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Chapter Twenty-Five

Nathan

A few hours later, Tess is sitting in the matching high-back chair by the huge, baroque style bed, still nursing the stiff martini I made her half an hour ago. My oversize, plush terry robe swallows her small frame, and her legs are folded underneath her.

She’s shivering despite the warm room and the flames licking away at the LED fireplace.

I knew that the moment where she regained her memory would be hard, but I didn’t predict the chaos that would follow suit.

The two women who mean the world to me, in opposite parts of my house, both hurting deeply over the same event, just for different reasons.

I’ve just left Mom, who is still sobbing in one of the guest bedrooms, curled up in Lyle’s arms. They were meant to return to France together, but she'd made him wait in the car while she said a quick goodbye to Tess earlier.

Unfortunately, she walked into Tess’s meltdown, and we told her everything.

Mom never got over Ciaran’s death. The only way she managed to cope was to never talk about him, something I was only too eager to oblige her.

And barely an hour ago, not only was she then suddenly forced to confront her son’s death again, she also found out that he was murdered in cold blood.

And by the man who stole the love of Ciaran’s life and broke him, no less. The same man who is the son of Albert Blackwell, the cruel man who paid a pittance for her husband's struggling farm and then turned him into a farmhand. And then, Albert had thrown her and her young sons off the farm as soon as her husband died.

As if that wasn’t jarring enough, her surviving son is now in love with none other than Albert Blackwell’s granddaughter. Ciaran’s murderer’s daughter. That Tess was adopted didn’t seem to matter.

Suffice it to say, my mom didn’t take it well. I had to call Lyle in when she became hysterical.

And Tess, who was already struggling under the weight of guilt she carried, completely unraveled.

I drop to my haunches in front of Tess so I can meet her gaze in spite of her bowed head. “Tess?” She looks at me, her eyes green pools of hurt.

I hold her by her hips. “You know she didn’t mean those things she said, right?”

“I know. That doesn’t mean they’re untrue, though.”

“Tess, come on. You’ve got me. I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“How can you even look at me?” Tears clog her voice, and I can tell that she’s trying her best not to cry.

“Baby, I love you. Nothing can change that.”

She flinches as if those words have ripped into her, making her guilt and pain worse.

“My father killed your twin brother. Ciaran didn’t commit suicide. He was murdered by my father.”

“John isn’t your father, Tess. You’re not even related by blood,” I argue.

“We are by law,” she retorts. “He raised me for longer than your father did you. What do you call that?”

“Baby, you’re not responsible for his actions.”

“But I saw some of the weird things he did, and I chose to be silent rather than speak up because I was desperate for his love and approval. Like the ‘smelling salt’ crystals he’d hide in mom’s hot water bottle sack that we weren’t supposed to tell her about.”

Taking in a deep gulp of air, she forces herself to continue, “I suspected they came from his labs, and he was testing their effect on her. Now, at least two people have died because of me.”

“Tess, baby, please, do not do this to yourself. You were a child. You couldn’t have known they were deadly or that he was capable of murder.”

“How are you even okay with being with the daughter of a serial killer?”

My heart bleeds for how hard she’s taking this news. She knew the facts already, but regaining her memory has made it all too personal and real for her, like she’s reliving everything all over again for the first time.

“Listen to me, Tess, from day one, I've admired and respected you and what you had so much potential to accomplish. The day you told me you overheard him saying it was a mistake to adopt you was the day you ceased to be his daughter, as far as I’m concerned. I may not have realized it then, but I think I was already forming a connection with you early on, and I needed to justify that in my subconscious so I could be the mentor you needed.”

She digests that information, but I can see that her eyes still retain that far away, dazed, and hurt look. There’s no getting through to her. Not yet.

“Caitlin is right. I don’t deserve to be the woman you choose to love.”

“Baby, Caitlin is grieving the loss of her son as if it just happened yesterday. Discovering you're a Blackwell was a harsh shock for her. I promise, she’ll come around. My mother loves you, Tess. She flew in from France to get five minutes with you, and afterward, it seemed like her world was set right again. I’m sure she’s already regretting her outburst.”

“I should go back.”

I huff out a steadying breath. Christ, this woman is stubborn.

“Go back where? Back to your house? To Boston?”

“No, I can’t stand to be in my apartment just yet. But I don’t think I should stay here, either. I’ll stay with a friend for the rest of my sick leave.”

“Isabel?”

She nods. “You remember her?”

“Of course I remember her. Now, do you remember what I said about how there was no turning back when I brought you here?”

She nods again.

“And you recall what you said to me?”

“Nathan—”

“Give me one good reason why I should let you go, Tess.”

“Because I’m in love with you. You’ve saved my life twice. Even when I didn’t realize it back at the Citrus Fest five years ago, you were saving me even then. You pushed me to become more. And now that everything else is falling apart, you’re the only thing I want to cling to.”

“So, stay with me. Move in with me. Let me love you back.”

“Don’t you see? You’re… too much. You’re everywhere. I can’t think two thoughts without them being about or related to you. I don’t know how healthy that is for me—us—right now that my mind is fractured.”

“Theresa, you can trust me with how you feel, even if you’re not sure what that is or if you should be feeling that way. I can take it, okay?”

She looks at me, and I want to cringe at the numb, disassociated look I see in her eyes. “What if I said I wanted space right now?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘space.’”

“I just want time to sort my shit out. Figure out who I am and what the hell I’m supposed to do with all this.” She gestures her hands around widely. “You, Caitlin, the police investigation and the media circus that’s bound to follow, KidStation and my job, and returning to Boston to finish school. It’s a lot.”

I straighten. I know exactly what she needs right now, and it’s not space.

Tess’s assertiveness is one of the reasons I love her. Trying to wear her down will only make her dig in her heels more because she’s freaking out and crippled with guilt and remorse.

So, I’ll give her what she thinks she needs. Fucking space.

“Alright. It’s a lot, I agree.”

“You do?”

“Hm-hmm. Which is why you have two weeks.” As soon as that time is up, I’ll be coming for her.

“Two weeks—”

“That’s the best I can do. I’ll be leaving for West Africa with Medecins Sans Frontieres to provide medical assistance there. I should be back in a couple of weeks. Have an answer for me by then, Tess.”

Her eyes go wide. I can tell she’s surprised by my sudden capitulation. And beyond that is also a mix of anxiety and desire. “Um… okay. But West Africa? Isn’t that too…”

“Far?” I supply.

“Dangerous!”

I shrug. “It can be sometimes. But we have a resident team there and safety protocols in place. I’ll be alright, babe. And I’ll be back before you know it.”

She shakes her head, and her honey-blonde hair flies into her eyes. “But… but that's so sudden! How long have you been planning this trip?”

Knowing that she won’t like the answer, I fight against the urge to deflect. “I always go once a year around this time. They've been expecting me for two weeks but I kept postponing it. I decided I was thinking of canceling this year's trip, but on second thoughts, this might be a good time to go.”

And bid a proper farewell to the team.

Because Tess will flip once she knows where I'm going. She's all for charity, but even she would draw the line there.

I take the tumbler from her hand and down the liquor. Then, I pull her into a reassuring hug. “Listen to me, I have a lot of commitments that take me around the world, but I would never leave you unprotected, unsatisfied, or when you need me. We’ll talk about what you’ve figured out when I return. Okay?”

She nods, holding me tightly. “Okay.”

“Now, since you’re looking to get clarity from Isa and Chris, you’ll need to tell them everything. Are you up for that?”

“I’ll have to be. They might have heard something, anyway. News of an arrested serial killer can only stay under wraps for so long.”

“True. Come on, get dressed. I’ll take you there.”