Man of Honor (Battle Scars #3) - Diana Gardin Page 0,86
Richard after that?”
“She thought about it. She went looking for him, brought you with her. But he’d graduated from school and had started living and working in Athens. He was engaged to someone else. She was heartbroken, and she left before saying anything to him. Then she came back to the house where she raised you. It belonged to her mother, who died right before you were born. She was a wreck then, and none of us could ever help dig her out of it. So we eventually just stayed away.”
I stand up then, because if I don’t move I might burst into flames. Angry, raging flames that’ll burn up anything and anyone in my path.
“I’m so sorry, Drake.” Sandy’s voice drops to a whisper. “What she was like after that…she was never the same person. She didn’t want my help or anyone else’s. So I stayed away. It broke my heart, but I stayed away.”
I give her a hard look. “Yeah, I was pretty broken, too. But I guess you couldn’t have known about that, because you ‘stayed away.’ Thanks for the information. I have one more question.”
She looks miserable. “Anything.”
“What was Richard’s last name?”
She looks into my eyes, sees the intention in them. “His last name is Walsh. Richard Walsh.”
I don’t know what I said to her after that. I just knew I needed to get out of there, breathe some fresh air, and let the thoughts floating around in my brain either eat me alive or guide me toward my next step.
As soon as I slam the Challenger’s door behind me, I lean my head against the steering wheel and roar. It’s a scream of pain, of regret, and of loss. It’s a shout of pure pain for my mother, for the life she was deprived of. If Timothy Sullivan wasn’t sitting somewhere in a prison cell, I would have hunted him down in that moment.
But as it is, I can’t get to him. So I beat my hands against the steering wheel of my car, and I roar.
I roar until the shouts turn to sobs.
26
Mea
Wrapping my hands around my decaf latte, I allow the steam from the mug to waft up and warm my face. Despite the end-of-March warmth outside, I’m shivering right down to my bones. Without even thinking about it, one hand drifts down to my belly. I rub it gently.
When Aunt Tay sits down in front of me, I smile at the woman who opened her home to me when I was just a messed-up teenager she’d never met before. Sure, we were family, but I will never be able to thank her enough for taking in Mikah and me.
“How are you, Tay?” I ask, my voice sounding haggard and weary to my own ears. “It couldn’t have been easy, hearing from that man.”
She shakes her head, shuddering at the very mention of my father. “He’s an awful man, Mea. I’m so sorry I didn’t rescue you from him sooner. I didn’t know…”
I place my hand over hers. “I know you didn’t. Now tell me what he said to you.”
She takes a deep breath. Scanning the coffee bistro, she notes that it’s mostly empty. The patrons are taking advantage of the weather and sipping their drinks and eating their sandwiches outside today. We’re almost the only customers inside. She lowers her voice anyway.
“First, he put on his charming act. He was contrite, saying that he learned a lot while he was locked away and that he knows how many wrongs he has to right. He asked for me to give him your contact info so that he could apologize for the pain he caused you.”
Now I’m even colder than I was a few minutes ago. I rub my arms, trying to circulate my blood so that they don’t go numb. There’s no way Carlos Sanchez wants to “right his wrongs.” If he wants to know where I am, it’s for no other reason than to hurt me.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to gather myself. I haven’t been to a doctor, and I know I can’t be more than a month along, but stress probably isn’t good for the baby, right? I have to think about more than just myself now.
“You didn’t give him my number or tell him where I am, right, Aunt Tay?”
She shakes her head, a violent motion that sends her long dark hair flying. Her skin is a shade darker than Mikah’s and mine. Our mixed heritage