The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“No!” I cried. “I’m glad you’re here.” I drew her inside and shut the door behind her. “I want to talk to you. I always want to talk to you.”

Mama came in reluctantly, her gaze clashing with Bibi in a way I didn’t understand.

“Do you want some juice? Or coffee…?”

I heard the desperation in my own voice, but Mama was here. She wouldn’t have bought a flight and flown six hours for a conversation that could happen over the phone. This was it. She was here to tell me who my father was and what happened between them. Everything.

“No, thank you. Maybe we can speak privately?”

“Of course. The patio…?”

Mama immediately headed for the back. Bibi took my hand. “Shiloh, wait…”

“It’s fine. I want to hear this. More than anything.”

Even if it scares me to death.

Her grip tightened. “Listen to me, Shiloh. You know who you are. Whatever she says, whatever she tells you, can’t change that.”

“That’s just it,” I whispered. “I don’t know who I am. She’s going to tell me. Finally.”

Bibi closed her eyes for a moment and let go of my hand. “I suppose this day had to come eventually.”

Her resignation that something awful was about to happen squeezed the knot in my stomach, but I hurried to join my mother in the backyard. On the patio, sprinklers had left the wrought iron chairs and table wet with droplets like glass beads.

“We could go to my room…?” I suggested.

“We don’t have to sit,” Mama said. Indeed, she looked like she was ready to bolt. “How is Bibi? Any more dizzy spells?”

“None. She’s doing great.”

“She’s getting up there, and I know her vision is declining.”

I squared my shoulders. “Are you afraid you might have to take me back?”

Mama flinched and looked beyond me to the shed. “That’s new.”

“Ronan built it,” I blurted.

“Who is Ronan?”

“He’s…” I realized I didn’t know how to answer that, and an ache panged in my heart, adding to the boulder that sat on my chest to see my mother—a stranger in my own backyard.

“It’s nice,” she said.

“It’s for my work,” I said. “It’s what I do, Mama. I make jewelry until my eyes water and my fingers burn. I work instead of doing almost anything else.”

“So you can open your own business.”

“Yes, for that. But also…” I swallowed down a jagged lump of pride. “To prove myself to you. Make you proud. But it doesn’t feel like that’s possible.”

Her dark eyes met mine and she was quiet for long moments.

“Mama…?”

“Do you know the origin of your name, Shiloh?”

My brows furrowed. “Bibi said it means ‘tranquil.’”