Page 43 of Sacrifice
“What’s gotten into me?” He slams his empty bottle down on the table. “You’re quick to want to talk about what’s gotten about me. How about what’s goin’ on with you?” He scoffs.
“You’re gonna have to clue me in here because I have no idea what you’re getting at here. Clearly, you’re pissed about something, so spit it out already.”
“Spit it out. He wants me to spit it out.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, how about we start from the beginning? Why don’t we start with how you’ve been seeing Haelynn? Are you going to sit here and pretend like it’s not supposed to bother me?”
My mouth drops open, gaping at him. I rub my hand over my jaw, confused. For a second I question if they know each other or have some sort of history, but it doesn’t make sense.
I know Haelynn wouldn’t lie to me. Certainly, that’s not what has him so upset.
“What the hell are you talking about? Botheryou? Why would my relationship with her bother you?”
He sneers. “Oh, so Marc Krate’s daughter mysteriously drops into town and I’m supposed to be okay with my best friend going off and hooking up with her?”
The name Marc Krate rings clear through my mind. It’s not a name that would be relevant to most people, but our jobs and the history our families have with the Krates are no secret to us.
This is far more personal for Gage than I ever realized.
Marc Krate is the reason Gage, his namesake, is dead. He’s the reason he is who he is today, sitting right before me.
I have no words, staring at him with my jaw slack, unable to form a response to argue with him other than I had no idea. He can’t think for a second I had any inkling I knew who her father was.
“Shit,” Alex mutters under his breath.
It’s like someone handed me a live grenade, and with a pull of the pin, everything in my world just blew up around me.
Chapter Seventeen
Haelynn
Makenna didn’t bat an eye when I asked if I could finish out the week working from home. I was still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened, and being home felt like the best place to do so.
My number one priority right now needs to be focusing on Huxton, but I can’t simply forget my conversation with Gage outside the studio, either.
He warned me to stay away from him and his friends. Although I know he was mostly talking about Corbin, Makenna was lumped into it too. I get he was looking out for his friends, but I still can’t understand why he felt he needed to protect them from me of all people.
The way he looked at me, as if I was some sort of toxic imprint on their lives, and the only way to fix it would be to stay away from them entirely.
I hadn’t planned on doing this, but when my mom called asking to take Huxton for the night, I jumped on it. It gave me the night to myself. Something that didn’t happen often these days.
I made the quick drive to her place with my windows down. The moisture in the air was thick. The news said there’s a big storm rolling through the Midwest. The sky was already beginning to turn a mixture of midnight blue and dark purple. It’s an ominous feeling, much like how I’m anticipating the rest of the night going.
I push the thought out of my mind when I pull into my mom’s driveway. She must’ve been waiting at the door because as soon as she sees us, she pushes the door open to greet us. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head and her robe is tied around her waist.
I fully expected to walk in and find her on the couch,Wheel of Fortuneplaying on the TV, with her candles lit around the house.
“There’s my sweet boy.” She grins. Huxton takes off past me, racing toward the door.
“Hey Huxie, can you do me a favor and play in the toy room for a bit? I need to talk to Gram for a minute.”
My mom’s eyes narrow at me. She must sense the change in my demeanor. I haven’t been able to get this conversation off my mind since the run in with Gage.
All my life I believed what my mom told me about my biological father. I sat and stewed on this forever last night after I put Huxton to bed, but there were still bits and pieces from my memory that still weren’t adding up.
I vaguely recall being about Huxton’s age the first time she brought me back to Iowa. I’ve never forgotten because it was the first, and only time, I’ve visited a prison. At the time I had no reason to think any differently. She told me we were seeing a friend of hers, but there’s something about the trip I couldn’t forget.
I remember the tears in his eyes and the look on his face when she introduced me to him. He had a tattoo near his temple, but the smile he wore on his face was a mixture of pride and sadness.
Toward the end of our visit, I could sense the change in her demeanor. I’ve only seen her this upset a few times and all of them for good reason, except for this day. I don’t know what spurred it, but it was like a switch was flipped and she was ready to leave.
