He shoved his laptop aside in time for me to straddle him and hug him tightly.
“Thank you,” I murmured, touched by his thoughtfulness. He would’ve gone out for it while I was at my mother’s or maybe just after I left with the girls.
“Umm. Tell me how to earn one of these naked hugs every day.”
“Just be you, ace.” I rubbed my cheek against his. “You’re all I need.”
I slid out of bed and padded over to the bathroom with the small amber bottle in my hand. I guzzled the contents down with a shudder, brushed my teeth and hair, and then washed my face. I pulled on a robe and returned to the bedroom, finding Gideon gone and his laptop lying open in the middle of the bed.
I passed him in his office, seeing him standing with his feet planted wide and his arms crossed, facing the window. The city stretched out in front of him. Not the skyline view he had in his Crossfire office or his penthouse, but a closer vantage. More grounded and immediate. The connection with the city more intimate.
“I don’t share your concern,” he said briskly into his earpiece mic. “I’m aware of the risk … Stop talking. The subject isn’t open to debate. Draw up the agreement as specified.”
Recognizing that all-business note of steel in his voice, I kept walking. I still wasn’t sure exactly what was in the bottle, but I suspected it was vitamins and liquor of some sort. Hair of the dog. It was warming my belly and making me feel lethargic, so I went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.
Supplied with caffeine, I plopped down on the couch and checked my smartphone for messages. I frowned when I saw that I’d missed three calls from my dad, all before eight in the morning in California. I also noted a dozen missed calls from my mom, but I figured Monday was soon enough to deal with her again. And there was a text from Cary that shouted, CALL ME!
I called my dad back first, trying to swallow a quick drink of coffee before he answered.
“Eva.”
The anxious way my dad said my name told me something was wrong. I sat up straighter. “Dad … Is everything all right?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Nathan Barker?” His voice was hoarse and filled with pain. Goose bumps swept across my skin.
Oh, fuck. He knew. My hand shook so badly, I spilled hot coffee on my hand and thigh. I didn’t even feel it; I was so panicked by my father’s anguish. “Dad, I—”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Or Monica. My God … She should’ve said something. Should’ve told me.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I had the right to know!”
Sorrow spread through my chest like acid. My dad—a man whose self-control rivaled Gideon’s—sounded like he was crying.
I set my mug on the coffee table, my breathing fast and shallow. Nathan’s sealed juvenile records had broken open upon his death, exposing the horror of my past to anyone who had the knowledge and means to find it. As a cop, my dad had those means.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” I told him, stunned, but trying to hold it together for his sake. My smartphone beeped with an incoming call, but I ignored it. “Before or after.”
“I could’ve been there for you. I could’ve taken care of you.”
“Daddy, you did. Putting me together with Dr. Travis changed my life. I didn’t really start dealing with anything until then. I can’t tell you how much that helped.”
He groaned, and it was a low sound of torment. “I should’ve fought your mother for you. You should’ve been with me.”
“Oh, God.” My stomach cramped. “You can’t blame Mom. She didn’t know what was happening for a long time. And when she did find out, she did everything—”
“She didn’t tell me!” he shouted, making me jump. “She should’ve fucking told me. And how could she not know? There must’ve been signs … How could she not see them? Jesus. I saw them when you came to California.”