Stepbrother Thief(46)

I'm standing there shaking and having a small panic attack myself, but I don't let it show on my face.

“Solène …” he says her name like a whisper on the wind, his eyes flickering as he mentally pushes the puzzle pieces into place. We don't break eye contact when he says it. “She's my daughter.”

I nod my chin, almost imperceptibly, but that's okay—I'm sure Gill is really looking now.

“When you left me, I was pregnant. Actually, funny story, the exact day that you left, I was going to tell you. I'd come home from shopping with a whole bag full of fun baby stuff. Was going to leave it on the bed for you to find. Only … I found a note there instead.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but some creeps in anyway. “And then at the hotel …” I trail off because he knows. Gill knows exactly what I'm talking about.

A door opens behind me, but I don't turn to look.

“Oh? Something happening out here?” Cliff asks cheerfully. He must know that that something is bad, based on his son's body language, but he comes up to stand next to me, planting a loving kiss on my cheek anyway. “You're white as a ghost.”

“You knew about all of this?” Gill asks his father, his voice dropping, the heat of anger creeping into his words. Cliff turns his attention back to Gilleon and raises a graying eyebrow. “My … you've been raising my daughter all this time and you didn't think to fucking tell me?”

“Whoa there, son,” Cliff says, raising his hands palms out. “You need to keep your voice down. Solène doesn't need to hear a bunch of foolish adults hash out their problems, especially when those problems have nothing to do with her.”

“Nothing to … are you fucking losing it, old man?” Gill snarls, his face a wild and unpredictable storm. Holy shit. His gaze flicks back to me, making me take a step back. The strength of feeling in him right now is a dreadfully beautiful sight to behold. I don't know whether I should be glad that he cares so much, or terrified about what he's going to do with this knowledge.

“Our choices weren't her choices,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Can we go somewhere else and talk?”

Gill runs his hand over his face.

“I can't even fucking goddamn believe this shit,” he snarls, shaking his head like that'll clear some of the sharp, violent anger from his expression. Without answering me, he turns and starts down the stairs at a jog, taking two at a time in his rage.

“Don't let him intimidate you,” Cliff tells me, reaching down and taking my hand. “He has no right to judge, especially not given the decisions he's made in his life.”

I nod and take a deep breath, steeling myself for a conversation I've been waiting over a decade to have.

“I won't.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks and I shake my head.

“He'll just yell at you if you do. He wants to take his anger out on someone, but for whatever reason, he seems unwilling to send any my way. I'll talk to him.” I give Cliff's hand a squeeze and head down the stairs, past a baffled Aveline and out the back door into the chilly afternoon air. The sun was out earlier, but it seems to have retreated behind some clouds.

Gilleon's on the deck, bent over at the waist, his hands on his knees as he struggles to find his breath.

I watch him cycle through the emotions and thank God that he's not being apathetic about this. If he'd shrugged, acted like it was no big deal, like he didn't give two shits about it, that would hurt. Hell, that might leave a wound that would never stop bleeding.

“Gill, I know I maybe should've had Cliff tell you one of the times you called him or hell, even when we first started talking about doing this job. But I … At first, I couldn't forgive you for leaving and then later, it just never seemed like the right time. I was such a mess that I couldn't give Solène the life she deserved. Cliff … he really stepped in and made things good for her.” I wait for a response from him, but he's still bent over, his dark hair fluttering in the breeze, orange and yellow and red leaves spinning around the deck at his feet. “It seemed so obvious to me. I felt like … all you had to do was look, Gill, just like you look at everything else in your life. I wanted you to figure it out, and you did.”

More silence.

I shift on my feet, the cold gusts of wind slicing through the thin material of my dress. I'm about to turn around, head back inside, when I hear him speak.

The words are not at all what I expected.

“I'm sorry, Regina,” Gill says, standing up, looking me straight in the face. “I am so fucking sorry.”

He moves across the deck towards me, booted feet loud against the wood, as I stumble back and bump into the wall.