The High Price of Secrets

Tamsyn slammed the album shut and staggered to her feet, unsure of what to do next. The sound of a car coming up the driveway gave her her answer. It could only be one person.

She turned to the door and easily unlocked the deadlock from inside—it was, after all, designed to keep people out of the room, not in it. She left the door ajar as she strode down the hallway toward the front door. Finn stood there in all his God-given glory, fresh and handsome in a pale gray suit, white shirt and tie.

“I heard about the storm, are you all right? You look—”

She jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger, taking him completely by surprise. “You knew!” she shouted, unable to contain her anger a second longer. “You knew all along and you lied to me! Why?”

For a second he almost looked as if he was about to deny her accusation, but then a cold, calm expression settled over his face, his eyes turning arctic.

“I never lied to you.”

“You did,” she insisted, fighting back the burning sensation that began to sting her eyes. Be damned if she was going to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve her tears after the way he’d taken her trust, her fragile heart and stomped them under his feet as if she was nothing. “You deliberately withheld the truth from me when you could have told me from day one where I could find my mother. Worse, you let me trust you.”

“Look, I told you that Ellen didn’t live at my house. That’s the truth.”

“But you never thought to tell me that she lived here.” Tamsyn uttered a bitter laugh. “Oh, I bet you had a good old chuckle about that when I took on the lease. What a freaking joke. Tamsyn Masters living in her mother’s house and not even knowing it. I suppose the whole town has been having a roaring time at my expense. Tell me, does everyone know?”

His silence told her everything.

“How could you do that to me?” she asked brokenly, the anger suddenly leaving her in a rush, leaving behind an awful hollowness.

“How did you find out?”

“Is that all you can say?”

Tamsyn stood and waited for his response, but he simply continued to stare her down. The generous lover who’d left her bed yesterday morning was a far cry from the man standing before her now.

“The storm did some damage, broke a window in the room with the locked door. I was trying to clear it up a bit from outside when I saw a picture on the wall.”

“Show me.”

She turned and went back up the hall, standing outside the now-open door and gesturing inside. Finn stood next to her as he surveyed the damage, the twisted blinds, the remnant of tree branch still dangling from the window frame.

“You broke into the boxes? Into their personal effects?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t you?” Tamsyn defended herself and pushed past him to pick up the album that had held the damning evidence that showed his complicity. “Who is this?” she demanded, stabbing at a photo of the blonde girl.

“That’s Alexis.”

The name was familiar. Yes, the designer. “Alexis Fabrini?”

“She’s your half sister.”

Tamsyn wobbled on her feet, her legs suddenly as weak as if she’d emptied a flagon of wine straight down her throat. It was only the solid presence of the doorjamb that kept her upright. She had a sister? She looked at the photo again, this time noticing the similarities between them, the things they’d both inherited from Ellen.

“Is there anything else you’re not telling me?” Her voice was weak, thready with shock. She let out a bitter laugh. “Why am I even bothering to ask? I’ve got no reason to believe anything you tell me anymore—or ever again.”

* * *

Finn tried to ignore the clawing pain in his chest. He had known this would come to pass, that he’d hurt Tamsyn immeasurably. He’d just hoped to stave it off for longer, for Ellen’s health to rally and for Lorenzo to perhaps agree to let Tamsyn visit her mother in the hospital. Then he could have told her the truth himself—broken it to her gently. He’d never wanted her to find out like this.

“Look,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair, “Ellen is a much loved member of this community. If people didn’t talk about her it’s because they wanted the best for her—to protect her.”

Pain streaked across Tamsyn’s face, leaving it even paler and more drawn than it had been seconds ago.

“Protect her from me? Her own daughter? Why, Finn? Why wouldn’t I be considered to be the best for my mother?”

His arms ached to reach out and comfort her. Finn closed his eyes and wished fiercely that he could turn back time, could avoid the trip that had taken him away from Tamsyn and left her alone when she was exposed to the truth.