She turned away, fighting to breathe, to find that place in her heart where she would always remember, they were her parents!
“I have to go,” she finally whispered, the realization that Jason had destroyed more than he probably ever knew burning through her mind.
“Gypsy, I’m so sorry,” her father whispered, and the sorrow he felt filled his eyes, his expression. “Tell Mr. Wyatt we’ll do whatever he needs.” He glanced at her mother before turning back to her. “We’ll tell him everything he needs to know.”
He watched her with such resignation and regret that her heart broke for him.
“I wish . . .” Her voice broke, taking precious moments to find her control once again. “I wish I could have stopped this from happening.”
“You can’t stop what you’re unaware of, sweetheart. The blame doesn’t lie with you, it lies with me.” His voice was heavy with regret, with pain and a resignation born of the knowledge that some things could never be fixed.
She nodded shortly, turned and moved to the door.
“Gypsy?” Her mother’s voice had her pausing, her fingers on the doorknob, though she didn’t turn back. “Stay away from Kandy, don’t destroy her too.”
“God, Greta.” Shock filled her father’s voice now.
She didn’t wait to hear more. Pulling the door open, she stepped out, closed it behind her, then stood as still as stone to pull in a ragged breath.
“Mark adored you, Whisper.”
Her head jerked up, her gaze meeting the emerald depths of Dane Vanderale’s quiet, compassionate one as he leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest negligently.
“I know he did.” She nodded before glancing around, realizing that the Breed guarding the door had quietly disappeared.
“I have in my possession a video taken from your home the night your brother died,” he told her as she blinked back at him. “He was actually on the phone with me that night as I ordered forces to his location. As Jonas told you, the Breeds were unaware of his location. Until he learned you were in danger. He called me just before you left the house and told me how he intended to get you to Lobo Reever’s ranch by speaking so cruelly to you. I advised him to take you and run instead, but he was far too certain he would be unable to protect you long enough for my forces to reach you.”
One shock after another, Gypsy thought. Would she be able to bear many more surprises?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked him, unaware that the words were even a thought. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Breathing in deeply, he lowered his head for long moments, the tension she’d never seen around this man shimmering in the air for but a moment before he once again became the lazy slouch he pretended to be.
“Would it have made a difference?” His gaze lifted to hers quickly, no doubt catching her answer before she was aware of it herself.
“He was my brother . . .”
“He told me once he was the father he’d always imagined he would be,” he broke in, his tone soft, gentle as a reminiscent smile tugged at his lips. “He told me of the young girl he’d taken as a babe, bathed and powdered her, comforted and held her when he was but a child himself. Ten, I believe.”
She nodded. “He was ten when I was born.”
“And he took one look at the tiny scrap you were and cherished you from that first look,” he told her. “We talked many times. I may not have known where he was, or who he was exactly, but I knew many things about him.”