My father’s.
The room tilted. My hand braced the counter to keep from swaying. East moved closer, putting his arm around me. “You’re okay, sugar. Breathe.”
“He’s still listed as living,” Briggs said, careful. “We’ve double-checked. I’m sure you’re not surprised.” The tone was still gentle. “Looks like he’d dropped off the map for a bit. Did some time here and there.” Air seemed to seep from the room. “He’s actually still on parole from the last time he was in jail.”
Oh my God, my father was a criminal and a terrible person. I mean. He abandoned us. What kind of person does that? Someone who was morally corrupt, that’s who. I could never get over the betrayal of him living some kind of life without a care while we struggled. My mom died, and I was left all alone. Thank God from my Grams.
Briggs’s voice continued as if my mind wasn’t racing a mile a minute. “He resurfaced on paper about five years ago. Tax records, utilities.”
East swore softly under his breath. The sound was low, dangerous, vibrating in my bones.
“He walked away from us.” The words rasped out. “He doesn’t get to come back now.”
Wade’s jaw tightened. “The law might not see it that way. I don’t think this is about what he gets. It could be about what he might want. And that’s the problem. We wanted you to know what we found.”
The quiet stretched, heavy and thick, until even theshop seemed to be still around it. The scent of sugar and coffee lingered, mocking in its comfort.
“Grams had a will.” The words were desperate, but I already knew that the will wouldn’t hold up. If Milton Merrick wanted to put a claim in for the little blue cottage that I’d grown up in, then that was a done deal. Grams’s chicken scratch on a piece of paper wasn’t all buttoned up like it should have been.
Briggs cleared his throat. “Knowing who stands to gain gives us a clearer picture.” His gaze held mine, steady. “This doesn’t prove anything, but it points us in a direction.”
“Not ruling anything else out, but this widens the circle. A lot,” Wade agreed.
I felt East’s hand brush my arm, a tether against the pull of panic. I didn’t dare look at him, not with Wade watching. But the contact steadied me.
“I can’t…” My throat worked. “I can’t wrap my head around it.”
“It’s just one more angle, Lila,” Wade said. His voice softened, though the steel never left it. “But you need to be ready for the possibilities. He’s not gone. And if he’s the one behind this, he knows more about you than we’d like. He would have been familiar with the inside of the cottage.”
The words lodged deep and sharp.
“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” I was vaguely aware of East talking to his brother, murmuring as they discussed it. I slumped against East’s side, trying to let it sink in before Wade and Briggs left the room, their departure leavingsilence that stretched on. Rain whispered against the windows, soft and steady, as if the whole town were listening.
A warm hand slid over mine, folding my fingers into his. “You’re shaking.” His voice was low, not a question, but a truth.
The denial came to my lips, brittle and thin. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” His thumb swept over my knuckles, slow, deliberate. “And you don’t have to be. Let’s start practicing saying when we’re not fine.”
The tightness in my chest eased just enough to let a sob slip out. My forehead bent toward him before I could stop it, resting against the hard plane of his chest.
He didn’t move for a moment, just let me press there. Then his arm came around me, pulling me in until there was no space left between us.
“East…” My voice broke on his name. “If it’s him—if he’s been out there this whole time …”
“Then he’s a coward who left, and you’re stronger than he’ll ever be.” His mouth brushed my hair, close enough that warmth rippled down my spine. “You’ve made your own way. You’re a hell of a woman. Nothing that man is or has done has anything to do with you.”
The words should have been enough. But the way he said them—raw and protective—made something dangerous unfurl in me. My hands curled into his shirt, needing more of that strength, more of him.
His lips found my temple, lingering there. Then lower, brushing my cheek. When I tilted my face up, his eyescaught mine—dark and burning with everything neither of us dared speak aloud.
God, I was falling in love with this man.
The kiss that followed wasn’t frantic like before. It was deep, deliberate, and made my knees weaken. His hand cradled the back of my head, threading through my hair and anchoring me as if he knew I might otherwise drift away in the storm.
34
Sage
