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Brent was at my side instantly, griping my elbow, and pulling me away from the house. I gaped at him. How did he get here so quickly?
“Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here? I’ve been freaking out, Claire,” he seethed, releasing my arm, his frigid glare freezing me in place while he waited for me to answer.
His words were like ice-water through my veins, running cold and slow. I wanted to speak, but I was still trying to figure out how he got there before me. I was confused but finally managed a sentence. “I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t let me come,” I admitted, folding my hands together, rocking back on my heels.
“You’re damn right I wouldn’t have.” His voice broke when he said it. I felt how angry he was, not because I left without him, but rather it was my lack of trust that hurt him.
“Claire, you need to understand that it causes me physical pain to be away from you. It makes me weak. I need you close to me. Don’t ever leave me again,” he pleaded, blue eyes boring into me, increasing my guilt.
I was irritated with his harsh words. He was being a little dramatic, but I did feel responsible.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I’m here now, and I need to find Reese. He’s hurting, Brent, and I am afraid for him. I just need to know if he’s inside, and if he’s okay.”
Brent gave in, aware of the desperation in my voice.
“Five minutes, Claire! That’s it. I mean it. I’ll carry you out of that house if I have to. Five minutes,” he reiterated.
Remembering how effortlessly he tossed me over his shoulder at the beach, I knew he was serious. The memory made me smile. “Okay,” I agreed.
When we reached the farmers porch, Brent stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Go ahead, I’ll wait right here. Five minutes,” he reminded me, leaning against the post, his jaw set firm, still angry with me.
“Five minutes,” I assured him, and then whispered, “thank you.”
I took the steps up to the door, and started to knock, when I noticed it was ajar. Pushing it open, I entered a mud room with shoes and jackets strewn about. There was another door to the side opened a crack, and I heard Reese inside.
Thank God.
Approaching the second door, I froze when I heard Reese’s dad speak. “Reese, don’t be mad at your mother. I knew, son. I’ve always known.” His dad was spewing forth a confession and I leaned in closer, listening for Reese’s reaction.
After a long pause, I heard Reese. “What, you knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t my secret to tell, son. I married your mother knowing that you weren’t mine because I loved her, like I’ve never loved anyone,” Reese’s dad explained.
I listened, careful not to make any noise as he continued filling Reese in.
“At the time, I didn’t know who your father was. I didn’t care. When you were born, I had my suspicions about Wes. Your mother looked at him like they shared a secret. I knew it was a look you expected to see, when a woman looked at the father of her child.”
There was a long pause.
“It wasn’t a look she gave me. I recognized how nervous she was around him, and chose to ignore it. Your mother admitting who your father was wouldn’t have changed how I felt about either one of you. After I discovered your connection to Claire, I was certain I had it all figured out. It all added up,” he concluded. I quietly moved closer, stopping just short of putting my ear to the door.
Both of them came into view. Knowing the two of them were not related, I was surprised by how much Reese actually looked like Mr. Phillips, his dad. They shared the same sandy blonde hair and their build was similar. It was no wonder Reese never had any doubts this man was his father.
Reese was pacing the floor methodically.
“God Dad, you didn’t say anything then. She’s my sister. What if we had ended up together? That’s disgusting. You should have told me,” he gagged, stopping abruptly, staring at his father.
Mr. Phillip’s was looking down, probably trying to find the best way to appease his son.
“Maybe I should h
ave, but I knew if seals came together in the way we were told, Claire would reject you physically. I told your Mom I knew, and I didn’t want us to interfere. It would have ruined your mother’s life. I refused to let that happen.” He spoke to Reese so tenderly. It broke my heart knowing their relationship would never be the same.
Reese threw his hands up. “Who cares about her, dad? She cheated on you,” he argued, sitting down in a chair at the table. It looked as though they were in the kitchen.
I watched his father pacing, just as Reese had, the mannerisms so similar.
“Reese, we were really young. We were dating but we weren’t committed to each other. I saw other people as well,” he admitted, begging his son to understand.
