Unless I could prove that I knew the kids before the diagnosis.
A dull roar filled my ears as Ella and Ms. Wilson exchanged words. I’d lose Ella, but I’d known that the moment I’d shown up in Telluride. The time I’d had with her was a gift that I’d had no right to. Hell, I’d stolen it. She didn’t really know the man she was in love with, because I hadn’t told her.
Three things. Three reasons. That’s what I used to make decisions now, used to quell my need to jump first and regret later.
Ella deserved the truth.
Maisie deserved to live.
My love for the kids wasn’t fraud.
Decision made.
“If you’ll wait here a moment,” I said above the fray, excusing myself from the table. I took the stairs two at a time and retrieved the box I kept buried under a stack of underwear in my nightstand.
Evidence in hand, I came down the stairs slowly. Ella and Ms. Wilson were still arguing, but Donahue turned toward me. He took in the box and my expression.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
“It’s the only way.”
He nodded as I walked by him to stand next to Ella. The conversation stopped, and all eyes were on me.
“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” I told Ella.
“I love you, too, Beckett,” she responded, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “What are you doing?”
Kissing her was the first thought in my mind—taking that last second with her so I could memorize everything. But I’d taken enough from her already.
“I should have told you, and I know this is about to cost me…you, but I can’t let another kid pay for my mistakes, especially not Maisie.”
The box made a soft scratching sound as I slid it down the table. Ms. Wilson took it and lifted the square lid. “What exactly am I looking at?”
She pulled the evidence of my sin onto the table, and Ella gasped.
“Why do you have my letters? His letters?” she whispered.
I kept my eyes on Ms. Wilson, unable to man up enough to watch the love die in Ella’s eyes when she caught on.
“You said you needed evidence that I knew the kids before the diagnosis, that I had a relationship with them. You’ll find letters in there dating before the diagnosis, as well as pictures drawn by the kids and little notes. I knew the kids, loved them, and loved Ella before Maisie was diagnosed. You have no reason to investigate. If this was just about Maisie’s treatments, I wouldn’t have adopted Colt, too. The truth is that I wanted to be their dad.”
Ms. Wilson sighed, thumbing through the letters. “I’m going to need to step outside and make a call.” She snapped a couple pictures of Ella’s letters and the kids’ pictures, gathered her notebooks, and walked out the front door.
“Ella—” I started.
“Don’t. Not one single word. Not yet.” Her knuckles were white and so were the tips of her fingernails where they dug into her biceps.
Donahue sent me a look full of so much sympathy that I nearly crumbled right there.
Minutes passed. The only sounds amid the tension in the room were the ticking of the clock and the rending of my heart roaring in my ears, consuming every thought. Would it be enough? Had I just given up everything…for nothing?
The front door opened, and Ms. Wilson walked back in, a faint stain of blush on her cheeks. “It appears I have been mistaken. I’m…sorry”—she choked that word out—“to have inconvenienced you. While the situation still remains a very…gray area, you didn’t do anything that would justify canceling the policy, and my supervisor has decided that the investigation is now complete.”
I almost sagged in relief at our win, no matter what it had cost.
“Don’t sound so disappointed. You get to help the good guys today.” Donahue pushed back from the table. “I’ll walk you out.”
Ms. Wilson stood, then gave me a forced smile. “My brother-in-law said you were one of the good ones, if that counts for anything. He said you and the dog were perfectly matched, like nothing he’d ever seen. Even your names meant the same damn thing. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Gentry. Ms. MacKenzie.” She turned to where Havoc sat at my side. “Havoc, right?”
“This way, Ms. Wilson,” Donahue called out. He locked eyes with me as she walked toward him. He knew I was about to have my hands full. “That offer stands. You can always come back.”
I nodded, and they left, the door shutting with an ominous, echoing sound behind them.
“How could you have hidden those from me? Why do you have his letters?” Ella asked, rising from her chair and backing away from me toward the box.
“Ella.”
She put her hands on either side of her head and shook it. “No. No. No. Oh God. The tree house, the same lettering on Maisie’s diploma. Havoc. It’s not a coincidence, is it?”
“No.” All of my life I’d been able to compartmentalize, to turn off my emotions. It was how I survived all those years in foster care, how I existed in special ops. But Ella had changed something in me. She’d opened my heart, and now I couldn’t shut the damn thing down. This pain was excruciating, and it was just the beginning.
“Say it. I’m not going to believe it unless you say it. Who are you?”
My eyes squeezed shut, and my throat closed. It was all I could do to draw a breath. But she deserved the truth, and now Maisie was protected. I’d done all I could to honor Ryan’s request, and the consequences to my heart didn’t matter. I straightened my spine and opened my eyes, taking in the pleading, terrified look in hers.
“I’m Beckett Gentry. Call sign Chaos.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ella
This wasn’t happening. I simply refused to believe that any of this was real. But those were my letters on the table, along with the pictures and notes the kids had sent to Chaos.
Beckett.
I looked again, just to make sure I hadn’t lost my mind. Nope. Just my heart.
“How? Why? You told me he was dead!” The words flew out without any pause for him to explain. Maybe it was because I honestly didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want my tiny little glass bubble of contentment to shatter.
“I never said that. I told you that knowing what happened to Ryan—to me—was only going to make you hurt worse than you already did.” His hands gripped the back of the chair. Lucky for him, having something to hold on to when I was in free fall.
“How? When you’re alive!” I shouted. “How could you let me think you were dead? Why would you do that to me? Is this all some kind of joke? God, the things you knew about me when you showed up…why, Beckett?”
Sensing the tension, Havoc got up, but it wasn’t Beckett she sat next to, it was me.
“It isn’t a joke—never was. I didn’t tell you because I knew once you figured out who I was, what had happened, you would throw me out. Deservedly so. And when you inevitably did, I wouldn’t be able to help you. I wouldn’t be able to do the one thing Ryan asked of me, which was to take care of you.”
“My brother. All of this was for my brother? Did you sleep with me for him, too? Just to keep me close? Make me fall for you?” How much of us was a lie?
“No. I fell in love with you way before Ryan died.”
“Don’t.” I backed up, needing distance and air. Why was there no air? My chest hurt so badly that the simple act of breathing took concentration.
“It’s true.”
“It’s not. Because if you’d loved me then, you never would have let me believe you were dead. You wouldn’t have left me alone at the worst time in my life, and then shown up a few months later as someone else. You lied to me!”
“By omission, yes, I did. I’m so sorry, Ella. I never wanted to hurt you.” He looked convincingly sincere, but how could he be when he’d been lying to me for eleven months?
“I mourned you. I cried, Beckett. Those letters were special to me, you were special to me. Why would you do that?”
He stood there silent and stoic, and my disbelief and shock transformed into something darker and more painful than I’d ever imagined.