Page 69 of Into These Eyes

Anika’s head snaps toward me, her brows creasing. “He can’t be any worse than the man who killed my mother, then let you take the blame for it. Right?”

I let out a long breath. “My father … our father, believes I’m guilty. I was your age when it happened, and he turned his back on me.”

She stares at me for the longest time. When her eyes flare with anger, I’m sure she’s imagining what that might feel like if she were in that position. Empathy and disappointment quickly follow. “Aren’t there any decent fucking people left in this world? Is that too much to ask?”

Wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close, Jamie says, “Well, there’s two pretty decent people right in front of you. And we’re both here for you, okay?”

Anika deflates with a sigh. “I know.”

“So, how about you give Gavin and I some time to discuss it?”

“Now?” she asks, hopeful.

“Yes, now.”

Satisfied, she grabs her phone, three sandwiches and her drink. “Fine. I’m going out to the pool.” She heads toward the hallway, then turns back. “And no fucking around.”

Once we hear the sliding door slap shut, Jamie plucks up her mother’s letter, along with my bundle, and tilts her head for me to follow.

In her bedroom, she closes the door and sets the letters on her nightstand. I hover at the end of the bed, aware that we’re here, alone. And instead of pouncing on her, I’m stuck in a mindfuck of emotions and new information.

Stacking a few pillows against the headboard, she strides over to me, takes my hand and leads me to her side of the bed.

“Get on,” she instructs

I do as she says and settle my back against the pillows.

She climbs on, straddles my lap and cups my face as her eyes search mine. “Overwhelmed?” she asks.

“Yeah.” Of course she knows exactly how I’m feeling.

Resting one hand on my chest and the other at the back of my neck, she traces soothing circles. Loving me. The way she did when I told her about her mother’s last moments alive. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. Already, my mind begins to quiet.

“Whatever you need, Gavin, I’m here. If you want me to give you space, if you want to talk, if you just want to be held, I’ll do it.”

“You’re doing exactly what I want. You always do.”

After a few minutes of holding each other, I let out a deep sigh and move my hands to her hips, waiting for her to ease back so I can see her eyes. “I guess we should talk. For all we know Anika’s looked up his number. She’s probably talking to him right now.”

“I think what you told her put the brakes on that.”

“I don’t want to stop her from seeing him,” I say honestly. “I just wanted her to know … well, it was all over her face. She thinks he’s some sort of solution to the problems she had with your father. She needed to know he’s just as capable of hurting her.”

Jamie bites her lip, taking in my words. “But Gavin, every single person we care about is capable of hurting us.”

I tuck a few stray hairs behind her ear, reluctant to admit she’s right.

“Apart from your new little sister, would you like to hear what else I got out of Mum’s letter?”

“I always want to hear what you have to say.”

Smiling, she slips her fingers into the hair at my nape and massages as she talks.

“What I read was a tragic love story. I know they were deceptive when it came to the people they were married to, but fate had kept them apart. Even so, if everything had gone the way they planned, Mum was right. I would have hated her. There’s no way I would have understood.”

“I find that very hard to believe. You’re full to the brim with understanding.”

“Not that sixteen-year-old girl,” she says with conviction. “That girl would’ve seen a selfish woman who cared more about herself than the family she was tearing apart. That girl knew nothing about that kind of love.”

“And you think differently now?”

“So differently.”

Even though I think I know the answer, my heart cranks up. “Why?”

“Because now I understand how she felt … how they both must have felt.”

Damn her. Softly and tenderly, I kiss her, putting every ounce of love I have for her behind it. She melts into me, letting me forget everything in this moment.

When I feel like I’ve thoroughly kissed her, and all that’s left is to go further, I pull back, knowing I can’t use her love to hide from the inevitable.

Before I can say anything, she asks, “Do you really feel the same way about your father as you did when you were eighteen?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” I tell her honestly. “You have to remember, when it comes to him, I’ve been in a state of arrested development. Nothing’s changed in the sixteen years we’ve spent apart.”

