He refused to lose Isadora. What would be the point of waking if she wasn’t a part of his day? So many things needed to change.
This thing with her brother… It had to end. He wouldn’t be another sacrifice she had to make. For as much as Lucian got under his skin, he would put all his emotions aside if it made her life better. The man was her brother and Parker wanted to be her husband some day. It was enough. The tension between them had to end.
And Scout… He missed his friend. She was having a child. The thought of not knowing her children—of her maybe not knowing his—drove the issue home. It wasn’t right for them to be outside of each other’s lives. They’d been a team for too long.
His gaze traveled to the cracked gate on the far side of the mill. Every day he and Scout used to scurry through that narrow opening and find home on the other side.
There had been no security. No guarantees. Very little joy or pleasure. But they had each other and somehow that made the hell they were living in a little more bearable each dreary day.
He sat there for a long time, his mind going over the fundamental moments of his early life and turning to the happier events of the last few months. He had regrets, lots of them. Some scars never healed. The human heart was indeed an irrational thing.
He thought of the regret Isadora might be feeling now. If she didn’t find a way through that pain it would fester and grow into something uglier than it was today. Sometimes the mind played tricks to make the heart hurt a little less. But sometimes the mind was the most dangerous villain of all, brutal and relentless in its karmic repetition of repentance. He didn’t want Isa to fall into that spiraling pit.
Despite his knowledge that his mother loved him very much, after she died, he’d convinced himself she didn’t. It was the only way the young boy in him could justify her leaving this world—leaving him—with hardly a fight.
Anger was a heavy burden to bear, but considerably easier to carry than sadness. It masked a lot for him over the years, but it didn’t necessarily help him. Anger took work. Sadness was easy, an effortless surrender that took the reins the moment you gave in. But it all stemmed from resentment.
There was just so much resentment, so much anger, so much sadness he still struggled to understand. That struggle could have been eased with only a few words from his mother, but his earlier life was an accumulation of missed comforts and, deep down, he always believed she’d known she was going to die, leaving him in a terrifying world, alone, with a wide open wound on his heart.
Sawyer could have eased Isa’s pain. It would have taken three simple words. He’d never understand why he withheld such a simple gift. Loving her was the easiest thing Parker had ever done.
It was a twisted truth, but Sawyer had been a guiding light in Isadora’s life. Her mother had passed and her father had abandoned her. His and Isadora’s adolescence were abnormal, but compared to each other, they were the same.
Perhaps Sawyer was the only figure she had to tell her she was doing okay. Right or wrong, the man might have saved her in moments she’d felt utterly alone, just as Scout had occasionally saved him.
Sawyer’s passing might have happened sooner than expected, if he had any warning at all, but now Parker truly believed jealousy wasn’t the trigger of the man’s desperate attempt to reconcile with Isa. Maybe the man wanted to leave this world knowing he’d given the one person who meant anything to him something to remember him by. What if he’d been trying to right a wrong?
Parker absolutely hated that she never got the proof she deserved. She should at least know the man loved her.
Turning the key in the ignition, he backed out of the abandoned lot and left his past where it belonged—behind him. Life was too short to dwell on missed opportunities and the heartache of yesterday. They all needed to look forward to better things. That meant saying proper goodbyes.
When he got home he went straight to the living room and rummaged around for something to write on. He reached into the coffee table drawer and found a tablet. Ripping off his scribbled notes, he crumpled them in his hand and tossed them into the wastepaper basket.
Finding a pen, he sat back and did something he promised her he’d never do, but the only thing he could think of that might make this easier on her. He started a lie.
My Dearest Isadora…
Chapter Nineteen
“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Jane Austen
Pride And Prejudice
The next morning he was showered and out the door before nine. He’d returned to Isadora’s house late last night, but she was as responsive as the day before. It was his day to volunteer at The Women’s House, so Isadora expected him not to linger.
As he got on the road, he pointed his car toward the city. Unsure where he’d find the one person he needed, he dialed Scout.
“Hello?”
“Scout?”
“Parker? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I need to speak to Lucian.”
There was a long pause followed by a skeptical, “Why?”
“I…” God, some things were never easy. “I need his help with something.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “He’s in the shower. Do you want me to have him call you?”
“I need to see him. Are you in the city or at the estate?”
“We’re at the hotel right now.”
Not a place he relished visiting. “Could you have him meet me in the lobby in about twenty minutes? Let him know I’m on my way. It’s important.”
“Sure, but Parker… What’s going on?”
“I just … need…” Fuck. He grit his teeth. “His help with something.”
The closer he drove to the city the more he questioned his sanity. As he pulled up in front of the prestigious hotel, a valet met him at his door.
“Good morning, monsieur. Checking in or visiting?”
My, how things could change in the blink of an eye. “Just visiting.”
