Sweet Little Memories (Sweet #3)(3)

“I’m talking about the years of friendship. You were my family, Jasper. And this . . . this . . .” He pointed at the photos in my hand. “This is it? This is how you wanted to destroy us?”

Jasper wasn’t quick with a response. It didn’t matter because I couldn’t take my eyes off Stone. All I could see was the pain rising through his anger as Stone glared menacingly at Jasper.

“Were you going to tell her? No, you weren’t. You were going to hurt her the same way my mother did. She didn’t deserve that. This was me protecting her.”

“No, Jasper. This was you getting revenge like the spoiled child you still are,” Stone snarled with disgust. “Leave. Leave before I throw your sorry motherfucking ass out the nearest window.”

I didn’t expect Jasper to leave. My body was wound as tightly as it could get preparing for the first strike. But Jasper stepped back. He turned away from Stone, but stopped in the hallway in front of the stairs.

“She knows now. That’s what matters.” He’d lost his smug indignation.

“Leave!” Stone’s voice shook the windows.

I finally managed to tear my eyes off Stone to watch Jasper retreating. I still held the photos in my hand. As he stepped down to the top step, he glanced back at me. “You have my number.”

Stone turned and lunged at Jasper as I reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Don’t.” I managed to say something finally. “This isn’t about him.”

This wasn’t about Jasper. Stone felt betrayed. Although I should feel the same, my chest ached for him. Stone hadn’t been the one to tell me the Van Allan secrets. He’d been the one to correct the lies. Jasper’s actions were different. He’d chosen to hurt Stone. He’d sought to cause pain. Stone had no real family and he’d just lost trust in the only family he cared about.

When Stone turned to me he looked defeated. The fury was gone, replaced by sorrow. He looked hollow. I wanted to hold him. Reassure him. But the photos in my hand hadn’t disappeared. The truth behind what I held still dangled out there between us.

“Is he yours?” I asked. Waiting wasn’t possible. As much as I hurt for Stone at this moment, I needed him to explain. To assure me he wasn’t a heartless man who allowed his son to be raised by a man who had abused him when he was a child.

“His mother was our maid. I was fifteen when my father hired her. She was young—always dressed in short skirts and tight tops. She seduced me and taught me all about sex. What happened between us wasn’t love. It was simply lust. She successfully lured and married my father at the same time we were having sex. I made her stop coming to me when they were married. One month after their wedding, the morning sickness started.”

He stopped speaking. He was lost in thought, his focus intense. A crease had taken up residence on his forehead—a direct result of the angry scowl on his face.

I didn’t say anything. Not able to move from where I stood, I simply waited.

“My father beat me from the time I was five years old until I towered over him at sixteen. I don’t mean with a belt. When I was small, he threw me on the ground by my hair and kicked me. Held me up against the wall with his hand on my throat while I turned blue. Called me names no father should ever call a son. Broke my bones a few times, but I survived. As I grew, he threw fists at me. It didn’t get less violent. I had grown, so he used more force. I was harder to hurt.” He stopped and inhaled deeply before lifting his head. His expression was void of any emotion. It was an empty hole and that broke me.

“When my stepmother told me she was pregnant, I thought my life was over. In my father’s world, everything belongs to him. He always gets what he wants. If anyone tries to take something from him, his brutality has no bounds. When he found out his son had slept with his new wife before he had, my status as the son he had to abuse disappeared. In an instant, I’d become a threat. Some fucked up form of competition.”

My stomach was in knots. I felt ill. I knew his father had hurt him, but I never knew the extent of the abuse. How was Stone a functioning, successful adult after that childhood? Or was he? I didn’t know him that well. He’d hidden his son from me. He could be hiding more. Did he have more darkness inside that he covered up? I hated myself for thinking he was deceitful. But the fear was there. How could it not be?

“You still work for him. He’s raising your son.” I paused after saying that aloud. Facing it and accepting it were two different things.

Stone dipped his chin as if he needed a moment to regroup. When raised his head up he looked like a man who was silently pleading and preparing for battle at the same time. “Do you think Wills is my son?”

It was a question I had thought I knew the answer to until he asked me. I held the proof in my hand. Wasn’t Wills’ paternity already established? He hadn’t denied anything. He had explained his relationship with his stepmother. I wasn’t sure why he was asking me this now. I thought he’d explain why, try to help me understand.

I held the photos up. “Yes.”

I wanted Stone to say something, but he didn’t. With that one word, his entire face shuttered closed. That bored unavailable look I hated so much had returned.

He straightened and walked past me down the hallway. He didn’t stop or say a word. All I heard was his bedroom door as it closed behind him.