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“What he did to my mother…” My breath dries in my windpipe and my throat constricts at the recollection of my mother’s bruised body. “I’ll never forgive him, and I’ll never let him get close enough to hurt her again.”
“Your mother or you?” he asks. “When Wayne brought you both to the house, he didn’t say much, just that he needed me to help him, Ros and you boys. I knew your father, our paths had crossed, and I knew that he had a temper. We were never friends. I think he avoided me and I him. I always saw the worst in him because it was the easiest thing to see.”
“He is the worst, the lowest of the low. Nothing has changed, it will never change.” I take a cigarette from the pack in my hand and put it to my lips. I squeeze my lips around the filter as a way of plugging all the things I want to say about Lucian Fairfax.
“I understand that, but you don’t know everything that happened between them. Lucian was wrong, what he did is inexcusable, but your mother and Wayne…they were wrong too. Regardless of the circumstances.”
“Circumstances? He wasn’t a father to me, and he certainly wasn’t a husband to my mum.”
“He knows forgiveness isn’t something you can give him; I don’t think it’s something he can gift himself either. However, he wants to do the right thing by you and Kit. We’ve been talking and it’s time, Leo.”
My teeth bite t
hrough the filter of my cigarette and the usual soothe that comes from the sweetness of the vanilla and cherry is non-existent. It’s all numbness from the clove, and it’s not enough to tamp down the tearing pain that burns through my chest.
“No.”
“We spoke about this, we knew that it was a possibility. Nothing has changed, it’s not fair to him, and Rosalind and Lucian have made the decision. It’s time to let go.”
I shake my head, rolling the cigarette between my fingers until I feel it break apart. “No. I’m not giving up. I’m not giving him up. I can’t...I’m not letting go of him.” I don’t bother fighting the tears. My pride is meaningless.
“It’s the right thing to do.” Francis says softly, standing from where he’s sitting as I fold over the end of Cassie’s bed.
The pain is crippling, and the thought that she isn’t waking up either, makes it all the worse.
What if he eventually thinks the same about her?
I can’t stop him, just like I can’t stop my parents. I’m powerless when it comes to the people I love.
I told her I would protect her. I promised Kit I wouldn’t give up.
Francis squeezes my shoulder, and before I know what he’s doing, he turns me into him and does what a good father would do for his child. He tries to comfort me. His hands tighten around my shoulders and he looks me in the eye with a gravely seriousness that makes my inward sobs sputter.
“This is war, Leo. We make sacrifices. We incur unimaginable losses. It’s up to you to make it mean something.”
“You want to make this mean something?” Taking a step back, I swallow down the tears and emotions that do nothing but show weakness. “Tell me where Jack is?”
“I can’t do that.” Shaking his head, he turns back to Cassie.
“Why not?” Penny stands in the doorway, hate rife on her usually kind face.
I’ve never taken much notice of her looks, but right now, I can see all the attributes she shares with Cassie.
The hair, the big eyes, and high cheekbones. The softness and kindness that’s naturally etched onto their faces. Even the faint freckles, although hers are a little more pronounced. Their noses have the same daintiness, but Cassie’s is more like Francis’ sharp and regal with the slightest upturn at the tip.
“Charles is looking for you,” she tells him.
I did wonder when his friend, the Foreign Secretary, would show his face. Fleur practically lives with the Sinclairs, Penny is like a mother to his daughter.
“I’ll be back,” Francis tells her, pulling the chair he was sat in closer to her. “Call me if anything changes.”
Quietly she sits in the chair, her legs crossed and her face stony. I’m about to sit back down when she says, “Isn’t it sad that to be the bigger people we have to get trampled on?”
Her blue eyes meet mine, and there’s nothing but ice in them. “My father was like Francis, always the better man…he’s dead. Grace…” Her voice breaks at the mention of Fleur’s mum. “What’s the point of being good when all you get in return is this?” Tears run down her cheeks as she strokes Cassie’s hand. “I used to believe in keeping your enemies closer than your friends, but now, I think they should be squashed.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know, but I hope you find out.” Looking up at me, she smiles sadly. “It won’t make any of this better, but it’ll be a little more bearable knowing some kind of justice is had.”
