Page 17 of Impossible Rapids

Shawn’s eyes widened. Franz had never been grateful to Isabella for anything, thinking she stole his son from him.

“But you need to listen to me and internalize what I say right now.”

Shawn swallowed and nodded.

“Julie would be blessed to have a man like you by her side. I know we’re not into compliments and fluff, but you need to hear from me that you are incredible and those you let past your cold exterior know it. I’ve never known such loyalty, unselfishness, and strength to exist in one man. Grayson loved you. Mercedes loved you. I love you. Someday soon, Julie will love you.”

Shawn found his eyes getting wet and his throat tight. “Thank you, Franz.”

Then Franz threw his arms around Shawn and they hugged. It was healing and needed and it bonded them together even stronger. Shawn didn’t know that anything could bond him to Franz stronger than the love he had for him, Grayson, and Mercedes.

“I love you, son,” Franz murmured.

“I love you,” Shawn said back.

Then it got to be too much. Franz pulled back and chuckled. “Look at that. I’ve never been taller than you.”

Shawn laughed and helped him off the coffee table. They settled into the couch again, and Shawn ventured, “You’re doing all right?”

“It’s a gaping wound,” Franz admitted in a gravelly voice. “Every time I think about her, it aches. She was such a bright, happy light.”

“Sparkle and shine,” Shawn agreed.

Silence stretched, and then Franz said, “I know you’ve been worried about me. I’m doing okay emotionally. I’m not going to implode.”

Shawn glanced sharply at him.

“Yes, I overheard you and Julie talking yesterday.”

“Apologies.”

“No. I appreciate you worrying.” Franz studied his hands. “It helps to have the inheritance to stew about, and you and Julie. Focusing on what Lucas and Arianna might do and how we can expose them and keep everyone we love safe actually helps.” He lifted his hands. “That will be the first and last time in my life I admit that Lucas and Arianna produced anything good.”

Shawn chuckled.

“Did Isabella say anything about me when you spoke today?” Franz asked.

Shawn whirled to face Franz so quickly that his neck popped. He’d never heard anything but animosity from Franz or Isabella for each other.

“No,” he said carefully. She’d sent plenty of dagger looks Franz’s way though, which was not like his Mama T at all. She’d also said right after one of those glowers was noticed by Franz, ‘Be careful who you trust, my boy.’

Franz had enough stress and sorrow right now. He didn’t need to know Mama T had warned Shawn against him.

Shawn did trust Franz, and he trusted Mama T. They were incredible people, and he knew they both wanted the best for him and loved him. In his mind, it was a matter of not forgiving a past wrong and letting it fester. Franz had wronged Mama T horribly and Shawn would never tell her she should forgive him, but the pain of holding onto that hurt was hurting her and he hated that.

Franz nodded, his teal-blue eyes darkening. “I wonder if she’ll ever forgive me.”

Shawn was stunned. Maybe losing Mercedes had made Franz rethink the way he’d misused Isabella and his wife Nanette all those years ago. He knew Franz had sent a generous ‘child support’ payment to Isabella shortly after Grayson had found his father, but Isabella had taken pride in ripping it to shreds. Besides that, all he’d ever heard was the muttered, ‘That woman took my son from me.’

“Mama T is the most generous and loving woman,” he said carefully. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive you, but maybe if you apologized …”

Franz flinched and shook his head. “I recorded the Johns Hopkins and Virginia lacrosse game.”

Shawn wasn’t going to risk pushing Franz past emotional barriers tonight. He grabbed the remote and pushed the buttons to have the screen lower from the ceiling and get the game on.

Franz apologizing and Mama T forgiving him?

That was about as likely to happen as Julie forgiving him when she someday found out his marriage to Mercedes had been a business arrangement, and one more thing he’d hidden from her.

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