Epiphany (Legacy of Payne) (27 page)

“Be careful,” he said as Joe slid behind the wheel. “And call me the minute you get back. I don’t care how late it is.” The warmth in his voice traveled to my toes.

“I will.” We said our goodbyes and ended the call. “You need me to drive?” I asked Joe, ignoring his tight expression. “You’ve been driving since this morning.”

“No, I’m good.” He stared straight ahead, refusing to even glance in my direction.

“Okay.” I waited until we’d been on the road a while before bringing up what was sure to be a difficult conversation. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“You said a lot of stuff earlier.”

“About us being friends. I can’t give you more than that.” I scooted in my seat and faced him. “Friends don’t kiss each other.”

“We’re not just friends, Mac. We’ve never been
just friends
. We shared an apartment for fuck sake.”

“And you moved out of that apartment, remember? Right after you accused me of lying.” At the reminder, the familiar ache in my chest returned. Would it ever stop hurting?

“I didn’t want to believe you,” he said quietly. “I wanted it to be a lie. So bad. I still do.” He swerved onto the shoulder and jerked to a stop, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “The thought of anyone doing that to you . . .” He blinked several times, keeping time to the cars whirring past us. “I should’ve been there . . . should’ve never gone camping that weekend.”

We fell silent, and a strangely peaceful aura settled over me as we sat on the side of the road. His regret was tangible, and it knocked down another little piece of my wall.

“Aidan thinks I should come forward.”

“Well that’s one thing we can agree on.” He turned in his seat and met my eyes. “I’ll support you one-hundred percent.” His hand rose, hesitantly, and he brushed his thumb across my lips. The familiarity of that gesture flooded me with warmth. A small part of me still hadn’t let go of him, still hung onto the years we’d had together.

I’d always assumed I’d marry him one day. How frightening to think that things could change so irrevocably in the space of five minutes. Three-hundred seconds—the time it took to check the mail or run into the store for a gallon of milk—that was all it had taken for his father to steal forever from us.

I pushed his hand away. “We broke up.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s set in stone.”

“In my mind it is. You need to accept that, and you need to respect me when I tell you no.”

That single word settled between us like a wall—a wall made of bulletproof glass that could neither break nor dent. The pain on his face told me he got the message. “Fine,” he muttered. He pulled onto the highway again, and the last leg of our trip passed in stop-and-go traffic. Eventually, the Seattle skyline came into view.

“So where to? I swear, Mac, you’re taking me on a joyride here.”

I entered the address into my phone’s GPS and gave him directions, and fifteen minutes later he parked across the street from the bustling Starbucks where I was due to meet Hamilton Payne.

“You gotta give me some answers.” His fingers tapped a frustrated beat against the steering wheel. “You’ve had seven hours to come clean about all this.” His gesture encompassed the busy street and sidewalks. “Why are we here?”

“You didn’t have to come along,” I reminded him. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Joe sighed and dropped back against the headrest.

Sitting still was impossible. My foot bounced against the floorboard as I stared across the street. The chaotic atmosphere surrounding the coffee shop was no doubt the result of Black Friday. People cluttered the sidewalks, bumping into each other as they entered and exited the neighboring shops, most struggling to carry their packages.

A black Mercedes pulled into a space across from where we’d parked. I recognized Hamilton instantly. His tall, imposing build wasn’t easy to forget.

This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.

I got out of the car before I chickened out. “Stay here.” I slammed the door, silencing Joe’s protests, and took my time crossing the street. A breeze disrupted my hair, and I pulled my jacket tighter. Trees lined the sidewalk, their sparse leaves glittering like spun gold in the sun’s last rays of light.

I welcomed the warmth of the coffee shop and rubbed my hands together as I searched the interior for Hamilton. I found him seated at a small table in the far corner away from the other customers. Needing something to keep my hands busy, I ordered a mocha and then forced my feet in his direction.

His expression was unreadable as I slid in across from him. He took a sip from his cup and pierced me with cool, hazel eyes. “You said you needed to talk to me about Aidan?”

“I only said that to get you here.”

He clenched his jaw. “Of course you did. Well I’m here. What do you want?”

