Once we arrived at the hospital, time bent again and lost all meaning. I had no idea how long we were there before Scarlet breathed, “Uncle Sally,” with soul-deep relief.
I was on the bed with Lacey, holding her in my lap, Talon tucked on my other side, looking at the hundreds of pictures of Benjamin on my phone, when a tall man in a suit strode in.
It was good I was sitting down. If I hadn’t been, there was no shot my knees wouldn’t have given out.
Our eyes met for a mere second, and the world tilted.
Salvatore.
Hewas white as a sheet, eyes glassy and panicked, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His chest heaved, like he’d run as fast as he could to get here.
“Lace,” he uttered, his voice cracking.
In an instant, he was across the room, his hand hovering just above her cheek without touching, vibrating with intense, barely contained energy. Helplessness and fear carved hard lines beside his mouth and a deep crevice between his brows.
“I hurt my arm, Uncle Sally.” Lacey sniffled, pressing her back into my chest.
He didn’t even look at me.
All his focus was on Lacey—right where it belonged. Because she was his. All three of these kids belonged to him.MyTore wastheirUncle Sally.
My head turned like it was on creaky hinges to look at the kids. Lacey, curled in my lap, her arm against her chest like a broken wing. Talon, studying my phone with fervor, like he couldn’t bear to see anything else right now. Scarlet, her blotchy cheeks and fisted hands, holding herself together by the skin of her teeth.
Finally, I looked at Tore. He wasn’t shocked to see me here. He didn’t wonder why I was with his children.
He’d known.
How could there be any other possibility? This man controlled every facet of his universe. He had peered into my life for two years without me having an inkling. Of course he was aware of who was in his children’s lives.
He’d known and didn’t tell me.
An ache bloomed behind my ribs. Not pain, exactly. Not even anger. I couldn’t quite name what I was feeling.
Then it came to me.
Betrayal.
That was it.
I had come to care for these kids, and he’d let it happen. I’d played with them, told them ridiculous stories, let them into my house, my life, even though kidswere not my thing.
And all that time, I hadn’t known who they were to him.
Or whohewas to them.
He didn’t look at me. Even now.
He was gripping Lacey’s tiny fingers, demanding his father find her doctor immediately, reminding me why we were here. Lacey was hurt, and her needs were immediate. Everything else could wait.
So I didn’t say a word.
I didn’t ask questions.
I didn’t demand explanations.
Not here. Not now.
Chapter Thirty-three
