His jaw worked as he clenched his teeth, his eyes turning hard and cold. “He was protecting his brother-in-law.”
“What?” I sat back, my thoughts spinning. “Anne’s brother? The woman you were sleeping with?”
“Fucking,” he corrected harshly. “Everyone in Anne’s family is in the mental health field. The whole f**ked-up lot of them. She’s a shrink. Did any of your Google searches dig that up?”
I nodded absently, more concerned with the vehemence with which he said the word shrink, practically spitting it out. Was that why he hadn’t gotten help before? And how much did he love me to make the effort to see Dr. Petersen despite his loathing?
“I didn’t know it right away,” he went on. “I couldn’t figure out why Lucas lied. He’s a pediatrician, for chrissakes. He’s supposed to care about kids.”
“Screw that. He’s supposed to be human!” Rage filled me, a white-hot desire to find Lucas and hurt him. “I can’t believe he could look me in the eye like he did and say all that shit he said.”
Blaming Gideon for everything … trying to drive a wedge between us …
“It wasn’t until I met you that I finally started to get it,” he said, his hands tightening around my waist. “He loves Anne. Maybe as much as I love you. Enough to overlook her cheating and cover up for her brother to spare her the truth. Or embarrassment.”
“He shouldn’t be practicing medicine.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“So why is his office in one of your buildings?”
“I bought the building because his practice is in it. Helps me keep an eye on him and how well he’s doing … or not.”
Something about the way he said “or not” led me to wonder: Did he have anything to do with Lucas’s less profitable times? I remembered when Cary had been taken to the hospital and how special arrangements had been made for him and for me, because Gideon was such a generous benefactor. How much could he influence?
If there were ways to put Lucas at a disadvantage, I was certain Gideon knew them all.
“And the brother-in-law?” I asked. “What happened to him?”
Gideon’s chin lifted and his gaze narrowed. “The statute of limitations ran out for me, but I confronted him, told him if he ever went into practice or laid a hand on another child I’d set up an unlimited fund dedicated to prosecuting him civilly and criminally on behalf of his victims. Shortly after that, he killed himself.”
The last was said without inflection, which made the hairs on my nape stand on end. I shivered with a sudden chill that came from inside me.
He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me, but he didn’t pull me into him. “Hugh was married. Had a child. A boy. Just a few years old.”
“Gideon.” I hugged him, understanding. He’d lost a father to suicide, too. “What Hugh chose to do isn’t your fault. You’re not responsible for the decisions he made.”
“Aren’t I?” he asked, with that ice in his voice.
“No, you’re not.” I held him as tight as I could, willing my love into his tense, rigid body. “And the boy … His father’s death might have prevented him from experiencing what you did. Have you thought of that?”
His chest lifted and fell roughly. “Yes, I’ve thought of it. But he doesn’t know what his father was. He only knows that his dad is gone, by choice, and he’s left behind. He’ll believe his father didn’t care enough about him to stay.”
“Baby.” I pulled his head toward me, urging him to rest against me. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t make excuses for Geoffrey Cross and I knew Gideon was thinking of him, as well as the boy he himself had once been. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I need you to stay, Eva,” he whispered, his arms finally coming around me. “And you’re holding back. It’s driving me crazy.”
I rocked gently, cradling him. “I’m being cautious because you’re so important to me.”
“I know it’s not fair to ask you to be with me”—his head tilted back—“when we can’t even sleep in the same bed, but I’ll love you better than anyone else could. I’ll take care of you and make you happy. I know I can.”
“You do.” I brushed his hair back from his temples and wanted to cry when I saw the longing on his face. “I want you to believe I’ll stay with you.”
“You’re afraid.”
“Not of you.” I sighed, trying to pull the words together in a way that made sense. “I can’t … I can’t just be an extension of you.”
“Eva.” His features softened. “I can’t change who I am, and I don’t want to change who you are. I just want us to be who we are—together.”