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“My reasoning was complicated.”
I turn and face the only man I’ve ever trusted. “Let me guess, then. You were part of their cover-up?”
“Not at all.” He pulls in a shuddering breath. “I was the prosecuting attorney then and had been assigned the Hanson House case.”
I scoff. “You’re not helping yourself, Teach.” Not only did he rat me out, but he had unlimited access to cover up the assaults.
“Alistair.” He sighs. “I’m your grandfather.”
Everything south of my ears seems to disappear with his words. “I’m sorry, what?”
As if suddenly tired, he eases to the ground, keeping his eyes on the burning car before him. “I wasn’t always a good man, son. I was cocky and had an ego that you wish yours could orbit.”
I choke down a laugh. Nothing about this moment is funny.
“I was wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, yet I was still unfulfilled.”
“Spare me the lecture. I’ve heard it before.” The story I want to hear is the one he’s never told.
Enoch motions for me to sit. “Settle, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
The last thing I want to do is sit next to a traitor, but at this point, I’d do anything to get the closure I need.
Less gracefully than Enoch, I sit on the grass, bending my knee to prop up my arm, watching as the flames lick the ceiling of his car. “I’m sitting. Now talk.”
On any other day, Enoch would have backhanded me into oblivion for speaking to him in such a way, but things have changed. Just like respect can be earned, it can be taken away.
“It took Magda and me years to conceive. I was thirty-five by the time your father was born.”
I shake my head. “My father was a rapist at Hanson House.” He had to be. Why else would he stay away and let my mother raise a child alone?
“Your father was no rapist. He was a good man—much better than me.”
I can agree with that point.
“Paul, your father, met your mother when he was in basic training for the Army. I don’t know the details of their relationship, since the first I’d heard of her was when Paul told me she was pregnant, and they would be getting married.”
I chance a look at Enoch, hoping the heat warming my body is from the car fire and not the thought of having two parents who loved me.
“He told me your mother would join him once he received his station orders.” A tear streaks down his face. “You must understand, I only wanted what was best for my son.”
Immediately, I’m on my feet, rage pumping through my veins like pure adrenaline. “Are you saying my mother, who had Down syndrome, wasn’t the best for him?”
Enoch doesn’t move. He finds my gaze and holds it. “No. Her having Down syndrome did not factor into my wants for my son. My concern was that he wanted independence from me and his mother. He wanted to serve his country, and I was afraid I would lose my only son, who wanted to fight for people who didn’t appreciate his sacrifice.”
I can see that. “You wanted him to decide to stay based on the few ungrateful citizens and not the thankfulness of many?” I, for one, appreciate the sacrifice of the men and women in the military. Like with any servicemen, there’s always a rotten few, but the many are good people.
Enoch grunts. “I did. I wanted my son close to help him and your mother.” A sob wracks his body. “I wanted to know my grandson, but we had a fight, and then he was killed in a freak accident during training.”
My chest spasms as I think of a father I never knew, fighting for a future with me and my mother.
“You have to understand, Alistair. All I wanted was my son back. It took me years to even be able to say his name.”
The anger bubbles up again. “So, you figured, fuck me and my mother?”
Enoch’s head droops to his chest. “I’m not proud of my behavior. I was grieving, but I did come for you and your mother.”
What? “I would have remembered seeing you,” I argue. “Why would you keep your existence a secret?”
