Page 31 of Return By Fire

Since I came to expose what I believed to be was wrong. Why haven’t I? I don’t know. I have all the “proof” I need, even if I haven’t met Jennings’s child in person.

Kevin is still nebulous to me. Just a name, not a face. Just like he’s been for the last twelve years.

I can no longer deny it. I’m part of the Secret Keepers. Why haven’t I told Jennings about his child? Why haven’t I ever picked up the phone with the intent of telling him this? Much more easily than Kara, I could call him. Loyalty to our friendship demands I do.

What’s stopping me?

I could be noble and say it’s the fact that once I make the call, Kara’s and Kevin’s lives will be changed, but I’d be lying. As much as I could argue with myself —and I do—that Jennings should have known a long time ago, who am I to judge?

I didn’t do it either.

Some would say the only people whose business it is would be Kara, Jennings, and Kevin. Without question, Kara and Maris would debate that fiercely. I disagree, but that’s because I know my brothers—then and now.

Their loyalty to one another is one of the reasons I refuse to let any of them go. I know them inside and out—the good and the bad. I’m not blind to their faults—Christ, especially Nick’s. But they are good men.

Especially Jennings. Despite having had an apathetic childhood, he'd be a good father.

On our recent trip to tour Old Town St. Augustine, I broached the topic with Dean. He deferred. When we were in an area called Five Points, his whole demeanor closed down. He even asked me if I was spending time with him to get information for Jennings. I quickly disabused him of that notion.

No, Dean Kevin Malone is an entirely different problem. He pierces me with a look with his golden eyes and I’m weak. He’s quickly becoming my Kryptonite, and I’m sure as hell not as strong enough as Superman.

Dean’s firm on the fact it’s Kara’s decision, that what she’s endured because of Jennings is a form of torture. I’ll never vocalize it after his accusation I was spending time with him because of it, but couldn’t it be argued keeping a child from his father is equally cruel? Besides, what about the rip tide this will cause to the people who will be affected by the outcome of a decision made almost eleven years ago not by both parents, but one?

I’ve come to the conclusion there are no answers. All there are is more questions. Every day they keep piling up and they’re eventually going to fall down all around all of us until we finally have to address them.

If there’s one thing I know, it’s this—love isn’t self-indigent. It’s self-sacrificing.

Despite the fact I hide behind this larger-than-life persona around people I let in, I’m scared. I open up so infrequently that I have quite a bit of love to lose by holding onto the secrets I’ve acquired.

Regardless of the outcome.

I set my journal down and close my eyes. I let the sea breeze pull me under its seductive lure. Maybe a good nap will give me some perspective.

* * *

I’m not certain how much time has passed but when I wake, I feel boneless, replete. I don’t know how I missed his boarding, but I feel Dean’s length lying against mine. Somehow in the course of my nap, I’ve curled myself against him, even hooking a leg over his lean hips. I can’t remember a time I’ve woken up with a man—even after having had some fairly incredible sex—where I’ve felt this buoyant. I manage a raspy, “Hi.”

His hand has been smoothing up and down my back, not saying anything for the longest time. Then he admits, “I didn’t mean to read it.”

My body locks. “Read what?”

“I went to move it and saw my name.” Dean’s swallow is audible.

“Dean, what did you read?”

“I assume it’s your journal,” he admits bravely.

I rise until I look down into his remorseful eyes. My voice holds a lethal edge. “How much of it?”

“From the ribbon to where your pen was leaving ink blotches...”

I straddle him and bite back a frustrated moan when I realize he’s hard as a rock. Leaning down, I snatch up my journal and find the referenced location. My eyes close in relief. It was just today’s entry. Not some of the other passages. Even though these were private, those are for my eyes only.

For now.

“You had no right.”

He reaches up and grabs my hips. My cheeks flush at the contact. He snarls, “I know. Don’t you think I know that?”

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