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“Exactly.”
Slowly, he got to his feet and walked over to me. I watched him. Watched that prowl of his that was capable of setting me alight when he was coming toward me with a different reason in mind, and I remained quiet as he seated himself by my side. I didn’t say anything as he lifted his arm and curved it around my shoulders either.
Did it make me weak that I let him?
That I stayed there, huddled into his side, and took comfort from his supportive hold?
“Lena—” I whispered, needing him to carry on.
“Before your mom’s death, Aidan had a health scare. It terrified him enough that he had to confess his sins to Lena.”
“You?” I wheezed. “You’re his sin?”
He nodded, but I saw pain shift into being in his eyes.
I hurt for him, then. I loved him enough that I felt his pain as if it were my own.
Who else knew what it felt like to be a filthy little secret?
Who else could understand other than me?
We were both bastards. Both born outside of someone’s committed relationship.
I grabbed his hand, clasping it so hard that my fingers ached as I stared up at him, needing him to continue.
“Aidan told me this,” he grated out, “and he said that she was off her meds and she was whacked up. Couldn’t let it rest. He wouldn’t tell her who it was he’d had the affair with or who the kid was because he didn’t want to wreck the relationship I had with her.” He clenched his teeth. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”
My mouth trembled. “She thought Mom was his girlfriend? She thoughtIwas his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would she think that? What made her think we were his?”
“Michael, Lena’s guard, he’s with the ECD. We didn’t know that until recently. He’s the one who told her that your mom was Senior’s girlfriend. He pointed Lena at her.”
“Why? Why would he do that?”
He dragged out his phone again. “I got this on the way home. Conor sent it to me.”
“What is it?” I rasped, squinting at the screen when I saw an article in a newspaper. There was a picture of a woman, half her face on display—
My brain screeched to a halt.
I recognized those laughing eyes, the smile that lit up a room.
Mom.
It was Mom.
I had photos of her all around the apartment, but this was different.
She waslighter.
Happier.
My throat tightened with tears as I stared at that smile—incandescent. She was capable of such joy, and I’d forgotten that.
For a second, my vision blurred as memories drowned me. Memories of what had felt like a simpler time but, in reality, hadn’t been.
