But he swallows it down. Instead, he leans in, brushing his lips across my forehead instead.
“I’ll go get him,” he says gently. I nod, even though my heart thunders painfully in my chest. As he stands and heads toward the door, a million thoughts swirl in my mind.
Ethan pauses at the door, glancing back at me like he hates to leave even for a second. I give him a smile, the only one I can manage, just enough to tell him it’s okay. He disappears into the hallway, and I’m left alone with my racing heart and the ache of all the unanswered years pressing down on me.
After a few minutes, the door creaks open, and I suck in a shaky breath as Roland steps inside, closing it softly behind him.
For a moment, he just stands there, almost like he’s afraid to move too fast and scare me.
I take him in—the broad set of his shoulders, the gray threaded through his dark hair, the deep lines around his mouth and eyes, the cane he never goes without.
He looks tired, worn down in a way that feels carved into his bones. But his gaze, when it finds mine, is steady.
And heartbreakingly full of regret.
“Hi, Natalie,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.
I sit up a little straighter, wincing as the motion tugs at my sore muscles. “Hey,” I whisper back, my throat tightening.
He hesitates, then slowly crosses the room to sit in the chair Ethan vacated. Silence stretches between us, heavy and brittle.
I don’t know who speaks first. Maybe it’s both of us at once.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I have questions,” I breathe out.
He nods like he expected that. Like he’s been carrying the weight of those unasked questions for years. I twist the blanket in my hands, gathering my courage.
“My mother said you abandoned me.”
Something dark flickers across his face.
Pain.
Rage.
Grief.
“She lied to you,” he says softly. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop her.”
I blink hard, willing the sting in my eyes to go away. “Why?” my voice cracks. “Why weren’t you there? Why did you leave me with her?”
Roland exhales, running a hand down his face like he’s trying to find the right place to start. And then he looks at me with such brutal honesty that it knocks the breath out of me.
“You were very young,” he says. “You barely understood what was happening, but... one night, you told me something. Something that changed everything.”
I frown, confused. “What did I say?”
“You told me about your mother’s ‘friend,’” he says, voice hollow. “The man who would visit when I was away on business. I thought you were imagining things at first. But you were so sure. You even described him.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I came home early from a trip and caught them together. Your mother and him.”
My stomach churns. I already know where this is going. I can feel the sickening weight of it before he even says the words.
“Turns out,” Roland says bitterly, “he wasn’t just some fling. He was her first love. They’d been together since before we married. She married me because I could give her a comfortable life. He couldn’t.”
His mouth twists.
