“Shay…”
She blinked as she stared up at him and her lips parted the slightest bit.
“Shay,” he tried again, trying desperately not to show the agony on his face, but he was failing.
Totally fucking failing.
She released his shirt and stepped back. “Just say it,” she said way too calmly. Before he could, she clenched her hands into fists, slammed them into her thighs, and screamed, “Just say it!”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. When he opened them again, he forced himself to meet hers and admit, “You. You were affected.”
Her breath hissed from her as she absorbed his words. As their meaning settled in her brain.
“What did you do?” Her question was thick, raw. She sucked in a breath and on the exhale shrieked, “What did you do?”
He winced and turned away.
He couldn’t face her. He didn’t want to see the pain of betrayal on her face.
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me!”
Jesus fucking Christ. He tried to swallow but it was impossible. He had to force out each damn word. Each one a sliver of broken glass slicing his throat. “You ain’t wrong.”
It was done.
He heard her feet, then the rush of air right before she grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face her. She surged forward, pounding her fists on his chest, sobbing, releasing a wail so eerie it made his heart seize.
Anguish. Pure fucking anguish. Not only what he was feeling, but what was on her face. She wore a mask of pure grief and betrayal. Disappointment and anger.
He understood it. He did.
She had every fucking right to feel that way.
She continued to beat on his chest and he did nothing to stop her.
Not a damn thing.
She needed an outlet for her pain and he was it. Because he had caused that pain.
He had hurt someone he never wanted to.
But it was her tears, her uncontrollable sobs that rose from deep inside her, that slayed him…
Those tears were like acid. Burning his gut.
Each sob was like a gunshot wound to his chest.
When she fucking collapsed to her knees at his feet—a marionette whose strings had been severed—he wasn’t sure if either of them would ever be the same again.
“It was you? You did it? You…” A hiccup-sob jerked her body.
When she folded over onto herself, one arm pressing against her stomach, he squatted in front of her, trying to hold her, to help. To comfort her for something he had done. Because he didn’t know what else to do.
In truth, there was nothing he could do.
But as soon as he touched her, she screamed, “Don’t!” and slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me!”
The only time he ever felt so goddamn helpless was the very moment he discovered his mother on that kitchen floor. “Shay…”
“Don’t. Just don’t. Don’t you fucking dare!”
He reluctantly rose to his feet, scraped his fingers through his hair and stared at her on the floor. Broken. He broke her. It was all his fault. “Shay…”
She shook her head and lifted a shaky palm. “Just leave me alone… I just… I can’t… I don’t know what to do with this.”
Heartbreak colored her voice and he hated it. He hated this.
“Stay, sweetheart. Stay and let me help you understand.” They could get through this fucking mess together. She only had to be willing to give him a chance. Give them a chance.
They couldn’t let their past affect their future. She needed to see that.
“I do understand. That’s the damn problem. You took my father from me. You, Ozzy. And all these years, I was left wondering what the hell happened to him. Years.” Her voice cracked. “And you knew all this time.”
“I didn’t know who he was to you, Shay. Not ’til you saw that photo and pointed him out. Had no idea Ham was your father.”
“But then you knew. You knew! And you kept it from me. You hid that secret from me for how long? And… and… I fell… I fell… Oh my God…” She covered her quivering mouth with her hand, stifling a whimper.
She fell?
What did that mean…?
Oh fuck!
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Tell me you beat him up, chased him out of town and told him never to come back… Tell me he’s living somewhere because his penance to you was to give up his family since he took yours from you. Tell me that, Ozzy. I need to hear that.”
What fucking lies did she want him to tell her? Because any and all of that would be just more of them.
“Shay…”
“Ozzy! Did you kill him? Did you actually kill him? Did you take his life and take him from me? From my mother?”
Couldn’t she see he had a reason for revenge? His mother was killed for no fucking reason while he killed Ham for a good one. Goddammit! “Your father killed my fuckin’ mother, Shay! For no fuckin’ good reason.”