He clears his throat, leaning a little closer to the camera. “I also want you to know we always loved you like our own. If you remember nothing else, please, remember that. I know that I'll be gone by the time you watch this. And that’s my choice, Aspen. Know that, too. I know what I’m headed for, and it’s what I want. Because it’s what’s going to keep you safe. I know you don’t understand, but please, trust me.”
He snickers, lowering his eyes. “I know that’s a lot to ask, considering what I’ve put you through. Please, remember the good times. Remember how loved you were. That was no act. I did, I do, and I always will love you. You don’t have to worry about me holding you back ever again. This is the last gift I can offer, and I offer it with all my heart.”
He sits up straighter, gives a firm nod, and the video ends.
I don’t know how long we sit in silence, Lucas and me. I don’t know if either of us is breathing.
Not my parents. They were never mine. How could I have never seen it? How didn’t I know? I should have felt something, right?
“Aspen…” Lucas’s voice has lost some of its strength. One look at him tells me he’s just as stunned as I am—wide eyes, mouth slightly open. “I had no idea. I assure you, none of us knew.”
“I understand.” That’s not true. I don’t understand anything. My whole life has been a lie. My real father was so dangerous my mother didn’t think we’d be safe around him. She was so afraid he’d find out that she hid me and gave me up right after birth. How many times did she think about me? Did we ever meet, and I didn’t know? He made it sound like they knew each other. What if she wanted to check on me?
This time, there’s nobody to provide answers. Everybody involved is missing or dead. I’ll never know.
“You look shaken up,” Lucas informs me. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He offers what could pass for an apologetic smile. “When it comes down to it, none of us do. You’ve been through enough to break a dozen full-grown men, but you’re still standing.” His brows draw together. “Everyone has a breaking point, though. I want to be sure you can get through it.”
“I can.” I hardly hear myself. I’m only saying what I know he wants to hear, anyway.
“Do you need me to walk you back to your room?”
“Actually, I don’t think I want to be alone right now. If you don’t mind. Could I stay here for a little while? Not for long. It’s only that I don’t think I should be alone with my thoughts.” I can see myself spiraling in my room with no one to talk to.
“Do you need to talk?”
“Not necessarily. But I might. I can’t think straight yet.”
He nods, rising, and crosses the room. His back is to me, but I hear ice hitting a glass before liquid follows it.
When he turns around, he’s holding a glass of amber liquid, extending his arm my way. “It seems to me you could use a drink.” He has no idea how right he is.
28
QUINTON
Ever since I heard about Mather’s death, I have wondered if my father had anything to do with it. A part of me hasn’t asked yet because I don’t want to hear the answer, and if he did kill him, I don’t want to keep it from Aspen. Which means not knowing seemed like a good alternative—until now.
Hearing about the video message Aspen’s dad recorded before his murder raises a new set of questions. Who set up the recording and sent it here, and most importantly, who is Aspen’s real father? Clyde made it sound like he knew who her father is and if he is so dangerous and unfit to be a father, do we have to worry about him finding out?
Those questions and more led me to flip open my laptop and open a video chat with my dad. As usual, it doesn’t take him long to answer my call.
“Quinton, everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I just wanted to ask you some things.”
“I figured you would call soon. I’m guessing this is about Clyde Mather?”
“Yes, did you kill him?”
“Not myself.”
I suppress an eye roll. “You know what I mean. Did you have him killed?”
“Yes, and no. It’s complicated, Quinton. I did have something to do with his death, and I am the one who set up the video for him.”
This doesn’t come as a surprise, as I figured he was involved somehow, but I still hate that I know now. “Do you know who her real father is?”
“No, I don’t. I asked him, and he wouldn’t tell me. I also tried to figure it out, going back to the time she was born and who Clyde was associated with at the time, but so far, I’ve come up empty.”