him when Kaden died.
I swallowed and said, “Why don’t you hate me?”
He stopped rolling the wire around my hairdryer, and placed it on the desk.
“I’m not doing this in a hotel room, Lane.”
I sucked up my fear.
“And you aren’t leaving here until you answer my question,” I countered. “I don’t want to have our talk right now, I just want to know why you don’t hate me when I have given you every reason to.”
The muscles in Kale’s back tightened before he turned to face me, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “I’ve never hated you, and I never will,” he simply said with a shrug of his shoulders. “You mean more to me than any other living person on this planet, and if you think after not having you in my life for six years that I’m just going to ignore you and play some stupid game, then you’ve got another think coming, kid.”
I felt my eye twitch. “I’m not a kid anymore, Kale.”
The eyes I loved so much dropped to my chest, then lowered until he was leisurely drinking me in. It made me feel weak; one look from his whisky-coloured eyes and I was done in.
“I can see that,” he mused.
I swallowed and felt in my heart it was the right moment for me to say what I had been carrying around since last night.
“Kale, I’m so sorry about Kaden.”
He went silent for a long time.
“Who told you about him?” he asked after a deafening silence.
I looked down to my feet.
“My dad. I was at my Aunt Teresa’s and Uncle Harry’s grave the night before the funeral, and he showed me . . . showed me where Kaden was buried. I saw you and Drew at the plot yesterday after my uncle’s funeral, and I wanted to go over to you, but I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“Look at me,” he said after a moment.
I exhaled before looking up at him, hating that his expression had changed to one of sadness.
“Thank you for your condolences about my son.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to be formal . . . not about this.
“I saw his picture on his headstone . . . He was adorable,” I whispered, my eyes still closed. “He had your nose and lips; he even had your tiny birthmark on his neck.”
Kale’s breathing picked up, and I hated myself.
I opened my eyes but kept them downcast. “I’m sorry, Kale. I’m making everything worse. I’ll go and finish packing—”
I turned to walk into the bathroom, but Kale shot across the room and grabbed hold of my arm. “No.”
I turned my head and looked at him. “No, what?”
He stared at me with his puppy-dog hazel eyes. “Don’t leave. I’m not mad at you; I was just remembering my son. You would have loved him. He was the most perfect being I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, Lane. He was . . . everything.”
A sad smile curved my lips. “I’ve no doubt. He was your son, Kale. He wouldn’t be anything less than perfect.”
“You think he looked like me?” he asked, surprised. “I think he looked more like his mum.”
I smiled brightly. “Men always see the beauty of the mother in their children’s faces. He was the perfect mix of you both. You and Drew created someone astonishing.”
Kale’s eyes bored into mine. “Thank you.”
I nodded. “My pleasure.”
“Do you want to see a video of him?” he suddenly asked, his eyes alive with pride. “I have loads of videos, and pictures of him too.”
“Like you even have to ask,” I beamed. “Gimme.”
Kale smiled at me and quickly dug out his phone from his pocket. “I only have a few videos and pictures on my phone, but I’ve loads more backed up onto flash drives and storage sites that I can show you if you want.”
A daddy protecting the physical memories of his pride and joy. It hurt me that memories were all he had.
“I’ve got time to see every second of him, Kale,” I assured him.
He did something that shocked me then: he reached out and put his arms around me, and pulled my body into his. It wasn’t a hug of sorrow and sadness like the ones he’d given me over the past couple of days; it was a hug of promise. A promise of what I didn’t know, but whatever it was, I felt it in my bones.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said into my hair.
It took me a second, but I lifted