The hold he had on her slacked, his voice was even when he asked, “Come again?”
“I was, and then you called and told me about Harley.” She moved away from him because she had to get it out, all of it and then she would brace for the storm that followed and hoped like hell they got to the other side together. “I talked to Harley’s assistant…” Arissa pulled a hand through her hair, watching the twisting of Hank’s face. “There’s no easy way to say this.” She leveled him with pain-filled eyes. “Your mother used to work at a shelter in Charleston. And from what I uncovered…fuck. I think your mother kidnapped you and—”
Hank blinked his eyes and in the second it took him to do so, his brain registered Arissa’s last words. His voice was low, but when he spoke, cutting Arissa off, it was rough. “Excuse me?” Hank took a step back wanting another few inches between them.
Arissa felt cold, right to the bone from the harshness of his tone, but she didn’t let up. He needed to know. “Catherine Barbos, your mom, worked at a shelter. She helped addicts who were pregnant. One addict had a baby but she overdosed. There’s no records on that baby, and those who knew of him were told about the baby by your mom.” She paused, Hank’s eyes growing darker with every word she spoke, then she added the last. “There’s no record of your mother ever giving birth, and more damning, there’s no record of Henry and Catherine Weathers prior to nineteen eighty-four.”
Hank swayed, the cold sensation flowing through his veins caused a chill down his spine. He was trying to process all the information but nothing was penetrating. Nothing but how Arissa, the woman he loved, the woman he was going to build a life with deceived him. The words came out one by one in a deep rumble. “You went behind my fucking back?”
The way he was looking at her almost brought her to her knees. She had known she was risking everything, and seeing the look in his eyes, she feared she really had lost him, but he needed to know the truth. He deserved to know the truth and if that cost her him…just thinking it had her biting back the sob. “I did. I had hoped to bring you peace, to bring Catherine peace, I never imagined I’d learn this.” She took a step closer and he took a step away. Her heart cracked, and her voice broke. “It’s not an excuse, but my heart was in the right place.”
The woman standing in front of him wasn’t the one he thought he knew. The pain hit his chest, the ache in his heart causing him to stumble back, grabbing the railing. He lowered his head, his eyes moving to his sneakers. “Get out,” he whispered.
Arissa didn’t move, refusing to believe those words, wishing with everything in her that he’d close the distance, pull her close, but he wouldn’t even look at her. She stood helpless, looking at the one thing in the world she wanted but he didn’t want her, not anymore. “I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”
When he only stood there, she turned, her heart splintering in her chest. She didn’t remember walking back to her car. All that played through her mind was the sight of Hank’s devastation. She had wanted to help him, but instead she’d broken him and—she tried to breathe through the unbearable pain—she’d lost him.
Hank heard her steps and with every one she took the pain radiated through his body. He was breathing heavily through his nose trying to keep his emotions at bay. Anger and sadness struggled inside him. Finally, he raised his head just in time to see her car pull out onto the street. He watched as she slowed to almost a full stop before she hit the gas and was gone.
Kidnapped?
Catherine Barbos?
Nineteen eighty-four?
His mind was spinning out of control. Numbly, Hank moved into his house. Walked to the island, eyed the pie that he had made for Arissa as a surprise. In a blink of an eye, he snatched it up and chucked it across the room. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the space. His legs gave out, falling to his ass, Hank leaned his back against the island. Legs bent, elbows to his knees, he let his head fall into his hands.
He didn’t allow himself to drown in the thoughts running through his mind. He had been the sheriff of Summerville for eight years; he wasn’t just going to lay down. He was going to get to the bottom of it. Rising, he snatched his keys from the island and bolted out the door. Within a few moments he was flying into his parents’ driveway, flinging the truck into park before jumping out. Taking the steps two at a time, Hank entered his parents’ house and made a beeline to the kitchen.
His mother looked up from the dishes she was washing, saw the look on his face, turned off the water, braced and asked, “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Hank didn’t sugarcoat it, just blurted out, “You kidnap me?”
All the color rushed from Catherine’s face, her hands gripped the edge of the sink. She knew this day was coming, had known it would come and still she wasn’t prepared. “Who told you that?” she whispered.
“Does it matter,” he shot out and asked again, his voice firmer this time. “Did you kidnap me?”
“Jesus,” she muttered, and moved to the table, pulled out a chair and sank down heavily onto it. “I knew we should have told you.” She glanced up with concern in her eyes. “We love you. It wasn’t a kidnapping. Your birth mother was an addict. She died and instead of letting you become collateral damage, we gave you a home, a family, love.”
Hank leveled hard eyes on
