“You’re looking out for the same person as always. Yourself.”
She gasps, and I shift. My hand blindly feels for the door behind me, in search of the knob. I shouldn’t be here. Listening to this. I’m not real family, not like them, and now that I know Isaac is okay, discomfort skitters under my skin with every additional word they say.
Bridget’s voice hikes to a pitch I don’t recognize, almost a shriek. “You can’t possibly still be punishing me for an old mistake, Vincent. I have done everything,everything, in my power to make up for it.”
“Nothing worth redemption.”
“You can’t be serious. For crying out loud, I took in a damaged, dirty child just to try and get you to come back to me! Tous. You wanted a girl once. Wasn’t that enough? Why didn’t that fix it like when we adopted Isaac? Don’t you remember? You forgave me then. For a long while, we were a real family again.”
Blood rushes to my ears, and my hand slips from the knob, falling loosely to my side.
Damaged.
Dirty.
Child.
I always wondered why she took me in. I guess now, I have my answer.
Easton’s gaze touches my cheek, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I can’t bring myself to budge.
“Darling ...” Bridget’s quiet plea pierces my ears like claws. “It was one time.”
“And still, you lie!” Vincent booms. His anger shakes the room. “Iknow, Bridget. I know Easton isn’t mine!”
The air stills.
My lungs compress as I finally bring myself to look at Easton.
Every inch of him is solid. A statue carved out of rough stone and serrated edges.
Silence has never been so suffocating.
“I’ve known for years, dammit!”
For a long time, Bridget just gapes at Vincent. “I ... okay ... but—but that ended a long time ago. You have to believe me.” Her lips quiver, matching the unsteadiness of her voice. “Besides, Isaac isn’t yours either, and you love him anyway. You love him more than any of us.”
Isaac swallows, drags a hand down his face, and looks away. “All right. Shit. I didn’t mean for any of this to—”
“Isaac was a choice, Bridget. Ichosehim to be my son. Do you know, I can’t even fucking look at Easton without seeing you and another man fucking?Youwere my mistake, and now I’m stuck with both of you.”
Someone knocks on the door behind me, and Bridget jumps. That’s when she spots us. A faint sound of surprise leaves her lips. “Easton.”
Vincent’s spine stiffens before he looks over his shoulder. Remorse, a look I’ve never seen on him before, softens his hard features. “Jesus.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m ... That wasn’t meant for you to hear.”
Easton’s gaze meets his father’s, and that’s all it takes for his stone walls to slip, slip, then crumble. Whiskey eyes glint beneath slanted brows. Betrayal stretches like thick, black tar to every corner of the room, curling around my heart.
“Why not,Dad?” It’s a quiet, simmering rumble. “Because honesty is so fucking refreshing?”
“Easton!” Bridget’s palm clasps her open mouth.
He shoots a deadly look at his mother. My chest aches from just looking at him. “I forgot, Rutherfords don’t say what we’re actually thinking. Oh, wait.” He cocks a brow, turning toward the door to leave. “Guess I’m not a Rutherford, so the rules don’t apply to me.”
He catches my gaze as he heads straight for the door I’m blocking, and my throat tightens.
He stops right in front of me. “Open the door, Eva,” he instructs softly.
I know I should move, let him go, but something holds me back. The raw betrayal in his eyes takes my breath away. But this is his family, whether he likes it or not. In the end, being alone hurts more than the temporary sting of betrayal. I should know.
