Page 17 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)

He closed his eyes and pressed his palms to his forehead. A dull pain throbbed in his temples. Tension headache, or mild concussion. Perfect.

The door creaked. His eyes snapped open.

“Corbin?” A gentle rap of a knuckle.

Luna stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob.

She’d dressed simple, professional. Damp hair curled around her shoulders, a few ends clinging to the fabric of her shirt.

He’d never noticed her long eyelashes before.

Or the contour of her sunkissed cheekbones.

He did know those lips though. The way the upper one had that tiny divot that looked like the M-shaped seagulls he’d drawn as a kid.

He caught himself. Glanced down. Waved her in. “Looks like you found me.”

“Sorry I’m late.” She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Paperwork.” She gestured to a photo identification card clipped to the small pocket on her shirt. A colored strip on the side signified her clearance as a special consultant. Weapon carry permissions.

“That call from your boss must have been impressive. I’ve never seen them move that fast.”

“You know the federal government. Lightning fast.” She pressed her lips together in a tightly coiled smile. “What are you doing?”

“Just ... trying to make sense of this mess.” He busied himself by thumbing through the stacked files, searching for the one full of handwritten notes he’d scratched out during countless interviews.

“It won’t take long to run you through what I have on Carlie.

Truth is ... it’s not much. I could use a fresh perspective. ”

“I didn’t know you drank.”

He glanced up to see her eyeing the glass of whiskey still sitting on his desk. “I don’t, actually.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“It’s just...” He exhaled. “Just something I do. To prove to myself that I don’t need it. That I’m in control.”

“You only have one?”

“None.”

Luna’s eyebrow went up. “You pour it and never drink it?”

He nodded.

She took a slow step toward him. “Why do you torture yourself?”

He looked at his drink and worked his jaw. “I’m not—”

“Seems like a waste of money.”

“You’d rather I drink it?”

“I’d rather you not be so masochistic.” Luna dragged the empty chair around and sat down beside him. “Is this about your father?”

He let his eyes fall to the amber liquid.

He could smell the oak. The spice. Feel that pull.

The promise of numbing his emotions. “My father was an alcoholic. It ruined him. Ruined our family.” He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know.

Nothing the whole world didn’t know. “He couldn’t control himself, but maybe . .. maybe I can.”

Once, he thought he could handle it. A drink here, a drink there.

No big deal. Until it was. Until the anger he kept in check started slipping through the cracks.

The night it all came to a head, he had been drinking.

Too much. Too fast. Someone pushed him too far, and his fists were already swinging before he registered the fear in the guy’s eyes.

That was the moment. The moment he saw his father in himself.

The moment he knew he was a breath away from becoming the man he swore he never would.

He blinked, shoving the memory back where it belonged.

“You think you’re destined to follow the same path?”

He met her gaze, surprised by the lack of judgment in her eyes. “Don’t you?”

She shook her head, her dark hair swaying. “No. I don’t.”

“You don’t know me, Luna. Not anymore. You weren’t there. You didn’t see...” The shouting, the fights, the smell of whiskey on his own breath.

“I saw enough. I know what it’s like to grow up with an alcoholic parent. My mom ... she was sick. She needed help. But your dad...” She hesitated. “It was different, wasn’t it? He wasn’t just sick. He was ... cruel.”

“He terrorized us. My mom ... me ... criminals he’d arrested.

Everyone.” Corbin shifted in his chair, trying to find a position that didn’t pull at the burns on his arms, then rested his forearms on his thighs.

He took a slow, controlled breath. “I spent my life trying to be the opposite of him. Did everything I could to prove I’m not like him.

” He laughed. “Even changed my last name. I chose ‘King’ because of Stryker. The kind of man I wanted to be. Honorable. Trustworthy. Principled but compassionate.” Everything his father wasn’t.

“I just ... I don’t want to hurt anyone.

Not like my father did. I don’t want to be him.

I have to know I’m in control. No matter what. ”

She was quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on his. “You’re not him, Corbin. You’re not.”

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that he could escape the shadow of his father, that he could forge his own path, one that led to redemption, to peace, to love.

“Look...” She leaned closer. “I know you’ve got this ... this thing about your dad. You think you’re doomed to repeat his mistakes. But that’s not you.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know. It’s in my blood. The anger—”

“I see the good in you. The part of you that wants to help. To protect. The part of you that’s nothing like him.

” Luna’s hand rested on his arm. Light but firm.

He didn’t pull away. He could feel the warmth of her hand through the fabric of his shirt, a warmth that spread through him.

“Forgiveness isn’t about deserving but about grace.

About letting go of the anger, the bitterness, the need for control.

You’re trying to do it alone, but you can’t fight this in your own strength. ”

“Yes, I can. I can do this.”

She shook her head. “You need God, Corbin.” A newfound conviction resonated. One he’d never heard from her before. “You need to rely on his strength, not your own. He can help you break free from this. From your father’s legacy. From the fear.”

He was quiet, absorbing her words. He stared at her hand resting on his arm. She was right. He’d seen it. In Blade’s life, in Stryker’s life. The power of faith to heal, to redeem, to transform. But he’d always kept God at arm’s length. Afraid to surrender, afraid to trust.

Before he could speak, Luna said, “No one should have to testify against their own parent. I’m sorry for everything you went through with your father.” Her eyes filled with a compassion he didn’t deserve. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you afterwards.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. For walking away when you told me you were pregnant. For not being there for you those nine months. For not proposing and being the man you needed me to be. Everything.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since she’d walked back into his life only hours ago.

Seeing her as the woman she’d become, not the one he’d known.

“I was selfish. Immature. Scared. Scared of becoming my father, scared of failing you, failing...” He swallowed hard.

“Her. I thought I was doing the right thing. Protecting you. But I was just ... running, and...” He worked his jaw, fighting the emotions leaping up. “I’m sorry, Luna. So, so sorry.”

He braced himself for her to stand and walk out.

To reject his apology and tell him some things couldn’t be forgiven.

But she didn’t. Instead, her hand squeezed his arm.

“We both made choices. Choices we can’t change.

” She pressed her lips together and looked down. He could tell she was fighting too.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb. He cupped her face, tracing the curve of her cheekbone. Her skin was soft beneath his touch. Warm like the sun on bare skin. She leaned into his palm, her eyes closing.

If only he could close the gap. Hold her. Make sure she was really there. But he held back. The wall. Years of hurt. He was terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing. Afraid she’d bolt again.

She drew back from his touch and opened her eyes. “Wow. I didn’t come here to preach at you, but I must say. This was better. So much better than ‘I’m sorry’ by the curb of a burning house.” She gathered the hair around her shoulders and used the movement to put more distance between them.

He stopped himself from reaching for her. She hadn’t rejected him. Hadn’t walked away. It was a start. Maybe he wasn’t as broken as he imagined. Luna had only been back a few hours, and she’d already seen something in him that he hadn’t seen in himself. She’d said he was strong. Good.

Nothing like his father.

But one thing was for sure. He had to stop walking on eggshells and do his job.

While he still had one.