Beck closes the door after himself and sits behind his desk, resting his arms on the table and pinning Barton with an assessing look. “What is this all about, Mr. Davenport?”
My father shifts in his chair to focus on me. “After, uh, what you said in the hospital, it got me thinking…about the night you disappeared.”
The thought of finding out more about what happened to me perks my interest, and I straighten slightly against the wall, darting my gaze to Beck before focusing back on my father.
“Your mother and I were celebrating our wedding anniversary. We had a big party, like we do every year.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I honestly don’t remember anything in particular about that night. It was just like every other party…until the next day, when I went into your room to check on you and Hawk…you were gone.” There’s a genuine look of sadness in his eyes and a heavy ring to his voice, but I refuse to let his show of grief bother me. “I looked everywhere, interrogated all of the house staff, but no one had seen you. Then I called a meeting of all four families.
“That morning, I couldn’t get a hold of Lawrence, which isn’t all that unusual, but he was the one that gave me the number for the private investigator.”
“Why didn’t you just go to the police?” Beck interrupts, frowning.
My father sighs, and I swear he looks years older than he did when he walked in here. “I wanted to. I argued with the others about it, but ultimately, we couldn’t risk bringing the police in and having them dig too far into the company.”
“Right, so you chose the company over your daughter. Real nice, Dad.” He grimaces at my snarky attitude.
“Lawrence promised this PI was the best in the country. He said he’d do a much better job than the police—that this guy was my only hope at finding you.” The last sentence is exhaled on a forlorn sigh, and despite my mental chant to not let him sucker me in, my heart clenches in my chest. Not so much for Barton, but for Elizabeth. Perhaps she could have been saved if he hadn’t listened to Lawrence, or done what the others wanted. I can see the same thoughts in Beck’s regretful gaze.
“So I’m guessing Lawrence paid off the PI or something?” I ask the question in the same tone I’d use to ask about the weather, using it to mask my inner turmoil.
“I’m guessing so. At first he’d update me on leads he had, show me pictures of girls that could possibly be you, but nothing ever panned out. After a few years, he tried to convince me to stop. I wasn’t ready to hear any of it, and I just kept throwing more money at him, but eventually, your mother gave me an ultimatum. She had managed to move on with her life—her own way of coping, I imagine—and I ultimately had to do the same. I still had Hawk, and I needed to focus on him.”
“Except you didn’t,” I bite out angrily. “By the sounds of it, you were never around.”
He grimaces, knowing he’s been caught out. “It wasn’t easy. Every time I looked at him, I saw you. It became easier to keep an eye on him from afar, but just because I wasn’t always around doesn’t mean he was ever far from my thoughts.”
“He deserved better.” I sigh, broken-hearted for the lives both Hawk and I lost out on.
Barton lifts his head, looking me in the eye for the first time since he walked in here. “You both did.”
The office door bursts open, making me jump as Hawk stomps in, bringing with him a hurricane of emotions. He strides right over to his father, towering above him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, his gaze roaming around the room until he spots me leaning against the wall behind him. His eyes run over me in a critical manner before he meets my gaze, asking a silent question—are you okay? I nod, letting him know I’m fine, and he returns his intense stare to Barton, cocking a brow as his impatience wears out.
“You weren’t answering my calls,” Barton snaps, “and I wanted to check on Elizabeth.”
“Hadley,” I interrupt, my sharp tone cutting across whatever Hawk was going to say next. Barton’s gaze snaps in my direction, his brows pulling together in confusion. “My name is Hadley.”
“No, it’s—”
“Elizabeth died,” I snap. “It doesn’t matter what happened, or why. The daughter you knew died a long time ago. I’m not her, and I’m never going to be.”
Barton looks like someone tore into his chest and ripped his heart out. His face crumples, looking completely grief-stricken, and he seems to sag into the chair, boneless.
I hear footsteps racing down the hall, and a second later, the others come storming in, breathless as their eyes dart around the room, assessing the situation.
Cam’s wide eyes land on me, and he comes over, brushing a thumb over my cheek. I’m not sure what I look like to him, but it must be worse than normal, given the concern etched into his features. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
I give him a soft, reassuring smile. “No,” I assure him. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He looks at me, confused, and I can see the unasked questions in his eyes. Thankfully he knows not to ask them, not here, and instead slips his hand into mine, leaning against the wall beside me as we survey the room.
I notice Barton looking at where our hands are joined, before Hawk’s pissed off growl garners his attention. “Why are you suddenly giving a shit?”
“Watch your tone, son! I have always given a shit.”
“Right.” Hawk scoffs. “Like when you didn’t look for her for fifteen years, or how about when you signed a business contract that involved marrying her off to some guy she doesn’t know. Were you giving a shit when you—”
“Alright,” Barton snaps, a mixture of regret and anger flashing across his face. “I get it. I’ve failed as a father, but I have only been trying to do what I thought was right.”
I’ve got no idea how the fuck he thinks that, and apparently neither does anyone else, based on the various what the fuck expressions the others are sporting.
“It’s fine, Hawk,” I mumble, but the words only seem to stoke the fire of his anger.
“It is not fucking fine, Hadley!”
I turn to face him, my lips pinched. “No, it’s not, but it is what it is. Nothing’s going to change what happened.”
Hawk and I share a moment, thick with all the memories we should have shared, but underneath all that pain is our newfound solidarity, and a strengthening of the promise to always be there for each other, from here on out.
When he looks away, Hawk straightens his shoulders and fixes Barton with a hard stare. “Alright, well, while you're here, we need to talk about what you know…and what you’ve told the others.”
Unbothered by the sudden tension that has leaked into the air, and the menacing glowers he’s receiving from each of us, Barton returns his son’s arduous stare. “I haven’t told the others anything about your involvement in what happened at the compound, or Lawrence’s death.” His gaze flicks briefly to mine.
“Why would you do that?” I question. I half expected him to go running back to his wife and West’s dad and tell them everything.