“Do you remember a woman named Jane Hill?”

He blinked. “Can’t say I do.”

I took a sip of my mocha and swallowed, despite the scalding temperature. “She grew up in Watcher’s Point.” I paused for a beat. “She’s my mom.”

He tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “What does this have to do with me?”

“According to my mom, everything. Please, it’s important. Do you know her? Her name’s Jane Hill,” I repeated. “You would have crossed paths with her in 1989. Her husband had just passed, and she had three kids back then.”

He rubbed his chin. “The real question here is why are you harassing me about her?”

“She said . . . she claims you’re my father.”

He actually laughed. “You should have come up with something more original. You’re not the first ‘kid’ to come knocking on my wallet.”

“This isn’t about money.” I swallowed and prayed my hyperactive emotions wouldn’t make an appearance.

Hamilton rose and, casting a furtive glance around us, schooled his features into a neutral mask. For the first time since arriving, I noticed the audience we’d attracted. “Find someone else to scam, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from my son.” He turned his back to me, and I felt as insignificant as a fly.

“Hamilton.” My voice splintered on his name. He turned and regarded me with an air of annoyance, and something inside me snapped. I grabbed the cup he’d left and dumped black coffee down the front of his immaculate suit.

He took a threatening step toward me, eyes narrowed. “Do you know who you’re dealing with?”

I held back tears as I stepped around him. “Yes, I think I do. No wonder Aidan can’t stand you.” I went to move toward the door, but his hand shot out and stopped me. I whirled, about to demand he remove his hand, but his stunned expression paralyzed me.

He opened his mouth and worked his jaw, but instead of speaking, he yanked me closer. His fist enclosed my wrist, and a long moment snuck by as he gaped at me.

“You see things,” he said, his voice low enough to avoid being overheard.

“Excuse me?”

“Your power. I can feel it.”

I tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip.

“Have you told Aidan about this? About what your mother claims?”

I gulped. “N-no. Is . . . is it true?”

Say no. Say this is a fluke. A morbid joke. Anything. Just say—

“You have power. I’d recognize it anywhere. We need a DNA test to be certain.”

I jerked from his grasp and my heart stopped. The glint in his eyes had changed. I no longer annoyed him; I intrigued him.

“No . . .” I shook my head helplessly. “It’s not true.” I heard him call after me as I bolted from the coffee shop, bumping into faceless people as I ran. I didn’t stop or look back until I threw myself into the passenger seat of my car. Hamilton stood across the street, searching the crowd of shoppers for me.

“What’s going on?” Joe asked.

I shook my head and sank low in my seat. “Just go. Get me out of here now.”

* * *
 

“You’re freaking me out, Mac.”

I was freaking myself out. I couldn’t stop crying and was almost hyperventilating as the truth crashed over me.

OhGodohGodohGod . . .

I’d slept with my brother. I was in love with my brother.

“Come on. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Not now,” I said on a hiccup. Curling into a ball, I turned my back to him and let the sobs consume me. He pulled onto the shoulder of the highway and then gathered me against him. His arms wound around me, unrelenting yet strangely comforting. I clung to that comfort, afraid I’d break if I didn’t have something to hold on to.

“Mac, please.”

I couldn’t speak and after a while he gave up trying to pry it from me. By the time my tears dried, the temperature had dropped inside the car, and a deep chill crawled underneath my skin.

He rubbed the goose bumps from my arms. “I was thinking about stopping to get something to eat. Are you hungry?” His voice dropped, and I knew him well enough to know what he was doing. Trying to pull me out of my despair. Trying to distract me.

“I’m not hungry.” My stomach flopped at the thought.

Without another word, he steered the car back onto the highway. The road disappeared underneath us, and I practically heard the wheels in his head spinning from where I sat. He took the next exit and pulled into a Burger King drive-thru.

“You haven’t eaten much today. You’ve gotta be hungry,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Just order your food.” I winced at my short tone. “I’ll think about it.”

The idea of unloading on someone was tempting. Heat flooded my cheeks at the thought of telling him the entire truth. No way could I tell my ex that I’d slept with my brother.

