“You lied to me.”
Raven jerked, her head popping up fast, her arm bumping the sides of the cylinder. The form teetered grossly off center and then collapsed.
“Damn it.” Raven plopped onto the wooden seat, shut off the wheel, and mushed the clay into a messy mound of mud. “Don’t ever come in here and surprise me like that. Do you have any idea how long that took me to shape?” She narrowed angry eyes at him and flipped muddy slip off her hands. It splattered onto the floor, some landing on his boots and the cuffs of his pants. “What the hell are you doing here, Aidan?”
“You lied to me,” he repeated, advancing farther into the room.
She seemed to catch onto his mood. She forgot about the clay mess on her wheel, reached for a towel, and slowly wiped off her hands. “Lied to you about what?” she asked with a slight tremble to her voice. One she tried to conceal with a haughty lift of her chin.
“Fox.”
Raven swallowed, her eyes not quite meeting his. “What about Fox?”
Aidan stalked toward her, stopping just within reach. Leaning down, he slapped his palms down on the bench, caged her in with his arms. “Give it up, Raven. I know he’s my son.” He said each word clearly and distinctively.
Her eyes flickered to his, her pupils wide, her honeyed skin went icy white. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “Don’t you dare lie to me again.”
She shut her mouth and rapidly looked around the room. There was nowhere to go, and she started to tremble. He didn’t take pity on her, kept his arms like bars on the sides of her hips, jailing her in on the bench where she sat, his face right next to hers.
“H-how…how did you find out?” she whispered.
He slowly straightened as she admitted the truth. He knew from Fox that he was his father, didn’t doubt the truth, but having Raven confirm it was like a punch to his already bruised and battered heart. “Why, Raven?”
She met his gaze, hers unsure. Fear shined for a fleeting moment before hard resolve replaced it. He wanted her scared. She should be quaking in her muddy overalls.
With a slight tremor, she got to her feet. “Why?” She gave a laugh. The sound scornful and disbelieving like he’d asked a stupid question. “Your father killed mine. He wasn’t even cold in the ground, and I’m supposed to let everyone know that I was carrying the grandbaby of his killer.”
“I had a right to know.”
“I had a right to protect my child.”
“Our child. From me?”
“Yes, from you.” She threw down the towel she’d wiped her hands clean with, the muscles working in her jaw, her breasts rising with each rapid breath she took.
He slammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You should have told me,” he said, his voice an edge of steel. “He’s my son.”
“Yes, he is, but I couldn’t allow him to grow up with that kind of influence.”
Emotions swamped him. It was easier to fight, harder to feel. He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin as he gave her a hard shake. “I am not my father.”
“How was I to know what kind of man you would turn into? All the evidence pointed that you would follow in Earl’s footsteps.”
“What evidence?”
“You have a temper, Aidan.”
“A lot of people do.” He let go of her and stepped back. Anger no longer had a hold on him. Instead sadness swept in, depressing as it suffocated. “Why were you, of all people, so quick to believe the worst of me?”
Raven felt sick to her stomach. She’d convicted him based on his father’s sins. But—
“I thought you knew me,” Aidan said quietly. He looked at her, his eyes wounded, lost. Turning, he walked away from her, softly shutting the studio door behind him.
Slam it, she wanted to yell. He had a right to. He was supposed to be mad. Mad she could deal with. But wounded, lost, hurt. What did she do with that?
Her stomach churned like a pot of boiling water. Why was she feeling guilty? Shameful. She’d been a scared, pregnant teenager. What the hell did any eighteen-year-old kid know, especially when they were going to have a kid? She hadn’t made the choice not to tell Aidan about Fox lightly. A lot of reasons had gone into the decision.
But were those reasons the right ones?
She rubbed the back of her neck. What if she had been wrong all these years? No, absolutely not. She’d been right about Earl.
Could she have been wrong about Aidan?
Had she blamed him unfairly? Her mother had always thought so, but Lynx and Tern had agreed with her when she’d sent Aidan packing. They hadn’t known she’d been pregnant, though.