Darkness Before Dawn (Darkness 2)

Camden is staring at me as if he's trying to figure out whether or not I'm real.

I surprise myself, by stepping forward and extending my arms out to them before they both rush toward me. The woman clings to my neck as the man sandwiches her between us, holding us tightly. Aimee grabs on to my left arm and squeezes it. For a couple of minutes, we're as united as our family could be. Yet the more I think about family, the more I think of Blake. And even though these people, my blood, are holding me up, I feel myself shattering beneath them.

They eagerly lead me inside and we settle down in their living room.

"Wow," Camden says, his eyebrows pinched together. "I just can't believe it!"

I nod and give him a shrug and a slight smile, as Colleen looks at me, and touches my face and my arms continuously. I let her, because that's probably what I'll do when I finally have Blake in my arms again. Though it is a little strange coming from a woman that hasn't seen me in over twenty years, but a mother is a mother and her touch doesn't make me uncomfortable.

"Aimee tells us that you were involved with Blake Brennan before she went missing?" Camden asks, and I know I shouldn't feel the rage I feel at the question. He makes it sound so insignificant. No, I was not involved with Blake. You are not just involved with the person that causes your world to make sense. You live for that person. You breathe for that person. So no, involved, is not the word I would use to describe my relationship with Blake.

"Blake is everything to me. She's not somebody I'm involved with, she is my reason, my everything," I say calmly.

His eyebrows shoot up and I see the surprise in Colleen's eyes. I wonder if they think that because I've been lost all these years without them as my family, that I'm incapable of love. I look over at Aimee, who now has tears in her eyes, and I think again of how funny life is. Here she is, in the house she grew up in, with the people who raised her, and she goes through life isolating herself from most people. She's the opposite of what you would expect somebody in this upbringing to be.

I, on the other hand, am whole. My friends are whole, and if you look through my family photos growing up, you won't find absent souls in our eyes. You'll see laughing, amused, caring, loving eyes. As I look at the photos on their end tables, all I see are ghosts. In that moment, I understand. I am not the orphan--they are. I am not the broken child, Aimee is. I didn't grow up going to private school or surrounded by socialites, but I grew up with love.

"I thought you were dating that model, Erin Andrews?" Colleen asks quietly.

"That was a long time ago," I reply.

"I just saw your pictures together at an event. I even bought the magazine because I loved the dress she was wearing," my mother says.

"And because you're a gossip queen," Aimee chimes in rolling her eyes.

"You can't believe anything you see or read in those things. They probably took pictures of us talking and decided to make it into a story about us getting back together. Erin is happily dating somebody," I answer, and am annoyed that I have to explain this to a politician's wife. Of all people, she must know that the media is always full of shit.

"So, Blake Brennan, huh...Aimee says you met her in foster care. I'm so sorry that you had to live there, son. If I had known..." Camden's voice breaks and he looks pained.

"Don't feel bad about something that you couldn't have fixed. Even if you would have known, I'm glad I was there. I met the best people in my life there. We're a family, and yes, Blake is one of them," I answer.

I can tell it's a lot for him to process, so I give him time before I continue.

"I met with Blake's grandfather yesterday, Brian Benson—I'm sure you've heard of him," I say, raising an eyebrow, because everybody knows that name.

"Brian?" Camden gasps. "Blake?" He has a horrified look on his face, and I know it's because he's judging Brian's reputation.

"Yes, Brian, that Brian. I need help finding Blake. I don't have time for you to sit here and judge whose granddaughter she is," I bite out.

Camden looks as if I've slapped him. "Judge? You're confusing shock with judging, son. I'm not judging anybody. I could never judge Brian. Hell, Mark is your damn godfather, for crying out loud," he exclaims. My eyes widen at that because I know not many people, if any, know that Mark and Brian are related.

"How do you know Brian?" I ask suspiciously.

He smiles. "He's an old friend." His smile falters and he crinkles his eyebrows. "So you're saying that Blake is Liam's little girl?"

I run my hands down my face. "I don't know who Liam is," I sigh, "I don't know who Blake's father is, I just know that Brian is her grandfather. I do know that Brian doesn't want her father to know that she's alive yet."

Colleen gasps and she cups her mouth closed. "Oh my god, that poor man," she says as tears fill her eyes.

"Honey, can you get us a drink, please? Aimee, go help your mother," Camden demands quietly. They don't question him, they just go toward the kitchen and leave me sitting there with my shocked father.

He turns to me and closes his eyes. When he opens them I see pain. "Liam doesn't know his little girl is alive?" he asks in a whisper.

"I guess not. Do you think he'd help me find her?" I ask desperately.

He looks at me like I have two heads. "That's his daughter, of course he'll help…but it won't be pretty. Does Brian know who has her?"

"He said it was the O'Brien's," I mutter under my breath.

His sharp intake of breath makes my stomach drop.

"Then it's best that Liam doesn't find out," he states gravely.

"Why? You were just looking all heartbroken that this Liam guy doesn't know his daughter is alive and now you say it's best he doesn't find out?"

Camden's eyes widen. "Your tantrums were definitely cuter when you were a little boy," he says with a huff.

A growl escapes me as I stand up. "I'm not throwing a tantrum! This is not a goddamn game to me! I need to find my girlfriend and I would appreciate a little cooperation. I'm going crazy over here, can't you see tha

t?" I shout, throwing my hands up.

Aimee and Colleen run back into the room and straight toward me, putting their arms around me. I'm too fucking pissed to calm down and the only person that has the power to calm me down has been fucking kidnapped by some fucking Irish mob boss.

"Take a deep breath, Cole. Please," Aimee pleads as she lets me go.

I do as I'm told and begin to pace the room with my hands on my head. Once I feel like I can speak again, I sit in a chair on the opposite side.

"Who is Liam in all this? Why do they keep taking his daughter?" I ask quietly.

"He's Brian's right hand."

I close my eyes and try to process this. "Why isn't Brian out there trying to get his granddaughter back?"

"He is, Cole. Brian's a smart man. He thinks things through. He's lost a lot, too. Trust that he's doing his best to get her back."

None of this shit makes sense and none of it makes me want to trust a fucking mobster. They're the ones that have some kind of fucking pissing contest going on and my girlfriend is stuck in the middle of it.

"Camden, I need your help. I need you to help me look for Blake. I can't live like this anymore," I plead as I look into his eyes, hoping he can see how serious I am about this shit. If it takes me joining the damn mafia to find her, I'll fucking do it.

"Cole, the police have searched everywhere for her. If you say that Brian knows where she is, just let him do what he needs to do. I can't step on his toes," my father pleads back.

"Why? Doesn't the government pay you for justice?" I spit angrily.

Now it's his turn to rein in his temper. "Brian is a good friend, those people are like family to me. Brian's kids and I have been best friends since we were kids. I don't need you to tell me where my priorities lay. If you're trying to make me feel guilty for not being a good fucking mayor, you might as well save your bullshit. I am a damn good mayor, but I am also loyal to the people that have always been there for me," he says, rubbing his face roughly.

"What do you know about that old farm we used to go to when I was little?" I ask suddenly.