Page 22

Chapter 22

Constantine

I swiped my palm down my face before it fell dead at my side, forcing her to let go of my arm. This can’t be happening.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, you could say I know him.” As if things can’t get any worse. “You’re telling me your brother works with Carter? And you know Carter as well?”

“Yes.” She stepped back, clearly sensing I wasn’t happy about this news. Yeah, unhappy was putting it mildly. “Colin knows him, too.”

Kill me now. “Carter’s spent time with my son?” I grated out.

“Yes.” I hated the tremor of trepidation I’d inspired in her response. “Are you okay?”

Not even a little bit.

“Um, well, how do you know him? Your paths cross in the military or here in New York?”

“His wife.” The full weight of my sins from years ago hit me hard. More payback for my past. “I know him because of her.”

“Rebecca or Diana?”

Right, he was married again. “You knew Rebecca?”

“No, we never met. Easton asked me to go to New York with him to Rebecca’s funeral. He hates funerals. They set off his PTSD. But he was close to Carter, and he couldn’t not be there for him, and I couldn’t not be there for my brother. So, we went with him. It was our first time meeting Carter, actually.”

“Are you saying Colin was with you, too?” My heartbeat couldn’t possibly go any faster than it was now. This can’t be happening.

“He’s always had a thing about New York since he watched The Ghostbusters a little too young and begged to come. That trip convinced him he wanted to move here for college.”

I lifted my hand, on the verge of losing the last vestiges of my sanity. “You’re telling me you were both at the funeral?” I stared at her, unblinking, and she nodded. “Were you at the wake held at her home after the funeral? Colin, too?”

Her hand went to her stomach as she put two and two together. “You were there, too?” The pain in her voice stretched out her words, obliterating what was left of my control.

I fell back onto the couch, and she went down with me.

“You were there, and we didn’t see each other?”

I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, drawing my face into my palms. “I wasn’t at the wake long,” I said against my hands. “Maybe only five minutes.”

“This is . . . I just . . . our chance was stolen from us again,” she whispered.

The sound of her sniffling overwhelmed my disbelief, and I kicked my feelings aside to take care of her.

Sitting up, I drew her into the home of my arms where she belonged.

Even if God or fate or just shit luck had kept us apart this long, all that mattered was they were with me now. I had to focus on what was right in front of me.

Her fingertips bit into my back as she held me. “I don’t understand how we could have been so close to meeting. Yet still so far.”

Because I didn’t deserve you then, and maybe I don’t now. “There’s something else you should know,” I told her once her tears slowed. “I was there to offer Carter help in finding Rebecca’s killer.”

“Really? Wow, um, Easton helped Carter, too.”

Of course he did. What the hell? “I didn’t help. Carter turned down my offer and kicked me out. That’s why I wasn’t at the wake long.”

She sat back, swiping away her tears. Her eyes and nose were red, and it was destroying me to see her so sad and not be able to take the pain away.

“Why would Carter do that?” she asked while sniffling.

I closed my eyes, hating myself all over again for what I had to tell her.

“Because I dated Rebecca in college. That was the only relationship I’ve been in, only it wasn’t even real.” I swallowed, still unable to look at her. Too ashamed. “My father needed me to date her to get closer to her family and help close a big deal. I used her because he told me to, then I broke her heart.”

I opened my eyes and stood abruptly, walking over to the windows to look at the city.

She kept quiet, and I gave her another minute to process my shitty behavior from twenty-plus years ago.

Palm on the glass, I continued, “Carter was her friend at the time, and let’s just say, he’s not my greatest fan.”

We may have operated together once since then, but I had enough sense to know a man like Carter didn’t let bygones be bygones because of an apology.

“I was only twenty, and I did whatever my father said.”

I doubted my attempt to rationalize my way through this would help, but I had to try. I didn’t want her hating me for this—there was plenty else she didn’t know about yet to hate me for.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” I added defensively, worried she’d really despise me. “I wasn’t that horrible of a person. I felt guilty about everything. Dropped out of school shortly after that and joined the Navy.”

I lowered my hand from the glass when I realized she was coming to join me at the window. I hesitantly faced her, and she shocked me by lifting her hand to my cheek.

Still not running. Why not? I was well aware I deserved more than a door slammed in my face.

“You were young.” Was she really defending, not lecturing, me? “You can’t beat yourself up for the past.” She tipped her head, quietly staring at me while pushing her hand up to the side of my head.

“How can you be so forgiving?”

She looked out the window, probably pondering what to say or how to explain the fact she was still there despite my confession.

“I raised your son. He’s so much like you. I wouldn’t want him upset years later for mistakes he made when younger.” Eyes back on me, she forced that strange feeling of hope back inside me, asking, “So, why would I want that for his father?”

Father. I’m the father of your child.

Relief filled me, even if the feeling of being forgiven probably never would.

“You’re a good man.” Her free hand went to my chest and over my heart. “I know that. I can feel it.” She whispered, “Skeletons in your closet or not, I don’t care. I know your heart because I know our son’s. So, just?—”

“Fucccck,” I hissed, unable to take much more of her goodness. I didn’t know how to handle any of this. Not her acceptance. Not her forgiveness. Not any of the emotions coming along with it.

I removed her hands with the sole purpose of drawing her against me for a hug.

“I’ve got you,” she promised, embracing me back.

And I gave in. I gave her the weight of my problems. Let her accept them like I’d never let anyone do, so I could experience what it was like to breathe without so much pain crushing my rib cage, vise-gripping my heart. I gave myself sixty more seconds to not be as strong as usual before untangling myself from her embrace.

I had a lot more to tell her, including the fact Carter and I worked together a year and a half ago, agreeing not to kill each other for the joint op relating to my sister’s murder. But if I told her that, I’d have to reveal the fact that the body my brothers and I had dropped the first time had been the wrong one.

“I have a feeling when Easton finds out who I am, he won’t love the idea of me being in your life or Colin’s.”

“Well, lucky for me, it’s . . .” She stopped talking, her gaze pivoting somewhere behind me.

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Colin’s low, raspy voice had us backing away from one another to face him. “I was coming to ask you something, but I heard you two talking, so I hung back, and . . .”

How much did you hear?

“That was you,” he repeated, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes. “That was you I saw that night at Rebecca’s wake. You were the guy Carter yelled at to go away.”