“That smells disgusting,” I complained, cracking my window and allowing the crisp air in. “I’ll never figure out how you can eat and drive without wearing at least half of it.”

He greeted me with a boyish grin. “What can I say? I’m the shit.” When he failed to get a response from me, he added, “Okay, Mac. What’s going on? Lay it on me. You’ll feel better.”

“Thomas Hill wasn’t my father.” The words escaped and hung in the air.

He wadded up the burger wrapper and tossed it in the bag. “What do you mean?”

“My mom lied to me.”

“Oh, man.” His shocked, blue-eyed gaze met mine. “So that’s the reason for this trip?”

I nodded. “I met my . . . my father.”

He raised a brow. “And it didn’t go well?”

“No.” I gnawed on my lower lip and watched as Tacoma sped by.

“What did he tell you? Did he deny it?”

“No.” I leaned against my window and closed my eyes, concentrating only on the hum of the road. Hamilton had known about my ability. A simple touch and he’d known. I still couldn’t grasp it, and I didn’t want to think about what it meant.

Joe fell silent. I wasn’t sure if he was giving me space to process, or if he didn’t know what else to say, but conversation was non-existent after that. I was too upset to let sleep take me so I gladly took over the wheel in Portland. He immediately fell asleep in the passenger seat, and the quiet wasn’t so disturbing with his soft snores filling the air.

All I could think of was Aidan. Nausea hit me, becoming more intense the closer we got to Watcher’s Point. I mentally rehearsed what I’d say and tried to think of the right words to use. Nothing sounded right. How would I ever face him again once he knew the truth? I’d have to tell him everything and then leave Watcher’s Point permanently. Move on. Never look back.

As the thought percolated through my head, I glanced into the rearview mirror at the blinding headlights following too closely. “What is up with this idiot?” I let out a curse and stepped on the gas, but the car kept pace.

“What’s going on?” Joe asked, stirring in his seat.

“This guy won’t get off my tail.”

He sat up straight and cranked his neck to see. “Where are we?”

“About ten miles outside of Watcher’s Point.”

“I’d slow down just to piss him off.”

I laughed. “I know you would. I’ve lost count of how many tailgaters you’ve driven mad.” The car behind us swerved into the oncoming lane and sped past, and only then did I realize a cop had been tailing us.

“Unbelievable!” Joe exclaimed. “That’s exactly why I don’t like cops. They think they own the road.”

We reached my apartment a few minutes after midnight. “Thanks for tagging along,” I said wryly, thinking of how he’d wormed his way into my car. Part of me was glad he’d come. The drive would have been long and lonely without someone along for the ride.

Joe gave me a funny look when I failed to shut off the ignition. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“I’ll follow you in my car.”

“No.” Absolutely not. No way did I want him knowing where Aidan lived. He was being much too pushy as it was. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t go by yourself, Mac.”

“Well that’s the beauty of us no longer being together—you don’t get a say in what I do. Go home.”

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

I inhaled and counted to ten. “His place isn’t far. I just need a few minutes alone.”

His expression softened, and I knew he was going to relent. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Fine,” he said as he opened the door, “but I’m calling you in a few minutes to make sure you get there okay. You better answer.”

“I will. Tell my mom I’m okay, will you?”

“Sure, but we’re not done. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I waited until he backed down the driveway before calling Aidan, but he didn’t answer. A chill went through me, and suddenly, I couldn’t wait to see him.

As I drove toward HWY 101, I realized how weird being alone was. Other than last night, the majority of which I’d spent in my apartment alternating between crying and scrubbing away the black grime, this was the first time in weeks I’d had to myself.

Bright, colorful lights flashed in the rearview mirror. I checked my speed, but going five over the limit didn’t normally catch the police’s radar. Just my luck. I’d probably caught the attention of a cop who needed to fill his quota.

I let off the accelerator and steered the car onto the shoulder. Fog drifted on the highway, and the lights atop the patrol car turned the scene into a misty kaleidoscope of color. My cell phone vibrated on the console, the display lighting the darkness with its soft glow. I switched off the ignition and answered the call.