Only, instead of receding into himself, this time he’d grown. He’d begun to open the doors he’d used to close himself off, and the man he’d once been started to reemerge. At least, that was what Royce said. I’d been seven when our mother had passed away and barely remembered either of my parents before that event.
I was off-balance now but did my best not to show it. Being caught off guard meant I was at a disadvantage, and that wasn’t allowed in this house, even if he no longer lived here. I drew in a breath and sat back in my chair, pretending to be uninterested in giving him permission. “I appreciate the gesture,” I said, “but it’s not needed.”
“I assure you it is.” His hesitation dried up, and his voice filled with conviction. “I won’t ask her for her hand without it.”
I cocked my head. This had to be a bluff, but what game was he playing at?
Whatever expression I was making, it must have prompted him to explain. “You are my son, and you have a say in who becomes part of this family.”
Distrust moved through me like the blade of an oar cutting through still water. “Yeah? So, if I say no, that you don’t have my approval—what happens then?”
His eyebrow arched. “I work to try to change your mind.”
That did nothing to ease my distrust. “Why do you care?”
“I believe I just explained that. You’re my son, and your opinion matters.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Never did before.”
“I know.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “And I’m . . . sorry. I’m trying to be better.”
If I wasn’t so shocked at hearing an apology, I might have appreciated the way he acknowledged the truth. But I was too stunned to do anything but simply stare at him, contributing to the stillness of the space between us.
The elegant sitting room we occupied was rarely used. Like me, it was curated. Designed to serve a purpose. Its task was to be a lavish display of our wealth, but this room didn’t make the house a home any more than my existence made me part of the Hale family.
But things were changing.
We’d both made awful mistakes, but tearing the family apart came with a surprising upside. It cleared a space for us to build something new, and he seemed willing to rise to the challenge.
I was less sure.
Scared, my mind corrected.
My father had a relentless gaze, but it warmed as it focused in on me, and his voice went uneven. “I love you, Vance.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
He’d never said it before, and my mind reeled. After my mother’s death, no one in the Hale family knew how to care for anyone else. Under my father’s brutal regime, the best chance at emotional survival was to not have feelings at all. Royce and I had learned all about self-preservation, and quickly, too.
And I wondered if the absence of love between us allowed space for something else to grow in its place. He was a difficult man to love.
For years I found him much easier to hate.
Things were far more complicated now, but my knee-jerk reaction to him saying he loved me was pure instinct. “You can’t.”
Disappointment and displeasure glanced through his expression. “Why not?”
My heart banged in my chest. It was what made me speak without thinking. “Because I had an affair with your wife.”
The second my confession was out, I would have done anything to take it back. My affair with Alice wasn’t news to him, but my father recoiled anyway. At least I’d returned the favor, and now he was the one caught off guard.
Weakness. It was whispered through my head, spoken in his voice.
But I was the one who felt weak, and my guilt was so acute, I could barely look at him.
“Vance,” he started, unsure where he was going with it, “that’s . . . irrelevant.”
I repeated the word in disbelief. “Irrelevant?”
“You’re my son regardless, and therefore I will always love you.”
Faint, hurried footsteps outside the room grew louder as they approached, but he seemed unaware. His focus was fixed on me.
“I have done a great number of things,” he continued, “that I am not proud of. I hope you’re able to look beyond them and feel the same way for me as I do for you and your brother.”
There wasn’t time to contemplate what he’d said because Elliot, the head of our household staff, appeared in the doorway. His normally calm eyes were wide, setting me on edge.
“Forgive the interruption,” he said quickly, “but two police detectives are here and would like to speak with Mr. Hale.”
My father drew in a deep, preparing breath. Whatever this was about, he wasn’t expecting it, and he was resigned as he rose to his feet. “I’ll speak with them in here.” His voice returned to his cool, confident one. “Please show them in.”