Another understatement.
‘And now?’ Cal asked. ‘How is he now?’
‘Better.’ Heather attempted a smile. ‘Much better. Eventually he landed himself in enough trouble that his doctor insisted on counselling, and that helped, I think. But he still can’t bear to talk about her, or hear her name. He took down all her photos, but... I look just like her, you see.’
Cal’s expression turned stony. ‘He took it out on you?’
‘No!’ Heather’s eyes widened. ‘No, my dad loves me. It was never... No. Not that. But I don’t think it made it any easier for him, having me there as a daily reminder.’
He’d tried so hard never to let on, bless him. But Heather had always known when he got that faraway look in his eye, watching her, that he was thinking of her mother.
‘So. Not quite so idyllic, then,’ Cal said.
He was watching her carefully, Heather noted as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Watching her responses, her reactions. His, however, seemed strangely absent. As if the story that had defined her whole life was more of an amusing anecdote than a tragedy. Apart from when he’d thought her father had hurt her, he’d been emotionless throughout the whole thing.
Heather was almost afraid of what that said about his own story.
She shrugged. ‘Not perfect, no. But it could have been worse. My father loves me, and that counts for a lot. He did his best by me once the worst of it was over.’ And she did her best by him in return. They were family, after all. They had to stick together. ‘Growing up without Mum...that was awful. But it was her choice.’
‘But not one you would ever have made?’ Cal said quietly.
‘No.’ Heather’s hands went protectively to her stomach. Her baby was barely more than a cluster of cells, and already she couldn’t imagine ever leaving it. ‘The worst part—well, no, not the worst part, but the part that lingered the longest—was the gossip. The scandal. I’ll for ever be the girl whose mother ran off with a student and left her behind. People can’t look at me and see past that once they know.’
‘I can,’ Cal said, and she knew he believed it.
She gave him a small smile. ‘Wait and see.’
He looked away. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you.’
‘People grow up with worse,’ Heather replied. She bit her lip and took a chance. ‘In fact, I’m almost certain that you did.’
He met her gaze with a crooked smile. ‘Is that a subtle hint that it’s my turn to share my pain?’
‘If you want to tell me,’ Heather replied, settling back in her chair.
The only problem was, as much as she knew she needed to hear it—for Daisy and Ryan’s sake—she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to. She already felt too close to this man. Had shared more than she’d meant to. It was as if she could feel the room—hell, the world—growing smaller around them, until they were all that mattered.
When she knew his truths, his secrets, how much harder would it be to pull back again? But all the same... She needed to know.
‘Tell me,’ she repeated.
And Cal began to talk.
* * *
‘Tell me.’
She’d said it as if it were nothing at all—a story round a campfire. As if there should be marshmallows. As if it wasn’t generations of secrets he was letting out.
Why should he tell her? Why not just lie? Make up a slightly awkward childhood filled with minor issues and small hurts? Pretend, the way every member of his family had for hundreds of years, that they were upstanding, respectable people?
But then he met her steady green gaze and knew that he would tell her everything.
What was this hold she had over him? It was as if her goodness, her determination to do the right thing, was lashing him to her morals.
Because he wanted so badly to be more like her. To have less of the Bryce blood and darkness in him.
Because he wanted to believe that he could give that to Daisy and Ryan. Make their future brighter than their family’s past.
But only if he told the truth now.
‘My family...the Bryce family...they’ve held land and power and influence here for hundreds and hundreds of years. And their reputation has always been...impeccable. No scandal, no mistresses, no illegitimate children.’