Page 34 of Judgment Day

“Or gone outside to play and tripped over a log or fallen in a hole?”

Another nod.

“You didn’t shake the drink, or put the log there, but you ended up with a mess or scraping your knee because of something you couldn’t control.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and looking him in the eye. “You asked if the queen knew I was here, but you never asked why.”

“Why are you here?”

I scooted to the edge of the sofa, as close to him as possible. “Because I’ve gone long enough without knowing you. Because I am your father. And I did go to prison. But it was something like those things I just explained, something I couldn’t control.” And the day I got out, I vowed nothing and no one would ever hold any power over me again.

“Is that why you never came? You’ve been in prison?”

I could have lied. Maybe I should have. But being here, staring at him, seeing myself in him, knowing all the years I’d missed made me angry. I might not be capable of being the hero he needed, but I refused to be his villain.

“I never came because I never knew.”

“Oh,” he said softly, quietly, like he’d realized he’d been a secret, and it twisted my heart, fucking fractured it.

I slid off the sofa and squatted in front of his chair. “But I know now, and I’d like to take you home with me for a little while. If you like it there, you can stay as long as you like.”

“What about Isla?”

Isla. So, that was her name.

I glanced over my shoulder at the woman whose eyes were filled with tears. “Isla can come too.” She was a constant for him, familiar. He needed her. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t do a background check to make sure she was who she claimed to be.

Ciaran smiled as he nodded. It was small but genuine. “Okay. I think I’d like that.”

I’d like that, too.

“You just need to bring your favorite things. We’ll buy the rest when we get there.”

TWENTY ONE

Over the nextcouple of months, I spent every day, every hour, every free moment, getting to know my son. I introduced him to the horses the same way my father had done with me. He was gentle and soothing when he spoke. He was mature and wise beyond his young age. Every day, he amazed me with something new.

“He reminds me of you when you were that age,” Mrs. McTavish said one afternoon as I was walking into the kitchen. She was standing by the sink, running water over a strainer full of fresh raspberries.

I smiled and plucked a raspberry, then popped it into my mouth. “Let’s hope he turns out better than I did.”

She stopped rinsing off the fruit and smacked me on the shoulder. “Let’s hope he turns out exactly like you did.”

Isla was with Ciaran in the library. Aside from the stables, that was his favorite place on the grounds. Like father, like son, I supposed. Mrs. McTavish had welcomed them both with open arms and a wide smile. She had a way of making people feel as though they’d been here all their lives. She’d done the same with Lyric.

Some days, the guilt gnawed at me. I wondered if things could have been different. Then the anger crept back in, whispering in my ear, reminding me why things ended this way.

I tugged my tie loose as I entered the library. “What are we reading today?”

Isla sat on one sofa and Ciaran on the other.

“Great Expectations,” he answered, holding up the book.

“Ah, Dickens.” I settled in beside him, then smiled at Isla. “I’ll take it from here. Thank you, Isla. Mrs. McTavish has tea ready if you’d like some.”

She gave a tight smile as she stood to leave. “Of course. Thank you.”

I didn’t feel the need to ask permission to spend time with my own son in my own home.

“What do you think?” I nodded toward the book.

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