Page 100 of Wayward

“A sociopath?” Dad sits on the tufted stool that Mike had pulled up to the makeup table to use as a desk. “She wants power, but that’s not saying she’s a?—”

“She got in deep with Zambrano, dragging both of your companies and you with her. And when you suspected something was up and divorced her, she tried to kill me. It’s not the first time, either.” Fuck, it slipped out. I had no intention of confronting Dad with the accusation that Susan . . .

“First time?” He tilts his head at me.

“Were you having an affair with Susan when Mom died?”

“No.” He over-squares his shoulders. It’s his tell.

I widen my eyes at him.

“I never touched Susan when your mother was alive.”

“But you spent more time with her than Mom, right?”

“She was my assistant, and I was growing the business. Of course I spent more time with her than your mother. She never wanted to go anywhere.”

“Because . . .” I wait for my dad to fill it in.

“She was raising you and Emily. Yes, yes, but I didn’t touch Susan.”

“Who found Mom?”

“Susan, but that doesn’t mean . . .” Dad looks over my head, and his mouth goes slack.

There’s a hole in my chest. I’ve already processed the idea. But watching Dad do the same thing? That’s a whole different level of hurt.

“She didn’t want me to read the note.” Dad grips the side of his face.

“Note?” Because that’s the first time I’ve heard mention of a suicide note.

“Susan. She read it for me.”

“And what did she do with it?”

“She kept it. Said I could read it later. But anytime I asked over the years, she said it would send me into a spiraling depression. And I fucking believed her.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. There’s no way we’ll ever know.” My stomach clenches, but I mean it. I’m not going to hold him responsible for my mother’s death. The evidence is long gone—or maybe it isn’t. That’s a good use of Dad’s money. I pull him into my chest in a tight hug. The same kind he used to give me as a child.

Chapter 43

Mother Harbor

Zane

“That’s the pitch I played on growing up.” I point out the window, and Haley leans over my lap. There’s a group of lads kicking a ball around, and it reminds me of me and my mates as a kid. The rain has cleared, and the grass glows an iridescent, electric green.

“It’s so lovely. Just what I imagined. Bet it feels good to be home?” Haley squeezes my hand.

And I laugh, because there were a damn lot of nights I thought about this moment. Seeing my old neighborhood. Being on these streets. “This isn’t home to me anymore, Little Bird. It’s special; don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled to be seeing my sister and mum soon. I might jump out of the car before we park. But this isn’t home. You’re home, and I don’t care if I sound like a proper headcase. It’s sappy, but it’s true. I love you.”

The car stops at the building next to my mum’s, like I asked it to.

“I love you too. Now let’s go meet your mother and Ruby.” Haley has her hand on the door handle, but Sam’s already out and on the sidewalk, Penny beside him.

“Haley,” Sam says, taking her hand in one of his own, Penny’s leash in the other. I tumble out after her. Easton and Calvin somehow got stuck in the rear. Calvin’s holding on to a crate containing a piss-angry Pepper. The lot of them head up what I’ve always thought of as my street. I’m a few steps behind them, watching the chaos I’ve learned to love walk away from me.

Haley stops short. “Zane, you coming? Is everything okay?”