easier on all of us.” A hollow laugh slipped out, short and bitter. “Turns out you were just living your life.”

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Every birthday,” he said quietly. “Every Christmas. Every time I got in trouble at school… every time I woke up from a nightmare—” His breath stuttered. “I kept waiting for you to walk through the door.”

He let out a bitter scoff. “And when you found Brielle… when you finally called me… I thought—” His face twisted. “I thought maybe this whole time there was a reason. A good one.”

“There was,” I whispered, barely audible.

He narrowed his eyes. “But why wasn’t it us?”