Gabe’s hand reaches across the table to take mine, anchoring me. My head is woozy.
“Sorry for his tact. Jameson, explain.” Gabe narrows his eyes on his friend.
“Best information I have right now is she wanted to leave your father because he was abusive. She was going to take you with her, but he beat her bad. When she woke up, he was gone, and so were you and your brother.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
“She looked for you, but he jumped states.”
“Oh my god.” My throat tightens. I place a hand to my chest, willing it to open and let me breathe.
“Fuck. She’s having a panic attack.” Gabe’s voice distorts and slows. The room spins around me. “I’ve got you, Willa. It’s okay.” His words bounce around me. Strong arms encase my body. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.” How can this be? Milo made her out to be awful. Did my father’s poison influence his memories?
“Where is she?”
“Vancouver. She wants to see you, but it’s your choice.”
I have a mother.
“Here.” He hands me a photograph of her, taken with her unaware. “Private investigator took the image.” The colors bleed together as tears well in my eyes.
“Take a day or two, think it over. If you want to go see her, we can get you a passport and flight.”
“Why did you do this for me?” Tears pour down my cheeks, stinging my lips. An overwhelming surge of gratitude swirls inside me.
“Because not all men are monsters. I don’t want you going through life thinking you’re supposed to be treated like shit. You’re not. From here, you have the power to do anything you want, be anyone you want. It’s a fresh start.” Jameson rests his hand on my shoulder. “You deserved more than you were dealt, but that’s the past.”
Gabe hands me a tissue and rubs my back in soothing circles. “She’s beautiful. You have her eyes.” Sniffling, I wipe my eyes and stare down at the woman who gave me life. I do have her eyes…and nose. I have a mother.
Fifteen
Gabe
It’s been three days since Jameson dropped the bomb about Willa’s mother. She hasn’t spoken about it much since. I find her lost in thought, daydreaming. Every night, she slips into my room and snuggles up next to me, wanting to be held. I know she wants more from me, but it’s selfish to add sex into the mix. She’s been through so fucking much, and I’m the man who got her away from her shit life. She feels indebted to me. If I took advantage of that, I’d be just as damn bad as the men in her life before me.
“I love this color,” she announces, staring up at the midnight blue wall in the entryway.
“You should. You picked it,” I remind her.
“I know.” She looks over her shoulder at me, paintbrush in hand. “I have fabulous taste.”
“You’re going to be bored when you run out of rooms to paint.” She’s a machine when she gets going. I think it helps her clear her mind.
Sighing, she picks up the paint tray. “Maybe I can start looking for a job?” I’m not sure if it’s a statement or a question. She pauses in front of me, searching my face.
“Is there something you’d be interested in pursuing?”
“Cooking,” she quips, and a broad grin spreads across my face.
“That’s just cruel on society.”
“Beast.” She yelps, nudging past me on her way to clean the brushes.
“You could look into joining some social groups, discover what interests you.” I follow behind her.
“It’s scary.” She exhales a deep breath. “Maybe we can look on the computer and you can help me pick a couple of local jobs to apply for?”
“Easy. We got this,” I encourage. The thought of her wanting to find work here settles the pit I’ve had in my stomach since Jameson mentioned Vancouver. I’d give anything for her to have family who loves and wants to take care of her, but the possibility of her leaving here—leaving me—makes me want to bolt the fucking doors.
After dinner, we went through the job ads, and she chose a couple server positions to call and enquire about tomorrow. It will be good for her to socialize with people who aren’t me. The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I can’t protect her from every dick she’ll encounter, but it will mean when she returns home to me, it’s because she wants to, not because she has to. It’s a new feeling for me to be insecure and tormented by a woman’s affections.
Stripping out of my clothes, I crank the shower to hot and step in, washing the day from my skin. The house is coming together. Willa’s assistance has really progressed everything. Asking her to help me pick furniture out is going to be next on my list.
Stepping out, I grab a towel and rub it over my head before wrapping it around my waist. I walk out into my bedroom to grab some boxers and almost swallow my tongue. Willa’s in the middle of the bed, resting on her knees, naked as the day she was born. My dick hardens to full mast, tenting the towel. I’ve had a constant semi since she moved in, but damn, God was doing his best work the day he created her. Her big, round tits sit heavy, begging to be sucked, squeezed, bitten. “Willa,” I strain her name out. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.