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Catherine yanked away and turned around. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I’m going home.”
“Don’t go, not like this. Please, sweetheart, talk to me.”
“The worst part of it is, I actually thought you cared.”
Dean felt as if someone were ripping his heart out with their bare hands. He needed her to know how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. He’d screwed up royally and he had no way to fix it.
“Catherine, I do care,” he said, urging her to hear him. “I love you. Please, if you believe nothing else, then at least believe that.”
She turned back to him. “The games are over. We’ve had our fun, but it’s time for me to go home,” Catherine stated in a voice so devoid of emotion that Dean barely recognized it as the same woman who’d not so many hours ago declared her love for him.
He stepped into the doorway to block her exit, unwilling to let it end this way. “Give me a chance,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s all I ask.”
“You hurt me, Dean,” she replied as she looked down at the floor. “You promised you wouldn’t, but you did.” He started to speak, but Catherine looked back up and their gazes caught. “I know your reasons,” she said, her voice softening a fraction.
“Linda’s betrayal tore you up, and I get that. I even understand your need to have me investigated. I was practically a stranger when I came here, and you were protecting your family.” She swiped at the tears on her face and muttered, “But none of that explains why you didn’t share that information with me the minute you received it.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. The pain in her eyes was killing him. “I wanted the night with you,” he said in a gentle tone. “It was selfish, I know, but I wanted our last night together to be perfect. I swear, I planned to tell you everything.”
Catherine frowned. “I need time to think. Please, don’t stop me, Dean. I feel like I’m shattering here,” she said, her voice trembling. “Please.”
Dean had the sinking feeling that if Catherine left now, she’d be leaving for good. But he couldn’t stand to see her in pain either. Besides, it didn’t matter where she went, he would find her. She was his heart, and he would do anything to keep her.
Dean stepped out of the way and watched as she gathered her coat and purse, then walked out his front door. For what seemed like hours, Dean stood there, staring, willing her to come back. It didn’t happen. She was gone. He didn’t know if she would forgive him, but he was willing to give her a little time. And if she didn’t come back to him, then he would go to her, because there was no way he could live without her.
When Catherine got in her rental car her hands were shaking and she felt like she was about to break into a million pieces. She started the car and took off down the road, not really caring where she went. Dean had investigated her behind her back? And the information he’d discovered; Catherine still couldn’t comprehend it. She wanted to throw up when she thought of what her mother had endured. Her and Gracie’s mother, she reminded herself. Did Gracie know about this? She didn’t think so.
God, no wonder her mother had given her away. What woman would want the constant reminder of such a horrific event? The knowledge that she was the product of something so cruel sent a wave of nausea through her. She frowned, wondering if her adoptive parents had known how she’d been conceived. It would explain why they hadn’t wanted to tell her she was adopted. They had to suspect that she would one day be curious enough to seek out her biological parents. She supposed she had Dean to thank for saving her the trouble, she thought bitterly.
Catherine turned a corner and realized she was heading straight for Gracie’s house. When their place came into view she slowed and parked along the curb directly in front. She turned off the engine and got out. Gracie met her at the door, her eyes filled with tears and her face ashen. Catherine knew in an instant that Gracie knew everything.
When she walked up the front walk, Gracie pulled her into her arms for a hug. Catherine lost it. She cried herself dry. Several minutes later she found herself on the couch, Wade on one side, Gracie on the other. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she blew her nose. “I don’t usually cry like that.”
“You had good reason,” Wade said. “I just talked to Dean. He was worried about you.”
Catherine frowned at the knowledge that he’d called looking for her. God, she loved him, but knowing that he’d dug into her life behind her back still made her feel betrayed. “He needn’t be. I’m fine.”
Gracie patted her on the hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not even sure where to start. I-I just can’t take it all in.”
“Me either. I feel awful for thinking such rotten thoughts about our mother all these years.” Gracie shook her head. “What she went through, it must have been horrible.”
“And to top it all off, she ended up pregnant as a result.” Catherine felt sick. “My father was a—”
“Stop beating yourself up,” Wade said, his tone firm. “Both of you. This whole thing took place years ago. Neither of you are responsible.”
“I know, but knowing I have his DNA . . .” Catherine couldn’t finish the sentence; it was too disgusting to say aloud.
“You are Jean and Russ Michaels’s child, Catherine,” Gracie said, her voice stronger now. “They’re the people that raised you. They’re the ones that matter.”
Catherine looked into her sister’s eyes and said, “I wish I could go back in time. I wish I’d never found those papers in Dean’s kitchen.”
“How did you find them anyway?” Wade asked. “Dean didn’t say.”
“I’d gotten up early to make us something to eat.” She smiled. “I was going to surprise him with breakfast in bed.” She had to swallow back the pain when she said, “His coat was tossed over the table, and when I went to hang it on the chair the papers fell out of his pocket.”
“Damn, I’m sorry as hell you had to find out that way.”
