by Eva Luxe
“I can assure you she’s safe with me.”
“I have no doubt of that,” she said, grinning. “You’ve always felt safe to me.”
I squeezed her shoulder before I pulled her in for a hug, and I felt her bury her face into the crook of my neck.
“I’m so sorry, Zach,” she said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry for doing this to you.”
“Hush now. None of that talk. Just calm down.”
“Please tell her I love her,” she said, crying. “Please tell her that she was my world.”
“I will,” I said as I choked back tears. “I promise you I will.”
We stood there in the middle of the playground as Blithe continued to run around. She was giggling and swinging, and her jet-black curls were blowing in the wind. When she smiled, I could see the beauty of her mother in her features. I just hoped I could raise her to be as strong as her mother was. As strong as this frail woman who was crying into my skin.
“She’ll be just fine,” I whispered. “Both of us will be just fine.”
Chapter 37- Paige
I was no longer in control of my actions. The decisions I was making were based solely off my raging emotions. I spent all night placing the final pieces in their proper places that connected all the dots I couldn’t connect before. I ignored every single phone call from my former boss as I drove to the massive building I’d been summoned to.
I knew my cowardly excuse for a boss wasn’t going to bring it up with Mr. Kent, but I would.
I requested a meeting with Mr. Kent at the gates and told the woman who I was. I stormed past her and shoved my way into the elevator before anyone could stop me. My hands were fidgeting as I rode all the way up to the penthouse floor, my mind at a standstill for the first time since I’d taken this case. I knew what had happened, and I was going to let Mr. Kent know that his plan didn’t go unnoticed.
His brow furrowed when he saw me. “Miss Conwell, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“You can save it,” I said coolly. “All I want to know is why.”
“Why, what, Miss Conwell?”
“I know who you are,” I said.
“Yes, we’ve met before and talked on several occasions,” Mr. Kent said.
“Don’t play coy. You won’t like me if you play coy.”
I held his gaze, and I noticed the light twitch in his brow. His facade was good, I would give him that. It had me swayed for the longest time before I got to know Zach. His son. The young boy he’d manipulated and abused for the majority of his life. Once I became emotionally invested in this case, I saw right through his disgusting little act.
“Miss Conwell, why are you here?” Mr. Kent asked. “I’ve already paid for your services.”
“I’m here to tell you that I figured it out,” I said.
“I know. You gave me the information I needed to track down the thief.”
“No,” I said. “I figured out who you are and why you were so interested in Zach Harte.”
I watched his brow twitch again as I took a step toward the man sitting at his desk.
“You’re a control freak. You thrive on giving orders and punishing people when they aren’t followed. You bow to no one, and you don’t care about who you run over in order to get the success you figure you’re afforded. At one point in time, people would’ve called you a decent man, an honest, hardworking individual with a beautiful wife who was blossoming with pregnant life.”
“Don’t you dare talk about Melissa,” Mr. Kent said.
“And then you got greedy. Melissa was the fun little trophy wife you had at your side when you attended functions, parties, and end of the year celebrations, but when she had Zach, she changed, didn’t she?”
“Get the hell out of my office.”
“She changed when she had your son,” I said. “Zachary Malachai Laine. Only he changed his name when he turned eighteen. To Zachary Harte. After his mother’s maiden name.”
I could see the anger flaring in his eyes.
“I’ve seen the hospital reports. I know about the abuse. I know how Melissa died, and I know exactly who Zach blames for that death. I know about the demons she was haunted with and the nightmares she suffered at your hands because you were too hellbent on finding success to recognize the fissures occurring in your family.”
“You know nothing about my family,” Mr. Kent said, banging his fist on the desk.
“I’ve seen her gravesite,” I said plainly. “Where Zach had her buried after she committed suicide.”
I saw his forehead twitch again.
“You’ve been there?” he asked.
“Yes, with your son,” I said. “She’s buried with your last name on her headstone. You wanna know why I figure that was?”
He stayed silent, but I could tell I had his full attention.
“I know when a broken family is trying to reach out for each other. I have a feeling that the information Zach has on his computer about you and your company is his way of trying to connect with his father, the father he remembered before you turned into a raging drunk.”
“He’s my son. All I wanted to do was check up on him and make sure he was okay.”
“By painting him as a criminal,” I said. “Answer me this. Did you start drinking because of the pressures of being a father, the pressures of being a businessman, or because you didn’t understand how to balance the two?”
I watched Mr. Kent clench his jaw as he debated what to say to me next.
“I’m not the man I was back then,” he said. “Not anymore.”
“No, you’re not. You’re obviously sober, but your anger is still there. Your need for control is apparent in every facet of this company, from the wrought iron gates and the intercom out front, all the way to the man in the elevator. You control, and when you feel you can’t control others, you dangle what they want most in front of them to get them to respond.”
“I do not,” he said.
