“Let’s clear the air, Richter. Who is your father?” I ask, just to be sure. He’d called Cleo his sister, but that wasn’t a guarantee.
“Luke Greene,” he answers, and I have to admit it hurts. I manage another nod, forcing a smile onto my face again as I lean back in the chair.
“Well, then… I guess we’re brothers, Richter. I’m always glad to have more family in my life, and I’m happy you came to find me.”
“That’s not possible.” Richter frowns for a second and shakes his head. “He would have told me about you, and I didn’t come here to find you. I came here to find Cleo and bring her home.”
“Well, he didn’t tell me about you either,” I reply with a chuckle, ignoring his second mention of Cleo for now.
“Who was your mom?” Richter asks, sitting up straight in the chair, and I can tell he’s trying to look bigger.
“A woman named Sheila,” I answer, spreading my hands. “I don’t keep secrets in my house, Richter. You can ask me anything you like.”
I respect the fact that he doesn’t immediately ask a question. He waits, thinks, and I can see Luke in his expression… but there’s something softer to it. Maybe it’s the way his eyes keep returning to my face, judging but curious. He doesn’t believe me yet, but he will.
Family always knows family.
He shakes his head and meets my gaze again, voice harder this time. “I just want to know if you have Cleo or not.”
Hmm.
It’s my turn to appraise him, to weigh how to answer, because I’m sure that I know secrets that Richter doesn’t. After all, he didn’t know about me, so why would he know how she came to be a part of my family?
Luke brought Cleo to my house thirteen years ago, and I’d been stunned to know he had another daughter. Even more surprised to see that she was the same age as my own kids—and he’d never mentioned her once. Not on any visit to my house where he’d shared his love with Tristan and Xoe. Not a single goddamn mention of the little girl until she was in his arms on my front porch.
He’d kept so many secrets, but on that day Luke had entrusted me with Cleo. Given me the gift of his own child, his blood, to be raised in my house. And with her had finally come the acknowledgement that I was his blood too.
His son.
His first born.
It was all I’d ever wanted, but he’d never mentioned another child as he stood on my front porch. Never spoke of a son as Cleo cried and reached for him while I tried to comfort her.
He’d left that day and never came back.
Why share your secrets now, Luke?
“So…” I clear my throat and brush some dust off the kitchen table. “Luke told you where Cleo was?”
“No, I found her online. Through Social Services. You received benefits for her at this address.”
“Ah.” I nod and look at him, feeling the stern edge slip into my voice. “Does your father know you’re here?”
“No.” Richter shakes his head. “He died… ten years ago now.”
The whole world tilts and I find my fingers have a white-knuckle grip on the edge of the table as those words whirl in my head.
Dead? Luke is dead?
“What?” I ask on a ragged breath, because it feels like my ears are buzzing and I’m sure I didn’t hear him correctly.
“Dad died a long time ago,” Richter replies, and he leans forward. “You didn’t know?”
Shaking my head, I try not to let the uneasy feeling in my bones show on my face, but I know I’m failing. It’s impossible to think about, impossible to be true. Luke was… constant. He may have looked older in those years when he reached out again, came to meet my family, to see the legacy I’d built—but dead? Just a few years after he brought Cleo to my door?
It hurts worse than the fact that he kept Richter from me.
My father is gone, and I’d only ever heard him call me ‘son’ once… but now that memory means so much more.
And Cleo was his last gift to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat, surprised by the swell of emotion I feel, but now I know it’s even more important that Richter found me, found us.
“Who have you been living with?” I ask, and he just stares at me, so I rephrase the question. “I mean, is your mother still there?”
“No, she died too. Before dad.”
“You’ve been alone all this time?” The thought makes me want to pull him into a hug, to let him know he’s loved, but he doesn’t know me well enough yet—and he’s not mine.
At least, not until he chooses it.
“No… I’ve been with Skylar. My other sister.” The words roll off his tongue so easily, and I’m still so stunned by everything else the boy has shared that the reality of another child isn’t as much of a shock.
Actually, the absurdity of it all has me laughing under my breath as I shake my head.
“I loved Luke, you know? I really did… but goddamn he could be a bastard.” Reaching across the table, I pat Richter’s arm. “Don’t worry though, you’re welcome here. We’re family, and that’s all that matters.”
“Thanks,” Richter mumbles, twisting in his chair to look back at the living room, surveying the house, and I know he’s looking for Cleo—but he won’t find her. She’ll be tucked away somewhere with Sierra, and if the boy thinks I’m just handing over one of my children… he’s going to be very disappointed.
Then Xoe starts walking toward the kitchen and Richter’s eyes are only on her. My girl is beautiful, blonde hair like Marian’s, curves that
