Roman-2(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(25)

I see the father I haven’t allowed myself to yearn for, and the thought brings immediate tears to my eyes.

“Here.”

I accept the pain medication and water, gulping the clear, cold liquid with desperation and thanks when the coolness relieves some of the pressure behind my eyeballs.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The ridiculousness of the situation, of our responses, hits me, and I chuckle despite myself, feeling that wave of hysteria washing over me. I should be yelling obscenities and trying to get out of the cable ties cutting into my skin.

I should at least make a token effort to kick his face in before telling him what a jackass he is.

I don’t, I just stare at him, willing him to see what a monumental mistake he’s made. Who the heck abandons his own kids for three freaking years and then comes back to kidnap one?

I’m the freaking grown one! Shouldn’t he have gone for Ben?

I know I sound so bad right now, but if he’d made a play for Ben I’d be at home with my family right now while the police worked Wesley over and threw the book at him.

“Don’t look at me like that! You don’t understand any of this, you little bitch,” he grates, shoving me back into the seat before twisting and hitting the gas to get us moving again.

“What? What don’t I understand! You left your family without a second thought, and now you’ve not only kidnapped me from mine but you’ve hurt me!”

Lucian is so gonna kick your ass for hurting me!

The thought comes out of left field, but it’s so right it makes me smile. He may not love me, may not like me most days, but I’m his, and Lucian always takes care of what’s his.

When—not if but when he does find me…watch out, Wesley, because you’re in sooo much trouble.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you! I just wanted to talk to you…to get you to understand! But you ran before I could say anything,” he mutters, hitting the steering wheel with a huff. “You have to make him stop. Please, Ash, you have to make him leave me alone.”

What? What the hell is he talking about?

“I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about,” I hiss, scooting up and leaning into the seat.

This upright position makes my blood rush back to my deadened limbs, and shit! It hurts a lot.

“He told my wife.” He starts crying then, and I harden my heart against his quiet sobs. “He told her that I… She left me and took my boy. She took him away.”

He… I gasp out a wheezing breath and shake my head forcefully against the bitter tears wetting my eyes.

“You have a wife and kid?”

Everything else ceases to exist for me in that moment, everything but the bitter taste of loathing and resentment. He’s crying about losing a son, about losing his precious boy, when he’s had one all along. One he threw away like garbage. One who has spent three years coming to terms with losing a man I now see isn’t worth a lick of spit.

And then I see Lucian’s face. Lucian smiling at Ben as they romp in the pool. Lucian’s stern face when he corrects Ben’s grammar and chides him for being rude in my presence. Lucian’s pride when he introduces Ben as our kid.

The bitterness recedes beneath a swell of love so fierce I realize I’ve been fooling myself all along. I love him, and not that generic love I felt before, or have fooled myself into thinking I’ve feel lately, but that all-consuming feeling of belonging that scares me half to death.

Crap.

“Yeah. And she left and took him. Then your…husband,” he spits the word like a curse and looks back at me with contempt. “Took all the money. He’s ruined me.”

In this type of situation I would’ve asked a million questions to satisfy my curiosity. Not now, though. Now I’m just biding my time till my man comes to get me.

Strangely, I don’t give a shit what Wesley did in the past or what he feels. I don’t care anymore. And as far as answers, well, I’ll get them from Lucian when he comes.

My silence seems to have a less than calming effect on Wesley, though, and I cringe when he turns the car sharply and we start bouncing over an uneven dirt road leading into the woods.

Oh, crapsickles.

I hate the woods, have had nightmares about getting lost in them since the night I’d snuck downstairs and watched Friday the 13th by myself.

I can’t even go camping, thanks to my illogical fear of meeting Jason, the machete-wielding maniac who just doesn’t die.

“Uh, where are we going?”

I so do not wanna go into the woods with him. It had worked out for Meryl Streep and her band of simpletons, but as far as I can tell I’m in a boatload of trouble when this car stops moving, and even if I manage to get loose and run, well, I am so far from survival-ready I may as well just stay with dear old Dad and see what he has in store for me.