Ronan is breathing heavily, but he’s finding his words.
Still unable to make eye contact with Silas, he says, “We should not have broken in like that. And definitely not armed.” He squeezes his eyes shut, his struggle obvious. “Not only is my son intelligent. Not only is he an expert in the field of…”
“Fucked-up brains?” Oakley provides.
“Yeah, that.” Ronan looks at his son. Really looks at him. “But also, you have always had a good sense of people. You’ve always known before the rest of us whether a person had good intentions or bad. I should have trusted you. And this irrational fear I have of Silas?—”
“It’s notsoirrational,” Silas says.
Ant grumbles. “Don’t say that.”
Silas bites his lip. “You may have seen the same footage of me, but you were warned what you’d be looking at. Thane and Ronan saw it live. There’s no way it wouldn’t have triggered his PTSD.”
Ant nods. Ronan realizes Ant must have his own struggles with PTSD. He, of course, would know all about memories that stick around long after you thought you’d worked it all out.
“That is true,” Ronan admits to the table, the truth of what he’s done starting to finally land. “I have been in therapy for years, as needed. But I’ve never allowed myself to examine how I feel about you.” He shivers, then admits, “You look so much like him that it’s like he’s sitting right here in front of me.”
Silas, more generous than Ronan feels he deserves, nods. “I get that.”
“But you’re not him. And you’ve never been him. And I’m so sorry I’ve never acknowledged that.”
It’s Silas’s turn to shift in his seat.
For the first time in this entire exchange, Ronan looks Ant and Erik in the eyes. “I don’t think I understood how much you gave up to raise Silas.” He holds up his hand. “Wait. That’s not exactly right. I…”
Ronan’s chest hitches, and Thane grips his hand.
“I’mthe one who made it impossible for you to truly be a part of this family. I was afraid, yes. But I did that. I never thought to examine whether or not that level of fear warranted what it did to this family.”
Ronan rubs his forehead, grief marking his face. “Thane said that if Silas’s birthname had been Bash instead of Blake, I’d have accepted him, murderous tendencies and all.” He buries his face in his hands. “He’s right, of course, but Silas isn’t a Bash or a Blake. Silas is a Hernandez.”
Silas looks to his dads, tears in his eyes. “Yes, I am.”
Ant’s hand goes to his chest, and Ronan remembers a salient detail. Ant’s last name was taken from him when he was sold. It was the name he clawed his way back to, the name his husband took as his own.
For Silas to proudly accept it too… Well, that means something.
“Oh God.” Ronan’s hands go to his head. “Ant, Erik, I am so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
Ant gets up and crosses the room, fast for such a small man. Ronan rises from his seat, and the two men hug. Seconds later, Erik and Thane also meet in the middle for a hug.
“We were friends once,” Ronan says, stepping back. “And maybe it’s too much to ask, but I would like to try again.”
Ant sniffs. “It’s not too much to ask. And not just for our sons.”
Hedy and Indaja get up and join the group hug.
“I should’ve intervened sooner,” Hedy says. “Certainly before Oakley started crossing ethical boundaries left and right.”
“Excuse me?” Oakley pulls Silas into his side. “You’re gonna talk tomeabout ethics?”
A dark chuckle fills the room. Everyone looks to Edison, who is still seated at the table. He laughs even louder and gets up, joining Hedy with an arm around her waist.
“He’s got you there.”
The entire room laughs, and the last of the tension breaks.
The work has just begun, but maybe it’s no longer mission impossible.
