Her voice broke completely.
“But I didn’t really understand anything, did I?” Grace said, looking at me with devastating clarity. “Those waves weren’t about me at all. She was drowning, Dad. Every single day, she was drowning. And sometimes she could fight her way to the surface long enough to breathe, long enough to be my mom. But then they’d knock on the door, and the weight would pull her back under, and all she could do was survive. All she could dowas keep her head above water long enough to make sure I was safe.”
King pulled her into his arms, holding her as she sobbed against his chest. “You were always enough,” he murmured. “Always. Your mother’s distance wasn’t about you. It was never about you.”
“All this time I thought she was broken,” Grace said against his chest, her voice muffled but clear. “And she was, because they broke her. But she was surviving. She was doing everything she could to protect me from the truth. From the darkness. From the choices she’d had to make. And I judged her for it. I resented her for not being emotionally available when she was using every ounce of strength she had just to keep breathing.”
I stood there watching them. My daughter and the man who loved her unconditionally. And felt the weight of everything I’d been carrying for twenty years finally break open inside me. Not cleanly. Not simply. But violently. Like a dam bursting. Flooding me with shit I’d been holding back for so long I’d forgotten it was there.
The guilt hit first. Sharp. Suffocating. I hadn’t been there for Christina. Hadn’t known what she was going through. Hadn’t protected her. I’d hidden her away, thinking I was keeping her safe, and instead she’d been raped and used. Broken down piece by piece until she’d felt she had no choice but to comply.
I should have been there. Should have seen the fucking signs. Should have known something was wrong.
But beneath the guilt was something darker. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore anymore.
Anger.
I was furious at Christina. And the fury felt like betrayal because how the fuck could I be angry at a woman who’d suffered so much?
But I was. God help me, I was.
Maybe she’d always been too broken to trust anyone. Too scared to believe that I could protect her. Too convinced that the only way to keep Grace safe was to disappear completely. To cut me out of their lives and never look back.
I didn’t know. I’d never know. Because Christina was gone, and all I had left were her words in this journal and the daughter she’d left behind.
The truth was, I’d spent twenty years grieving a woman I’d never truly known. I’d built her up in my mind as this perfect, tragic figure—the love of my life who’d been stolen from me by circumstances beyond our control.
But now, reading her journal, seeing the choices she’d made, understanding the darkness she’d carried—I realized I’d been in love with an idea. A fantasy. A version of Christina that had never really existed.
The real Christina had been complicated. Damaged. Capable of violence and manipulation and ruthlessness. She’d killed people. Had given her body to men she didn’t want. Had made impossible choices that had destroyed her from the inside out. Had carried secrets so dark they’d eaten her alive.
And I hadn’t known any of it. Hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t been there to witness the slow unraveling of the woman I thought I loved.
I didn’t know if that was my fault or hers. And the not knowing was eating me alive.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Popeye
“Dad?” Grace’s voice drew me back to the present.
I looked up. Grace pulled away from King, her face red and swollen from crying, but her eyes were clearer now. Calmer. Like she’d finally found solid ground after drowning for so long.
“Thank you,” she said. “For telling me. For helping me understand her.”
“Always,” I said, my voice rough. I pulled her into my arms. “I’ll always be here now, Grace. Whatever you need.”
She nodded, and I knew it was time to give them space. Time to let Grace process everything with King. As hard as it was, it was time to step back and let my daughter grieve in her own way.
I’d lost something in the years Grace was hidden away from me. The connection, the bond a father and daughter built through decades of time spent together. I’d never had that, and I didn’t know if I ever would.
I left the office, closing the door quietly behind me, and walked through the empty clubhouse. Tank was wiping down the bar, but he didn’t look up as I passed. Didn’t ask questions. Just let me go.
Outside, the late afternoon sun was warm on my face. My bike sat in the parking lot, Christina’s journal in my pocket.I stood there for a long moment, staring at nothing, trying to process everything that had just happened.
Grace had a brother. A brother she’d never known. A brother who didn’t know she existed. A brother who wasn’t my son.
Christina had carried that secret to her grave.
