I took Roy’s hand that he held out to me. I guessed it was old news now. Roy and I were together.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.Back at Roy’s place, I wanted to give him something special. Show him what he meant to me. I led him into his studio to my watercolor that was still covered.
“You don’t have to,” he said.
“I want to. Just don’t be disappointed, okay?”
“You could never disappoint me, silver. Never.”
I nodded, hoping against hope he spoke honestly. I had a tiny percentage of the talent Roy had. I grasped the cloth covering but then froze.
“You okay?” Roy asked.
“Yeah. But I need to ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Your brothers both seem to think your father might have been behind his own murder.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “They made that clear.”
“Yet you said nothing. Do you agree with them?”
Roy didn’t answer right away. His gaze rested on the covered watercolor. Finally, “No, I don’t agree with them. My father didn’t take his own life.”
“I see. Why do you think that?”
His dark eyes gazed at something intangible. “Because he was a megalomaniac, silver. Obsessed with his own power. What he could do. How he could spit in the face of the laws, of other people’s rights. In his mind, he was a god, and gods don’t kill themselves, even to screw their children over.”
I touched his cheek. “Why don’t your brothers see that?”
“Because they don’t know what I know. Haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”
“But you told them all about your repressed memories.”
“I did. But they didn’t live it. I did. And I have a glimpse inside my father that they don’t. Even Riley, as much as she went through at his hands. She never saw what I saw. What he was truly capable of. How many women were hunted, tortured, and then died for my father’s little game? For his amusement?”
I nodded, suppressing the nausea. My stomach knotted. I wanted desperately to leave this horrible place. Didn’t want to think about what Derek Wolfe’s victims had suffered. I had to, but not now.
Besides, Roy had said it all.
“I’m going to be okay now,” he said. “I know it.”
“You will be. I’ll see to it.” I braced myself and removed the cloth from my watercolor. “Please don’t hate it.
He gazed upon my work, and a smile edged onto his lips. “You made me whole, silver. You made me whole.”
I stood beside him and regarded my own work, tried to see it through his eyes.
“I love it,” he said. “You gave my face a serene look. Somehow you show me relaxed in a way I’ve never been. You made me whole in this painting. And in every other way. Come here.”
I turned into his arms and met his lips in a soft kiss.
“I love you, Charlie,” he said.
“I love you too, Roy. So much.” I snuggled against his hard shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”EpilogueRileyThe beauty of being my father’s daughter was that he’d taught me from a young age to be a proficient liar. I could convince anyone of anything. All I had to do was smile, flutter my eyes a little, and wiggle my ass when I walked away.
Worked great on the runway.
All eyes on me.
Except when I wanted to disappear.
My father had taught me that, as well.
Not only could I make the marks on my skin—courtesy of the bastard—disappear, I could disappear wholly.
Usually at his behest. This last time?
All me.
He was gone. Burning in the flames of hell, I hoped.
Still he saw me. I felt his nauseating gaze on my body, his clammy touch on my flesh. That’s why I burned myself sometimes.
After all, I’d been taught well how to hide scars.
Sometimes, though, even burning didn’t help.
Sometimes, I wasn’t sure anything ever would.