The valet handed him a gold ticket and Parker stepped aside, letting him behind the wheel. He walked up the pristinely swept sidewalk and stilled, his eyes staring at the long red runner with gold fringe. God, he hated this place.
For whatever reason, stepping on that damn rug felt wrong. Every time he’d ever crossed that threshold his world got knocked on its ass.
Rolling his eyes, he marched over the carpet and through the gaping doors. It was a fucking rug.
The scent of citrus furniture polish and coffee welcomed guests, as his gaze drifted over an antique table occupying the center of the lobby, towering almost six feet with Danishes and croissants. He looked for any signs of Scout or Lucian in the crowd of people moving toward the restaurant.
The bay of elevators pinged and he turned and sighed. He was glad to see her first and this time he noted how thick her waist was. “Scout.”
She was definitely pregnant. How had he missed that the other night? Not only did she have a bump, she was glowing.
She smiled. “Hey, Park.” Offering him a quick hug, she stepped back. “Is everything okay? You were sort of cryptic on the phone.”
He smiled, his purpose sidetracked. “You’re pregnant. Really pregnant.”
Her cheeks flushed, those crystal eyes turning shy. “I thought you knew?”
He shook his head. “I thought you looked different, but I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention. How do you feel? Are you … happy?”
She had never wanted children, having had a trying time being one, but he supposed people changed. He at least hoped so because she was definitely going to be a parent in the near future.
“I’m very happy.” Her hand rested over the bump at her waist and he laughed, she looked so … normal. Like a mom.
A strange relief filled him, as though a worry he’d carried for years could now be put down. It was a forlorn sort of lightness, but one that wasn’t really sad at all. Despite all his
doubts and skepticism, he honestly believed her life was right and her heart would always be safe with Lucian.
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you.” She turned and glanced at the elevators. “Lucian should be down in a minute.”
Of course, he wouldn’t offer Parker an invitation into their private space. He chuckled. Things seemed so different, yet some things never changed.
“Will you stay?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to. Some things were better off private.
Her head tilted as she considered his question. Before she could answer the elevator doors opened again.
The sharp, arrogant click of Italian loafers had Parker drawing in a steady breath. Lucian didn’t intimidate him. Parker simply loathed asking him a favor.
This isn’t about you.
The air thickened, compressed by the weight of the other man’s ego and Parker’s mouth tightened. “Patras.”
“Hughes.”
Scout moved to Lucian’s side and her husband’s expression immediately softened. Rising on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “I’m going to say hi to Patrice and the girls at the salon. Will you order me some French toast?”
“Extra strawberries?”
She smiled, their gazes holding countless secrets as they looked into one another’s eyes. “Yes, please.”
As she stepped away, she squeezed Parker’s arm. “Play nice.”
He watched her go, noting how well she fit in with all the luxury, with Lucian Patras. He turned back to the other man. “Congratulations on the baby.”
Dark eyes studied him. “Thank you.” He glanced at the restaurant. “Shall we?” He strode away, not waiting for Parker’s response.
They sat in the back of the restaurant far from other patrons. The service was fluid and flawless, great care taken to meet the owner’s needs.
Once the preliminaries were handled, Lucian eyed him suspiciously and got right to business. “Why are you here, Hughes?”
“I need you to give something to your sister.”
He arched a brow. “Isadora?”
“Yes.”
Parker reached into his pocket and withdrew a long envelope, her name scrolled generically across the front in handwriting nothing like his own. He slid it across the table, but Lucian merely glanced at the envelope with disregard.
“What is it?”
“It’s a letter. I need you to give it to her and not say where you got it, only that it was left on your desk.”
“You mistake me for a messenger.”
“I know exactly who you are, Patras. Hide behind as many power suits as you want, I see the real you.”
His black eyes narrowed. “And what is it you think you see?”
“A man who loves his sisters and his wife and will do anything for them. Your sister needs this letter and I can’t be the one who gives it to her.”
He glanced at the letter. “What’s it say?”
“None of your business.”
Lucian flicked the envelope back to him. “Give it to her yourself.”
Parker gritted his teeth. “I’m telling you she needs this. Are you really going to let your arrogance stand in the way of necessity when it comes to those you love? Some things are worth more than pride.”
“You trust me not to open it?”
He hesitated. “I’m trusting you now, in this instance, because I’m asking you to trust that I know Isadora—in some ways better than you—and this is something she needs.”
There was a long silence and, finally, Lucian picked up the envelope and placed it in his breast pocket. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll do what’s right. I believe that.” Scanning the restaurant for Scout and not seeing her, he finished his coffee and stood. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Hughes.”
He paused, accustomed to men like Lucian always claiming the last word.
“You hurt her and I won’t hesitate to destroy you.”
“I ever hurt her, you have my full permission to do your worst.”
Lucian nodded and Parker left, not drawing in a full breath until he strode through the lobby and his feet crossed the tasseled runner. It was done.