“You did it with me during our first meeting. When you dangled that manila envelope in front of me. Taunting me with information just to get me into your office. You were sizing me up, Mr. Kent. What you didn’t realize was that I was sizing you up, too.”
He got to his feet, and I began backtracking toward the elevator. I wasn’t stupid. I knew if he lunged at me he would be able to knock me off my feet. If his anger got the best of him and he leapt at me, he could pin me down and I wouldn’t stand a chance.
No use in risking anything else to make sure this man knew I understood.
“Just to let you know, my former boss has all this information,” I said. “Just in case it should come in handy for anything later on. And as far as Zach goes, the fact that you would brand your own son a criminal just to have someone check up on him tells me two things.”
“And what two things are those?” Mr. Kent asked.
“One, that you have no desire to actually reach out to Zach. You only have a desire to have information on him. And two, you drank because you couldn’t stand the pressures of being a father.”
“How the hell could you possibly come to that conclusion?” he asked.
“Look at where we’re standing,” I said. “When it came down to being a good businessman, being a good father, or fusing the two, you chose.”
I watched Mr. Kent look around his opulent office before his eyes settled back onto me.
“Your son turned out to be nothing like you,” I said as the elevator doors opened. “Be thankful for that.”
“I am,” he said. “Trust me.”
His words took me aback, and I snapped my head around to look at him. Gone was the pompous and sophisticated Mr. Kent, and in his place was a crumbled, broken old man. Lines I hadn’t seen before appeared upon his cheeks and underneath his eyes, and I watched him age an entire decade right in front of me.
Then I saw something completely unexpected. I saw Mr. Kent wipe a tear away from his eye.
“Get out,” he said.
“Mr.
Kent, if you want to reach out to your son—”
“I said, get out.”
“He has that information on his computer for a reason.”
“If I have to throw you out, I will ban you from this property, Miss Conwell. Do not think for one second that my payment for your services is not refundable.”
There was that control again. I snickered and shook my head. I took one last look at Mr. Kent before I stepped in the elevator, and I watched him long enough to see him heave his shoulders.
Then the doors closed, and I left Mr. Kent to his thoughts.
Chapter 38- Zach
“What would you like to do today?” I asked.
Blithe stared at me with her icy blue eyes, but she didn’t answer me. Marlie and I had successfully moved all of her stuff in here while she was napping the other day, and then I listened in as Marlie explained to the little girl what was happening.
Marlie told Blithe that I was her father and that I wanted to spend some time with her, and that I was going to take really good care of her. I could still picture the fear in Blithe’s eyes as she drifted off to sleep in her mother’s arms, and the confusion written all over her features when she woke up and saw her mother was no longer there.
“Mommy?” Blithe asked.
It ached my heart that she wouldn’t let me in, but it killed my soul that she kept asking for Marlie.
“Mom’s gone for a little bit, but I promise you’ll be safe here,” I said.
“Is Mommy okay?” Blithe asked.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. How much had Marlie talked Blithe through? Blithe knew her mother was sick, but I wasn’t sure if she knew just how serious it was.
In the whirlwind of moving her things in and trying to carve out a space for her in my cabin, it didn’t occur to me to get the finer details on that. I was too preoccupied with scanning the notebook she left me and organizing all the documents on Blithe. I hadn’t really taken the time to ask Marlie anything.
“Mommy’s not feeling very well,” I said. “So, I’m going to take care of you for now.”
“Until Mommy gets better?” Blithe asked.
Holy fuck, this was going to be much harder than I imagined.
“No matter what happens, you will always have me, okay?” I asked.
I watched Blithe lower her eyes into her lap as she played with the ruffles on her dress.
“Would you like to go to the playground?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Are you hungry? There’s a place in town that has great milkshakes.”
Again, Blithe just shook her head.
“Are you tired? Would you like a nap?”
The little sniffle that came from underneath the ringlet curls covering her face broke a part of me.
“Would you like me to leave you alone?” I asked.
Finally, I got her to nod.
I got up and grabbed one of her blankets. I found her stuffed rabbit, and then I reached for the stack of movies Marlie had left with me. They were all Blithe’s favorites.
“I’ve got your blanket and your rabbit.”
“Buddy,” she said.
“That his name?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, your blanket and Buddy,” I said.
“Thanks.”
She curled up on the couch with her blanket and tucked Buddy underneath her cheek. Then I pulled out a DVD with the name ‘Inspector Gadget’ written on it.
“You wanna watch this one?” I asked.
She shrugged. I stuck it in the player and got the show playing before I left her alone. I walked up into the loft I was clearing out for her bedroom and started rearranging everything. I shoved my mattress down the metal staircase to make room for the bed I had ordered for her.
I started putting together the three-drawer dresser I’d picked up in a store, hoping it would give her a place she felt she could store her things. I peeked over the loft railing every now and again to check on her, just to make sure she wasn’t in too much distress and alone.
