Page 70 of Bone Dust

Tears sting my eyes, and I suck in a breath. Despite my best efforts to blink them back, twin tears race over my cheeks. Exasperation hits me, and my head falls back. Disgusted with myself, I wipe them away, then drop my chin and face him. He reaches for my hand, but I pull it back.

“There’s so much I want to say, but don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning. That’s always a good place,” he states flatly. As I hesitate, concern lines form on his face.

I try to steady my nerves as I gather the courage to speak. “There’s no easy way to say this.” I slowly raise my eyes until they’re locked with his. “Gigi’s your daughter.”

The news stuns him with its slap and his eyes widen with shock. “What?”

“She’s yours.”

His brow knits and his eyes bore into me. A second later his gaze falls to the can he’s holding, his fingers digging into the metal. “Bullshit.” He shakes his head as he looks away. “How?”

I reach across the table and curl my hand around his fingers. “Gigi was conceived the night we met. The night of the concert.”

His eyes meet mine. “That’s impossible,” he insists.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this.” My stomach twists into angst-filled knots. I can’t read what’s going on inside his head and I’ve never had a fondness for the unknown.

“How the hell?” He looks away as he wipes a hand over his face, then collapses back into the chair, giving me his full attention. “Explain.”

I swallow hard. Anxiety builds as I shuffle words to lay out a palatable explanation. Interlacing my fingers, I place my hands on the table in front of me like a child sitting properly in school.

“My friend, Candace, rented a room for my birthday. We wanted to drink and party it up that night. It was her present to me. When I won the contest, I received two VIP passes, and she was my ‘plus one.’ We didn’t know the band was staying at the same hotel.

After I met you, I was really down.” I force a weak smile. “I had a huge crush on you at the time, and the Meet and Greet was a disaster.”

His brows perk. “I can only imagine.”

“Candace and me … we drank so much that night. So much.” I close my eyes, slightly shaking my head in subtle disapproval at the memory. “I drank so much I was dehydrated. We were already drunk; we’d had more than our share at the concert. When we got back to the hotel room we had even more. Candace passed out, but not me. I couldn’t sleep. We’d already downed the waters in the room, so I went in search of the vending machines. You were there.” I look up at him.

“And?” He presses.

“It wasn’t until you came to town, and I saw you two together that I couldn’t deny it anymore. Drake was over, and I was regular like clockwork. I knew.” I pause for a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never expected to see you again. Was terrified someone would have seen us on the elevator and would pull me in for questioning. I was already going through so much because of my parents and, when Gigi came, she was …”

“Perfect.” The word falls from his lips like a whispered prayer.

Remorse hits me with tsunami strength. “I should have said something. I was so immature. I was scared. You’d overdosed and I thought there might be footage from hotel security that showed you with me. All I could think was that I wanted to talk to my mom. I needed to talk to her and tell her what happened. I knew she’d be furious, but I thought I could possibly be in big trouble, so what was a little more? Even though I knew she’d be pissed, I also knew she’d know the right thing to do. Knowing I was probably the last person to see you that night was terrifying. I didn’t know if I should go to the police or wait and see if they contacted me—I just didn’t know.”

“Were you questioned?”

“No.” I shake my head, wishing away the memories that followed.

“And you never got to talk to your mom, did you?”

Ian waits patiently for an answer as I struggle to stay composed. Finding a speck of courage, I look deeply into his eyes, seeking compassion and understanding as I try to make this right.

“I thought I was afraid when I left the hotel but nothing about that night seemed important once I got home. I don’t know when the police got there but they were all over my house. They might have asked a question or two because they asked where I was, but I remember little. The questions I do remember were more like what I was doing before I came home and found my parents …”

“Murdered? Holy shit.” He gives me an incredulous look.

“Yes.” My voice becomes whisper soft as my thoughts walk over their graves. Silence looms as we struggle with our thoughts.

“Gigi’s my daughter.” He whispers.

“Yes,” I reply softly.

“And there’s no chance Drake?—”

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