At least, that’s what I tell myself as I pull away and head to the waiting plane.
33
Scarlett
Lycan saunters into the office where I’m perched on the couch, reading my Kindle. The latest romance novel from my favorite author released and I’m already four chapters in. But when I look up at my husband, all those romantic thoughts dissipate.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, pushing to my feet as he closes the distance between us.
He settles on the sofa, pulling me into his lap, and I wonder what has happened. From the expression on his face, it looks like he’s gotten some bad news. And that is never good.
“Darius has been in contact,” he starts, and my chest tightens. Lycan said that his brother had been keeping tabs on my folks, making sure they both behave. Because of reasons I don’t want to know, torturing my dad with what we know about him is better than sending him to prison. Although, I think that was something Darius enjoyed more than Lycan.
“Tell me?” I plead, looking at my husband, taking in his expression, which is deadly serious, I pull in a deep breath and hold it.
“You dad committed suicide last night,” he finally says, and my lungs expel the breath I’d been holding onto. “We’re not sure if it was murder made to look like he took his own life or not, but there’s an investigation into it.”
My mouth opens, but I find no words. My heart slowly cracks at the thought of my father taking his life. But not in sadness, more that I didn’t get a chance to have a normal relationship with him. He’s a bad man. He’s done deplorable things, and my heart aches because I feel cheated that my family is so broken.
Lycan’s thumbs swipe at my cheeks, and I realize he’s wiping tears away. “I’m sorry, little red,” he tells me. The seriousness in his eyes tells me he knows exactly how I feel. And he does to a certain extent. He lost his father as well as his mother, but at least he had a close relationship with Conall Shaw.
“Is it wrong that I don’t feel sad for him, but sad for me instead?” I ask, my voice raspy with emotion as I blink away more tears that seem to be coming more frequently. It’s as if the floodgates have opened and I can’t close them again.
Lycan’s arms cocoon me. He holds me tight, keeping me close to his chest, and I can hear his heart beating in a steady rhythm. The calmness of his demeanor grounds me, and even though I let my emotions run free for the first time in a long while, especially for my family, I’m safe right here.
When I first came to Lycan’s home, I didn’t think I could ever love him. There was so much anger inside me, but now I realize it wasn’t him I was angry at, it was my father. He was the one who put me in a situation where I could’ve easily been in danger. I’m thankful Lycan stepped in. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if he hadn’t, and that’s the worst part. My father didn’t care as long as he got away with what he did.
My life meant nothing to the man who created me, and that’s what hurts the most. Parents are meant to keep you safe and protect you, and yet, the man holding me now is the one who did all that and more.
I don’t know how long we sit in the silence of the office. But as darkness takes hold of the room, I realize it must’ve been hours because when I finally open my eyes, it’s nighttime. At least, it’s dark out.
“What time is it?” I ask, lifting my head from Lycan’s shoulder to find him watching me. His gaze intense, warm, yet filled with love and affection.
“Almost seven,” he tells me before pressing his lips to my forehead. “You needed rest, and I wanted to hold you.” His voice is rough with emotion, and I wonder how I got so lucky.
“So, you spent the afternoon watching me sleep?” I ask, a small smile playing on my lips, and he nods. “Most people would say that’s strange.”
“I never once claimed to be normal, little red,” he tells me before suddenly standing, holding me tighter as a squeal falls from my lips. He carries me through the house until we reach the kitchen. When Lycan sets me down on the countertop, my stomach growls.
“I’m hungry,” I tell him, causing him to chuckle. It’s obvious that’s the problem, since the silence is shattered by my rumbling stomach.
“I’m guessing my girl wants something quickly, so a sandwich will have to do,” he informs me, and I sit there, my legs dangling from the counter as he moves about the kitchen. I haven’t ever seen him cook and watching him just making a sandwich is definitely one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed.