“Did you ever suspect Mitch?”
“He was the first person I suspected. I had him watched for months, but he was never seen with you. He must have—” John sucked in a ragged breath before continuing. “He must have sold you quickly.”
“So how soon was it before you gave up?”
“I never gave up, Keiran. I never stopped looking. I’m not perfect. There were many times I can recall wanting to give up. There were days when it was hopeless. Your mother stopped talking to me altogether. We lived in the same house, but we were strangers. She never forgave me.”
“Why did you get involved with her?” It was a struggle to keep my voice neutral when all I felt was anger. I fucking hated heroes.
“It’s complicated. I didn’t think I loved your mother. I didn’t think I could ever love her, and then one day, I did.”
“So what changed?” I growled impatiently.
“She told me she needed me. She told me she needed to forget. She needed to erase him. I—I wanted to be her hero.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘chivalry is dead’?”
“If that girl ever looked at you and asked you to save her, would you do it?”
“How is screwing my mother saving her?” I asked rather than answer his question. The only person Monroe would ever need to be saved from was me.
“Despite what you boys may think of her, your mother was a good woman who was corrupted by men who didn’t deserve her. We ruined her. We ruined you.”
“Trust me. It takes more than bad parenting to cause my type of ruin.”
“Nevertheless, if we hadn’t,” he paused to take a deep breath, “if I hadn’t let you go, you would be okay.”
“You don’t think I’m okay?” My lips curled in a humorless grin as I watched him from the other side of the desk.
“Cut the shit,” he said in a hard tone. “Don’t hide behind sarcasm. It isn’t cute. I don’t care what those little girls think.”
“I’m sensing this conversation is over. Good talk.” I turned to leave, but when my hand gripped the door handle, another hand gripped my shoulder. I didn’t even hear him cross the room.
“You need to hear this.”
“No, I don’t. It’s done. This is what I am, and I don’t plan to change.”
“That makes for a pretty bleak future, son. Do you plan to drag that girl of yours into it?”
“And if I am?”
“I won’t let you hurt her anymore.”
“How do you plan to stop me?”
Why did he care anyway? From the tale he had just spun, he pretty much just confirmed that he was a selfish bastard. Now he was determined to protect a total stranger. He didn’t need to know I had no intentions of hurting Monroe unless she gave me no choice. My desires have long since morphed into a different kind of need. The need to own.
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” He continued to stare at me with a curious expression, and I could tell he wanted to say more. “Why her?”
“Why not?” I countered without missing a beat.
“She doesn’t seem like your type.”
She’s exactly my type. “You don’t know what my type is.”
“But you do have a type?”
“Fuck.” My patience was nonexistent. “Is this conversation going somewhere? I have somewhere to be.”
“Look,” he released a harsh breath. “Before you go… there’s something I meant to give you.” He walked back over to his desk, unlocked one of his desk drawers and pulled out a small stack of aged envelopes. He pushed them across his desk and nodded for me to take them.
“What is that?”
“Letters your mother wrote. None of them are addressed. I think it was how she kept a journal.”
“Keep it.”
“They aren’t meant for me. Take them,” he urged. “Get to know your mother, son.”
“I’ve been without her for eighteen years. I don’t need to know her.”