Page 127 of Bennett

Theo didn’t flinch. “To save her,” he said, his voice raw. “I didn’t even think. I knew about the fund through a buddy on the admin team. I figured it was just corporate fluff. Money nobody would miss for a few weeks. I didn’t know your dad was the one signing off on disbursements.”

Bennett’s jaw clenched.

Everything in him rebelled against the justification. Against the image of his father taking the fall for something he never did. Dying in prison while Theo built a new life.

But beneath all of it, deep in his gut, a bitter truth seared.

If Laurel were in danger—like she had been downstairs a few hours ago—he’d do whatever it took to protect her.

Lie. Steal. Burn the world down.

And he hated how much that made him understand.

He blew out a breath and looked away, one hand scrubbing hard down his jaw. “I get why you ran. I even get why you did it. But you should’ve come back the second you knew. You should’ve stood next to me at that damn grave.”

Theo nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

Bennett’s chest felt too tight for the breath he took in. He could barely process the shift in tone between them, but it was as if something had been exhaled, heavy and long overdue.

“You let me think he broke,” Bennett said, the words coming softer now, but weighted with years. “Like he gave up.”

“I know.” Theo’s voice cracked. “And I’m sorry for that most of all. But he made me promise not to come back. Not to confess. I didn’t want to and told him that, but your father could be so damn stubborn at times…”

Bennett looked away, throat working. His father had died carrying a secret meant to protect someone else’s future. He’d always been selfless like that. Quiet in his sacrifices. Steady. Strong. And, yes, so damn stubborn.

God, he missed him.

The silence that followed didn’t cut like it had before.

It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t exactly forgiveness. But it was something.

And maybe that was enough—for now.

Laurel’s voice broke the stillness. “Where are Lexi and your daughter now?”

Theo’s shoulders twitched. The flicker of pain in his eyes was fast, but it was real. “Lexi died in a car accident before our daughter turned one.”

Jesus.

If Bennett’s chest hadn’t already been wrung dry, that would’ve done it. He closed his eyes for half a second, grounding himself with a slow breath.

He imagined Theo, twenty, grief-stricken, raising a baby alone while carrying the weight of a lie he hadn’t even fully understood at the time. It didn’t excuse anything, but it explained too damn much.

“What’s your daughter’s name?” Laurel asked gently.

Theo hesitated for the first time, like saying it might make it heavier somehow. Then he looked up. “Claire.”

Bennett stilled. His heart rocked hard against his ribs. “You named her after my mother?”

Theo’s voice was quiet. “Yes.”

That one word hit harder than anything else had all day.

Because for all the lies, the silence, the years lost—that was the part that rang true.

A kind of penance. Or maybe just a promise.

Bennett swallowed hard and nodded. Just once.