“You always accepted her, Remi, but you, Noah, you were so angry. I knew that would be the final straw for you. I needed to protect you all. In the best way I thought how.”
Jabbing a finger in his direction, I say in disbelief, “By locking her up and making her off-limits? That’s like dangling forbidden fruit in the garden of eve,” I scoff. How will any of us move on from this? What will this do to her?
“What aren’t you saying?” He stiffens, hands fisting. Never being here gives him the luxury of not having a fucking clue what’s been going on with us.
“We fucking love her. We’re together.” I do a loop with my finger, indicating our circle.
I said it out loud, let the words have sound, meaning, put them into the world. I love her.
His back hits the wall, sliding down until he's sitting slacked-jawed. “This is my fault,” he mumbles.
“You think?” I gripe.
“We can move to Alabama?” Remi offers.
“Is everything a joke to you?”
“No.” He smacks a fist into my shoulder. “It’s how I cope when I’m freaking the fuck out. I don’t know what to do, how to feel. Looking at her, I don’t see a fucking sister. I’d tear the world apart to put all this shit in a box and never have it opened. I need to smoke some weed. I’m spiraling.”
“There’s more you should know,” Father says, resting his hands on his knees, holding his face in his hands.
“What can be worse than this?” Remi scoffs. “This is so twisted.”
“It’s about how your mother and I met.” The sigh is one born from his own guilt. I know how he fucking met her.
“If she’s a relative, just don’t fucking tell us.” Remi shakes his head animatedly.
“She was one of Antonio’s girls,” I say before he can confess. His head snaps up to me.
I point to the dead guy in the hall. “I had to hear it from that piece of shit.”
Remi glares between Maddox’s body and me. “Why the fuck are you keeping secrets from me?” he throws a pointed finger at me.
“She wasn’t a worker,” our father states firmly.
“Because you wanted her exclusively,” I grunt, putting a hand on Remi’s shoulder, an apology.
“No.” Father’s stare is deadly. “I’m not that fucking guy. I used to do favors for Antonio when I was building what we have. I’d do physical examinations on the girls he trafficked here.”
“Noble of you.” I cross my arms over my chest, not caring what bullshit excuse he gives.
“There was no denying I was drawn to your mother. She was beautiful, smart. She told me she came here to get away from an abusive boyfriend. Scared of what he’d do when he found out a secret she’d been keeping.”
More secrets.
“Dad just fucking say it,” Remi snaps.
“She was pregnant.” He exhales, watching us, waiting for it to hit, for understanding to dawn.
“What?” Remi chokes.
“Do you know what men like Antonio would do to her if they knew?”
“Kill her,” I whisper. He claimed her to protect her—us.
“You’re not our dad,” Remi surmises, his hand smothering his mouth. His legs give out, dropping him to his knees.
“I am. In every way that counts,” our father scrambles to place a hand on Remi’s shoulder. “I love you boys with everything I am. Your mother and I didn’t start out in the traditional sense, but we grew together and the love followed.”
“You married her to stop her from being slaughtered,” I say it out loud. No more misunderstandings. No half-truths.
“We were friends and parents, married on paper. I’d been doing some charity work, helping people at a church who had no medical insurance. That’s where I met Marcia. She was also in an abusive relationship but wouldn’t leave him. One night, things went too far with us. She went back to him, and we didn’t see each other for years. And then I got a call. Her husband had sustained an injury he couldn’t go to the hospital for because they’d have to alert police for gunshots.” He becomes lost to the memories, the torture aging him. “I went to their house to treat him after she begged me, and that’s when I saw Freya. He must have seen the way Marcia looked at me. Time hadn’t dimmed her love for me. And the child…she looked like me.”
My gaze roams over our girl with new sight. She has his coloring, but she looks more like the picture of the woman in the article, her mother.
“I insisted she needed to leave him or I would take Freya.” His throat bobs. “The next night, I got a call to meet her at the church. When I arrived, a woman handed me a note left there for me.”
Remi takes father’s hand, sensing the strength he needs to lean on to get through his story. “What did it say?” he asks.