Page 103 of Possession

Her accusing gaze swung to me. In another moment, her fists would likely follow suit. “And were you ever planning on sharing any of that with me? Or were you just going to hide that like you’ve hidden everything else from me, you bastard?”

Chapter 25

Grace

No.

Not Philomena. I blazed past both men to the large picture window at the back of the house.

“Blondie…”

“Leave her,” Blake said softly.

At least this was one thing that made sense between us. I needed a second to assimilate all the information that had been thrown at me. He understood that about me. Probably because all he did was live in Thinkyville. Or was that Protectionlandia? Maybe Overbearing Park?

Right now, I couldn’t look at either of them. Every time I thought we were finally starting to make sense, that something was growing between us that could last—boom, I discovered there was yet another lie eating away at us like rampant Spanish moss.

Could we do anything that didn’t start on a lie?

Everything I thought I knew was shifting and shattering with each lie that came to light. Phil had been my rock even before my grandmother had died. She’d sold my first piece. She’d held my hand when I’d been too afraid to put something on one of those marble pedestals.

The picture with Grandmother and her still rankled. They’d barely stayed in a room together unless it was absolutely necessary. And even then, it was mostly hate-laced compliments buffered with moments of civility only because both women loved me.

At least I’d thought both women loved me.

Now I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know who I could count on. I’d trusted Jack instinctively the very first day I’d met him. A friendly face that felt like a brother I’d never had. Someone who could help me navigate the choppy waters of this crazy relationship with Blake.

I thought Jack was in my corner.

But he’d been loyal to Blake. He fell into the protector role way too easily. Both of them were ready to pat me on the head like I was an idiot that needed coddling. I didn’t want to be the damsel—I sucked at it. I wanted to know the truth.

Even if that truth was as ugly and roiling as a winter storm off the coast. These two men who I’d thought were pieces of a new bedrock that I could maybe, just maybe build on—all of it was crumbling like sand.

I knew there were too many mentions of Philomena in the diary. I knew the picture was hinky. How many times had I picked it up and stared at it since we’d found the diary pages?

How could I complain about Blake lying to me when all I did was lie to myself?

Now my brain was exploding with all this new information. How the hell did both women know Blake’s father? Now everything made sense when Blake had closed off as I looked through the pictures.

The cast of characters was starting to make sense—even if it was terrifying.

The coincidences were too much for anyone to ignore.

Blind trust only went so far. How could I not question everything? I didn’t think my grandmother could possibly have been involved, and yet here we were.

Hands settled on my shoulders. His scent surged around me like a wave. As always, anticipation warred with an odd sense of peace. I wasn’t quite sure how he did that, but right now, I couldn’t question it.

It was one of the few things that made sense just now.

He brushed his cheek against my hair. “This has been a less-than-ideal night.”

“Understatement, pal.” But I curled my fingers over his hand. “I’m tired of the lies.”

“No one wants to hurt you.”

“And yet you all keep doing so.”

He turned me around and cupped my cheeks. “I would do anything to keep you from harm. I’m not sure you understand that.”

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