Page 150 of Discretion at Its Finest

I couldn’t move.

His fingers curled weakly into the robe I was wearing, and then he folded into me, his face burying into my neck the way it did when he was three years old and the world scared him.

My arms wrapped around him before I could think as his tears soaked my skin.

“Lovebug…” I whispered into his hair, voice shaking, cradling the back of his head like I used to when nightmares woke him. “My sweet boy… I’m so sorry…”

He clung to me tighter. I held him until the shaking stopped and his breath steadied against my skin. Soon enough, the little boy I lost and the man he’d become settled into one trembling, silent weight in my arms.

I didn’t ask him to forgive me.

I wouldn’t dare.

I just let him break against me… the way he should have been allowed to all those years ago.

Chapter fifty-seven

Reid

Genevieve had only been gone maybe five minutes before I registered I was alone in bed without her. I followed the faint light, down the quiet hallway, ready to drag her back to bed, hold her steady through the rest of the night.

But when I reached the kitchen—

I stopped, gazing at the sight before me with caution.

Her son…our son, Eugene, was folded into her arms.

His face buried in her neck, shoulders shaking, fists curled into the fabric of her robe like a child afraid someone might pull him away.

And Genevieve—

She held him like he was still three years old and she’d been waiting her entire life to hold him again. Her hand cradled the back of his head, fingers in his hair, whispering something that broke him, and broke me even more.

“Lovebug,” she murmured, voice soft enough to undo a man. “My sweet boy… I’m right here. Mom’s right here.”

I leaned against the door frame, watching silently. I had no right to step into that moment. They needed this alone. Theyears they both lost, the pain they both carried, finally colliding into something fragile. So sacred and human.

I’d imagined this for years.

Imagined what it would look like if she ever got him back.

If he ever let her.

But I never imagined I’d see it first-hand.

I stepped back, turning away as I headed back to the guest room. If he turned and saw me, he’d run, close himself off again before he could get hurt.

So I let him have his time with her. Let them both have this moment that should’ve belonged to them years ago.

And for the first time since learning he was mine—

I grieved the time we lost, the years stolen from all of us.

But I also felt something else build inside of me, something fierce and possessive. Because no matter how broken, no matter how fragmented this family was… it was still my family—my little girl to hold, my son to protect, my wife to love—and I wasn’t going to let us break again.

The morning in the Russel estate on Christmas Day smelled like cinnamon, coffee and a peace I didn’t quite trust yet.

I stood at the kitchen counter, pouring myself a cup of black coffee that Benjamin had offered, watching the early morning light spill over the marble. The estate was filled with a gentle quiet, family members filing in slowly, taking places at the dining room table as they greeted one another.