Page 213 of Things We Left Behind

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he demanded gruffly.

“I’m having a lot of feelings right now, and I’m not sure which one is going to win out,” I said from behind my hands.

“You’re angry with me,” he surmised.

“I’m not angry that you spent seven figures giving me a few more weeks with my father, assface. I’m beyond grateful for that, and I have no idea how to handle it. But why would you do something like this without telling me? Why hide this?”

“Perhaps you should try taking deep breaths? Outside. Far away from my office.”

“What else?” I demanded.

“I’m not following you,” he said, gaze darting toward the door.

I closed the distance between us, gripped his damn tie, and looked him in the eye. “I’m giving you this one, last opportunity to be honest with me. What else have you paid for or donated or created for my benefit without ever telling me while still treating me like I’d ruined your life?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I inhaled sharply. “So Yoshino Holdings, the Stella Partnership, and the Bing Group aren’t ringing any bells?”

His face hardened.

“I’m in the middle of a very busy day—­”

I gave his tie a yank. “I don’t care if you’re in the middle of your own lifesaving appendectomy, Lucifer. We are having this conversation.”

His silence was stony, and it damned him.

“The Yoshino Holdings Foundation funded a $100,000 grant that allowed the library to upgrade our computer system and start the tablet and laptop lending programs. The Stella Partnership awarded the library a $75,000 grant to extend our community program offerings including creating a position for Naomi. And the Bing Group funded a generous donation to cover the rest of the building costs of the Knox Morgan Municipal Building, which coincidentally houses my library.”

“If you’re finished—­”

“Lucian, all those organizations are named after cherry tree varieties. And all of them are owned byyou.” It was all coming together into one unimaginable picture in my head.

He scoffed. “I don’t know where you get your information, but I can assure you—­”

“I’m alibrarian, you hulking pain in the ass. It’s my job to know things! What I don’t know is why you would be fundingmydreams withyourmoney when, as you so eloquently put it, you can barely stand the sight of me.”

“I don’t need to explain my tax write-­offs to you.”

“I don’t know if I want to throw your stapler through your window or at your head,” I muttered, stepping away from him and starting to pace.

“I’d prefer the window,” he said behind me.

I glanced down as I passed his desk and spotted something familiar in the still open top drawer. “Oh my God,” I said, snatching up a pair of broken glasses.Mybroken glasses. They’d fallen off during a Halloween skirmish in Knockemout, and I hadn’t been able to find them.

“Stay out of my things,” Lucian said, starting for me.

I held up the glasses. “If I mean nothing to you, why did you give me more time with my dad? Why did you donate so much money to my causes? And why the hell are you keepingmyglasses that I lost at Book or Treat last fall inyourtop desk drawer?”

“Lower your voice, or security is going to carry you out of here,” he growled.

“Say the words, Lucian.”

“If you’re going to waste my time speaking in riddles, you might as well sit down and drink some damn water,” he said gruffly, heading for the crystal decanter on the conference table.

“You love me, you idiot. You’ve loved me since we were kids. You loved me even when I broke your trust. You loved me after I fixed it. Youstilllove me.”

He stopped midstride and turned to glower at me. “You didn’t fix anything. You nearly got yourself killed. And if he had gotten out for even an hour, he would have made sure to end you. That’s what he did to things I cared about. There is no court order that would have protected you from him.”