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Chapter Eleven

Birch

“Cyprus, wait!” Yelling, I jumped up from the table, ready to chase her out the door.

“Let her go, Birch,” my father barked, lunging forward to grab my arm. “Just let her go.”

Jerking my arm free, I glowered in anger. I felt my cheeks heat and my muscles tighten as we stared at each other.

I was angry with my father because all of this was his fault, and he couldn't fucking see it; either that or he was too stubborn to want to see it. He never listened to me when I told him he would regret everything we did. I wish he had.

Every single thing that was happening had been because of him and the choices he had made. I hadn't asked for any of this, this was the hand I was dealt. But he could have given her options, he could have done things so much differently. He didn't.

My father claimed it all came from someplace good, a place that was warm and full and didn't have any shadows like the world we lived in. He tried to tell me that he was giving her something better than what she already had, but who was he to judge?

I didn't need her to tell me what was bothering her, I already knew.

It was written all over her face, embedded into her body language and the distance she put between us. When I looked her in eyes as she sat at the table all I could see was sadness. Her gaze was flat and cold, lost in thoughts I hoped she would never have to experience.

But here we were, the silent battle raging in unspoken words and soundless gestures.

She fucking knows. . .

“Don't you see what's happening? Can't you get it through your thick skull that this isn't what you think it is? This has nothing to do with the police questioning her, it goes so much deeper.” Shaking my head, I chewed up my words and spit them in his face. “This is all because of you. I'm going after her, I won't let you stop me. Someone has to fix what you broke.”

His eyes crinkled, mouth twitching at the corners. He didn't speak, he stood stone still, hands opening and closing by his side. I thought he was going to hit me again, but he stepped back, nostrils flaring wide as he nodded his head with a light flick.

With firm strides I started for the door, only to be stopped in my tracks. “I know you love her, and I know she loves you. Hopefully she can forgive me, I never meant to hurt her.”

Looking back over my shoulder, my father's eyes had softened. The black globes that were normally there had turned gray, his shoulders rolled forward and his body slumped. I knew he felt what he was saying. He might not ever speak the words out loud, but he knew that he fucked up all those years ago.

He tried to make up for it, he tried to give her as normal of a life as he could. He wanted her to start over, to escape and find solace with us. But that came at a cost, it came with thin emotions that were so brittle a single cough could snap them in half.

“Her forgiveness isn't up to me, Dad.”

I didn't wait for him to answer, and I didn't really care if she ever forgave him or not. All I wanted was for her to understand that despite what she knew now, I loved her, I've always loved her since the very beginning.

How I felt about her wasn't part of the scene we created. My feelings were real, I felt them in every inch of my being. I couldn't live without her.

The lie my father created had nothing to do with what we built together. I didn't pretend for all this time just to keep her close, I didn't fake these emotions to keep her thoughts from floating back into the past.

I loved her. It was that simple.

Searching the yard, she wasn't by the pool or my mom's flower garden. When we were growing up and Cyprus felt sad, she always gravitated to my mother's garden. I'd find her sitting in the flowers, staring up at the sky, her cheeks cloaked in the sadness my father created.

And I never said a fucking word to her. I'm such an asshole!

She had told me once that it made her feel like she was being hugged by her birth mother. She couldn't explain why, all she could say was that it felt like her mother's arms were the petals, soothing her skin.

Scanning the trees, the thought crossed my mind that she might have gone out to the pond. It was quiet there, a good place to collect your thoughts and ground yourself again when it felt like the world was spinning on its axis, trying to throw you off.

“Cyprus!” calling out, I followed the game trail through the thick trees, listening for her.

Where the hell is she?

She couldn't have gotten that far. The woods around our home were thick and dense, you had to stay on the path or they'd gobble you up. Then it hit me, and I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it to begin with.

Shit, I know where she is.