PART VIII
Isadora
Chapter Twenty
“My secret’s long, obscure and unrefined,
Love’s quiet whispers between the lines.
You put down your pride to hold me in your hands,
Swearing tears wouldn’t tarnish loves true plans.
Your sharp edges, they’re not so rough,
Endless dredges, and I found love.”
Lydia Michaels
My Edgely Boy
Isadora opened the door, startled to see her brother. “Lucian.”
She quickly tried to disguise her disheveled appearance, but it was too late. His perceptive gaze missed nothing.
“What the hell happened to you? Are you sick?”
Tucking her matted hair behind her ear and closing her cardigan over her wrinkled T-shirt, she invited him inside. “I haven’t been feeling my best.”
“Have you been to a doctor?”
She didn’t need a doctor. “Do you want coffee?”
“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, Isa. You’re not even dressed.”
She hadn’t had the energy to dress in days. “I’m taking a day of rest.” Or five. “Coffee?”
He followed her into the kitchen where several dishes were stacked in the sink and the coffee pot sat with only half a cup filling the bottom of the carafe. She set the filter with fresh grounds and rinsed the pot.
“Stop staring at me.” She just wanted to be alone.
“Have you had anything besides coffee today?”
“Yes.”
She had ice cream for breakfast sometime before the sun came up. She didn’t have the strength to answer for herself or bear his scrutiny, so she tried not to make eye contact as she loaded the dishwasher.
“What did you need, Lucian?”
He hesitated, the coffee pot hissing quietly in the background as it brewed. His gaze was sharp, scrutinizing every telltale sign of her dysfunctional mind.
“Something was delivered to my office yesterday.”
She stilled and shut off the faucet. Pulling a fresh mug from the cabinet, she tried to appear interested, but couldn’t muster any intrigue. “Oh?”
“It was for you.”
Frowning, she turned to him. “What was it?”
Her personal mail was typically sent to the house, but sometimes her statements went to his office. He usually handled those things.
“It’s… Are you sure you’re okay? Your eyes are really puffy.”
“I’m fine. I’m just tired. I probably caught a bug,” she lied.
He grudgingly accepted her word. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a white envelope. “Here.”
She took the envelope in her hands and stared at it, not recognizing the penmanship. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. Someone left it on my desk.”
“Who?”
He shrugged. “No one saw who put it there.”
There was no address, no identifying seal or even a stamp. “This was hand delivered?”
“Appears so.”
Since when did her brother let people near his desk? He was usually obscenely protective of his private space.
Her thumb slid under the lip of the seal and she paused. Maybe she should open it when she was alone.
“Are you going to see what it is?”
She looked at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t already peek.”
His grimace proved the temptation was there. “It’s addressed to you.”
“You open plenty of my other mail.”
“Statements. This looked personal.”
The coffee finished percolating with a steamy fizzle. She slid the envelope into the pocket of her cardigan and filled a mug. “You sure you don’t want any?” She asked out of politeness,
but hoped he wouldn’t linger.
“I can’t stay. I just wanted to give you that.”
“Well, thank you.”
Guilt bloomed, as she was relieved he was leaving, but she pushed it away—too many negative emotions already occupying her heart. She couldn’t handle company at the moment. She’d even been deterring Parker from visiting when she could, though he persistently found his way over, even if just to sit silently by her side.
Lucian’s forehead creased and he hesitated. She sipped her coffee, staring at him, raising a brow.
He shook his head, eyes troubled. “You know you can talk to me, Isa. If something’s wrong, I’ll fix it for you.”
“Some things can’t be fixed, Lucian.”
“Does this—” He waved a hand at her disheveled appearance. “—have anything to do with Hughes?”
“Wouldn’t you just love it if I said yes?”
His expression appeared wounded. “No. I get no pleasure from watching someone hurt my sister.”
She weighed the truth of his words and sighed. In that moment, she wanted to lean into her brother’s strength and confess she was breaking on the inside, that a man she gave half her life to was suddenly gone and she was in such despair she could barely move. But she didn’t.
She looked at him, seeing his strength, recognizing his need to make everything right for those he loved, and she knew even he could not fix this for her.
The secrets she carried would be her burden for the rest of her life. Sawyer’s half added to everything else that already rested on her shoulders.
She was done keeping secrets, done hiding behind lies, but this one was a permanent tattoo on her past. Without Sawyer, it seemed wrong to confess the truth now, like a betrayal to his memory.
Never again would she make the mistake of thinking that deception solved anything. If anything, Sawyer taught her how blemished reality could be when clouded by a lifetime of secrets and lies.
She studied her brother, believing he would never honestly position himself between her and her happiness. She trusted that he loved her enough to let her choose what her heart wanted.
Queen of the Knight (Surrender Games Book 2) Page 23