I understood that she needed space, but I wasn’t going to allow my daughter to cry by herself.
Eventually, she fell asleep. I could hear her light snores coming from the couch, and the sound made me smile. I continued to organize her stuff, making the lofted part of my cabin as nice as I could. I had a corner for all her toys and a separate corner that housed her art desk.
I put her clothes in the dresser drawer after I finished putting it together. I even took her toiletries and arranged them in the bathroom so she could reach them.
I wanted to make this space as much hers as it was mine. I wanted it to be obvious that this was her home, too. I wanted her to know that her stuff was welcome so that she would know she was welcome here, too.
A shrill cry caught my attention, and I sprinted back into the living room.
“Blithe?” I asked. “Are you all right?”
The little girl was crying in her sleep. She cried out with her hands in the air. Her eyes were shut, and her body was mostly still, but she was obviously in distress. I sat on the edge of the couch and gathered her in my arms, holding her as she rode out her night terror. My tears rained down on her soft little cheeks as I pulled her into my chest.
Not knowing what else to do, I sang to her. “You are my daughter, my only daughter. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, Blithe, how much I love you. Please don’t take my daughter away.”
I sang into her hair as she pushed against my body. My arms wrapped tightly around her, and I could feel her waking up. I sang her the song my mother always sang to me whenever I got upset at night, and whenever I battled my own nightmares and woke up frightened and alone.
Hearing my mother’s voice always brought me reassurance, and I hoped, eventually, I could do the same with my daughter. With Blithe.
“Mommy’s gone,” Blithe said as she cried into my chest. “Mommy’s not back.”
“I’m so sorry, Blithe,” I said as tears choked my throat. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”
“Mommy’s sick, and Mommy’s gone.”
So she did know about her mother’s condition.
“I promise you, I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you,” I said.
“Why Mommy?” she asked.
I felt Blithe shift against my body as her cheek made its way to my shoulder. She laid her head down onto me and forced her forehead up underneath my cheek. I laid my skin gently upon hers as her legs locked around me, her arms holding onto my shirt as her breathing began to even out. I could feel her tears wetting my skin as she sniffled into my ear, tears a four-year-old should never cry because of a pain she should never understand.
“I don’t know, Blithe,” I said. “I don’t know why Mommy. But I do know why she brought you to me.”
“Why?” Blithe asked.
I looked down into the eyes of my little girl and saw her fear reflected back at me. I saw my bold features strewn across her face, accented by the gentle features of her mother. Like how her nose crinkled as she cried and how her cheeks reddened at the slightest exertion.
She might look like me, but she had the emotional disposition of her mother.
“Because your mother knew I could take care of you. Because your mother knew I could love you. I’m your daddy, Blithe, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure you have everything you need.”
Her head settled back onto my shoulder, and I leaned into the couch cushions. I figured she would scramble away from me and wrap herself up in her blanket, maybe dive for her stuffed bunny and go sit in another chair. I rubbed the back of my small, frail daughter, and instead of getting off me like I thought she would, she reached down for her blanket and pulled it over us both.
She nestled into me, and I looked down at her. Her eyes were glued to the television screen, but they quickly grew heavy again. I rubbed her back until she fell asleep. One hand was clutching my shirt while the other hand was clutchi
ng Buddy, and I stayed rooted to the couch so Blithe could take the restful nap she deserved.
Because she deserved better than what my father had given me.
Chapter 39- Paige
“I hate shopping,” I said.
“I know. You hate everything that is at all girly,” Kami said. “But thanks for coming out anyway.”
“What are we looking for again?” I asked.
“I need a few more things for my personal kitchen, and I want a new outfit.”
“Two very random things that’ll require multiple stops,” I said.
“Yep. I want plenty of time to talk with you and pick your brain about your next move.”
“My next move?”
“Yeah. You know, finding another job. Working for me. Doing your painting. Do you even remember the past forty-eight hours?”
I made a face. “I don’t want to. Does that count?”
“Uh oh. You meddled again, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t meddle. I’m not a meddler.”
“Paige, you’re the queen of meddlers. If the meddlers of the world had a ruthless leader, it would be you.”
I made an offended sound. “I didn’t meddle. I got answers.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed as we walked into the kitchenware store, and I knew I was about to lose Kami. Her eyes were bulging from her head, and I could see her migrating to the copper pans.
I followed her aimlessly around the store as she gawked at everything, then snubbed her nose at all the price tags. It was the same routine every single time. We came in, she found shit she liked, she looked at the price tag, then she went home four hours later to buy it online from some retail warehouse.
I didn’t know why the fuck she even went into stores anymore. She never purchased anything.
“Okay, so. You were saying you didn’t meddle even though you did. The last thing I remember you telling me was…” She trailed off.
“Seriously?” I asked. “You can’t even remember?”