“And the letter doesn’t make you think something could?”

“Why should it? It doesn’t change who he is.”

“Are you sure?” she presses.

There’s something in her eyes that’s imploring me to understand whatever it is she’s read into that letter. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t want to put ideas in your head. Maybe I’m the one not seeing things clearly.”

“I doubt that. What do you see?”

“It made me think of the trial. When your father testified that you hit him before you left the house. Knowing what we know now …”

She trails off, her gaze studying me intently as her words hit home.

“Jesus,” I whisper. “The things I said to him about the love of his life … if anyone said the same to me about you, I’d destroy them.

But Jamie, I was his fucking son , and I was grieving my mother.

He made it sound like he’d just met your mum.

He didn’t take the time to explain anything. ”

“And would eighteen-year-old you have listened if he had?”

I scoff. “Course not.” Funny how it’s so damn easy to see other people’s problems clearly, but when it comes to my own, I’m totally blind. “That boy only saw a heartless man who couldn’t care less about what was left of his family.”

“Sounds a lot like the girl I used to be.”

I seriously don’t think she understands how amazing she is. She’s not making me feel like a fool for the boy I’d been back then. She makes me feel like I was a typical teenager, reacting in a completely normal way. Just like her.

“Well …” she says carefully, “now that we know they were deeply in love, imagine what it must have been like for him to know they were finally going to be together … and then, she gets murdered.” Her fingers twist in my hair as she thinks. “I mean, what sort of state of mind would you be in?”

My grip tightens on her hips. She’s right. “If anything happened to you … Christ, I’d be totally fucked. I wouldn’t survive.”

She rests her forehead on mine. “So, do you see?”

I swallow over the tightness forming in my throat. Because maybe I do. And I really, really don’t want to. It’s easier to continue to hate him, to just leave things as they are. Isn’t it?

But even as those thoughts streak through my brain, I remember telling Jamie the same thing when she found out I was innocent. If she’d thought it was easier just to leave things alone, where would I be now? Not here, that’s for sure.

“He wouldn’t have been able to think straight,” she says.

“The police would have bombarded him with questions, timelines, the state of your relationship with him. I bet he barely even knew what was going on. He would have been in shock, if not already in the grip of grief. And the police were telling him they had her killer. That his own son was caught in the act. That there was no question of his guilt. How does someone who feels like they’ve just lost everything deal with that? ”

“I’d say they either shut down, or get fucking angry.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.” She pauses for a moment, gently smoothing down my beard with her palms. “I wonder if, over time, he realised he’d been wrong to turn his back on you? Maybe he still believes you killed her, and even if it changes nothing, isn’t it worth hearing what he has to say?”

She’s not demanding anything or judging me. She’s simply making me think. Only problem there is, she makes me want to do better, to try harder to see things from a different perspective. And I suppose, most importantly, to get over myself.

“When do you think you’ll stop being so damn incredible?” I ask.

For the first time, she looks away and mumbles, “I’m not.”

Gently touching her jaw, I force her to meet my eyes again. “Yes. You. Are.”

Her gaze skitters away. I wait patiently until it returns to mine.

“Jamie, this isn’t just a surface level thing for me. The way I feel about you goes deep. All the way down deep. Maybe even scary deep.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispers. “Not one little bit.”

“I am,” I confess.

Unease flickers behind her eyes.

“Not of you, J.” I take her hand and press it to my chest. “Of what you do to me in here. I’m scared that you can change my heart and mind about things I resolved to never change my mind about.”

“Are you saying—”

“Anika should meet her father. Before she leaves.”

“And you?” she asks, her hand pressing against my chest.

“I don’t know.”

“What if … I call him, and put him on speaker? He won’t know you’re listening.

You’ll be able to hear his voice, his reactions.

Maybe that’ll give you a bit more insight into who he is now.

But Gavin,” she rushes on, “you don’t have to do that either.

It’s totally up to you. Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back. ”