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“Your dad must be a very talented chef…” Instead of answering me, Went makes a neutral noise in the back of his throat that tells me his feelings for his father are complicated. I can relate. “So what happened? With your dad and Damien’s mom—I mean obviously something happened or—”
“Or I wouldn’t be here?” I hear a click while he recaps another marker before swapping it out. “My mother happened. When she met our father she decided she wanted him—so she took him.” There’s bitterness in his tone. Maybe a little shame. “She didn’t care that they were married or that Suzi was pregnant and neither did he. There’s barely a year and a half between Damien, Kota and me.” There’s more. I know there’s more, things he’s not telling me but I don’t push. I have a feeling I’ve pushed Went as far as he’s willing to go.
“Your turn,” I tell him, my guts twisting, the squeeze of it making me sick because I already know what he’s going to ask me.
“Why is your father making you marry him?” The press and slide of the marker tip on my shoulder lifts for a second. “And don’t give me that I’m a Barrett and he’s a Morris bullshit—there’s more to it than that.”
For a second I don’t know what to say—or maybe I do. Maybe I just don’t want to say it because I’ve never said it out loud to anyone but Luke and he doesn’t count. Not really.
“He’s punishing me.” Staring out across the water, my throat starts to ache and my vision swims. “For what I did to them.”
The pressure lifts again.
“Them?” This time when he recaps his pen he doesn’t reach for a replacement. “Who’s them?”
“Luke and our mother…” I want to turn around to look at him but I can’t because the shame I heard in his tone only moments ago burns in my gut. “My father is punishing me because I killed them.”
FORTY
Wentworth
I stare at the dragonfly I drew on her shoulder, trying to wrap my head around what Kaitlyn just told me—that her father is forcing her to marry that Morris asshole because he’s punishing her for killing…
The day I met her, she told me Damien was like a brother to her—the only one I have left.
“Luke is your brother?” I ask, trying to put the pieces together. When she nods, gaze still aimed across the water, I sigh. “And the woman we’re hiding this semi-permanent tattoo from?” I’ve never met Kaitlyn’s mother but I’ve heard both Damien and Kait talk about her so I know she’s alive. “She’s not your mother?”
Kait shakes her head before taking a deep shuddering breath. “My mother—my biological mother—was named Emma Garrett. She died, giving birth to me. Hillary was her cousin. They got married when I was I was a year old and had Abbey the year after that. Hillary loved Luke like her own and she’s always been good to me. Kind. She’s never once treated me like—”
Gripping her by her biceps, I lift her, turning her to face me. Too startled to protest, Kait sits between my legs, hers draped over mine. Eyes wide, T-shirt clutched to her chest. “Your biological mother died in childbirth and your father blames you.” I don’t know why it makes me so angry. All I know is that when Kait nods her head, it’s a good thing Tom Barrett is two-thousand miles away. “And your brother?” My throat feels tight. Like I can barely breathe.
“I…” She looks away, her bright blue eyes glassy. Face pale. Fingers working and digging themselves into an anxious tangle around her shirt. “I was seventeen. It was summer vacation but that didn’t really matter. I still had work to do so I was up early—before everyone else.” I have a feeling it’s always been like that. Kait is always up and working before everyone else.
“Go on.” I give her a nod, trying not to sound angry because I know she’ll automatically think I’m angry at her.
“When I came downstairs, Luke was in the kitchen. He was home on leave from the army. Barely home a week and he…” She looks away again and shakes her head. Untangling one of her hands, she swipes it across her cheeks. Looks embarrassed and guilty when it comes away wet. Like mourning her brother’s death isn’t something she’s allowed to do. I add that to the list of things I’d like to kill her father for. “He offered to do my chores for the day so I could go back to bed and I let him.” Dropping her hand into her lap, she sighs. “I went back to bed and when a voice in my head told me to go after him—to stop him from leaving—I ignored it.” Her eyes, red-rimmed from crying, find mine. “I went back to sleep and didn’t wake up until I heard Hillary screaming downstairs.”
Shit.
“What happened?”
Instead of answering, she shifts her gaze past me, toward the house. “These woods used have deer,” she tells me. “We don’t keep cattle up here so my father and Luke could hunt. Northpoint used to be my father’s hunting retreat until Luke decided to discharge from the army. He gave it to Luke. He had another year on his contract. After that he was going to come home. Move in here and ranch full time. Learn how to run the place so when it was time for my father to retire, he’d be ready.” Even though I want to press her, I don’t. “Tending to Northpoint has always been my job.” She gives me a weak smile. “I’d be up here scrubbing toilets and dusting shelves, whether you were here or not.” The smile fades away slowly. “Luke was on his way up here to take care of my chores when a deer ran in front of his truck. He swerved to avoid it and went over.” I remember the narrow road Damien took that brought me here—the sheer, hundred foot drop off, trees clinging to the side of the mountain. A clear path of broken treetops, cut through the middle of them.
“A deer ran in front of your brother’s truck and your father blames you for that too?” I can’t keep the anger out of my tone this time. When she flinches back, I reach for her, hand on either side of her face, I pull her close and hold her in place so I can hook my gaze into hers. Make sure she’s listening to me. “That’s bullshit, Kait,” I tell her bluntly. “A fucking deer killed your brother—not you.”
“It doesn’t matter. It should’ve been me.” She shakes her head between my hands, her eyes filling up with fresh tears. “It was supposed to be me. Would’ve been if I hadn’t been so lazy and selfish—that’s what he said.” Reaching up, she tries to push my hands away but I don’t let her. Shaking her head on a sigh, she looks away. “When I came downstairs my father looked at me and said first your mom and now Luke. It was supposed to be you and if you weren’t so lazy and selfish, it would’ve been and he was right. It was supposed to be me. It should’ve been—”
I don’t let her finish.
Shifting my grip, I lift her off the dock and haul her into my lap. Arms wrapped around her, I hold her while she falls apart. Cries so hard and for so long I start to worry that she’ll never stop. Start to wonder if she’s ever let herself grieve the loss of her brother and a woman she never met but has been convinced that she killed anyway.
It seems to take forever until she’s all cried out. Until she’s still and quiet and I can breathe again.
Looking down at her, I unwrap my arm from around her waist and lift a hand to push her hair away from her forehead. Pressing my lips against it before I look down at her, I say the same thing I’ve been saying to her since the day I met her.
“Stay.” Before she can argue with me. Tell me she can’t or give me a list of reasons she shouldn’t, I shake my head. “You can. You can stay if you want to. I’ll sleep on the couch—”
“All the way naked?” A slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth and the sight of it makes me dizzy with relief because it means she’s not completely broken.