Exodus (The Ravenhood #2)(126)

I set her wine glass down and stand. “You’re right, Mom. I inherited your heart. And don’t flatter yourself about it, because it’s been nothing but a fucking curse.”

“I know that too.” She reads my posture and pleads with me from where she sits. “Please don’t go, Cecelia. Don’t go away like this.”

I stare down at her and shake my head. “You’ve been lying to me my whole life.”

“If I would have told you this when you were younger, you only would have subjected yourself to his rejection. He loved you the only way he could, from afar.”

“It doesn’t make it okay! I treated him horribly. You couldn’t even come clean when he was dying?!”

“He didn’t want you there.”

Stunned, I stare at her. “But you were?”

“I sat by his side and kissed his lips before he passed.”

“Jesus, Mom!”

“He didn’t want you there because he didn’t want you feeling guilty because you didn’t deserve to. He didn’t want absolution. He was an absent father. He chose to build his kingdom over the both of us. He was incapable of voicing his feelings or expressing his true emotions. You wouldn’t have gotten the reunion you wanted.”

“I should have had the choice!”

“You had a choice. You met the man he was. That was Roman. Let me be clear. There were no deathbed confessions. That’s not who he was.”

I remember the day he stopped me at the foot of the stairs, his eyes pleading with me to see him past his mistakes. But I’d begged him in that boardroom and got nothing but a whisper of the same look.

“That house he built,” she rasps out, “it was a daydream we shared when we were our happiest, every last detail of it down to that garden which was meant to be mine. He punished himself by building it, a sordid monument to what could have been.”

I furiously wipe the tears from my eyes.

“It’s taken me twenty-six years to forgive myself, Cecelia. And I will serve out the rest of my life only truly loving one man. Don’t get me wrong, I love Timothy, so much, he’s good to me, and I’ve given him all I have left to give, but your father was the love of my life. Whether or not he deserved it. We truly don’t get a choice.”

“Do you have any idea what keeping this from me has cost me?! Do you even care? Of course, you don’t. You were too busy wallowing when I needed you most. You were selfish. He was selfish.”

She reaches out and grabs my hand as I glare down at her. “I care. Cecelia, I love you with my heart and soul. I did what I thought was best for you. We both did. You, too, are the love of my life, and I’m sorry I was selfish, and I’m sorry I got sick, but I hope one day you’ll forgive me, that you’ll forgive us both.”

“I have to go.” I pull my hand away, and she nods, her eyes glossing with fresh tears.

“Please don’t do what he did, please, Cecelia, don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you too.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s paid. Don’t you get that?”

Her brows draw as I shake my head at her utter ignorance. “I’ve paid dearly for your lies, for his mistakes, and I still am.”

“What do you mean?”

The decision comes easy.

“I guess we all have our secrets, Mom.” Stalking off, I make a beeline for my car. It’s when I slam my door I catch sight of her gazing on at me from the side of the house as I tear out of the driveway.





Urn in my hands, I stand at the edge of the garden and try to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in this house. Images of me running around as my parents sat and watched me play. Posing for pictures with my prom date under the canopy of wisteria as my mother snapped away while Roman eyed him in warning, demanding I be home by curfew. Coming down the stairs on Christmas morning to open presents next to a crackling fire. In my year here, I remember more than once picturing a family here, a happy family, and thinking the house had gone to waste, but that’s precisely what the house represented—the life we could have had.

“You were the first man to break my heart, and I guess it’s fitting. But you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to punish us both. I came here to collect your fortune, but I would give every dime back for just a few minutes with you. Just to tell you I may not ever understand you fully, but in discovering what you did, I felt like your daughter for the first time in my life.”

My breath hitches as I remember my dream from last night, a little girl reaching for her father’s hand over and over only to come up empty.

“But I refuse to be the coward you were. That’s what you taught me. I won’t make your mistakes. I’d rather be reckless and in love than die safe without a real legacy. And it has nothing to do with money or position. I think that’s what you realized. I just wonder when you did.” I crumble a little where I stand. “At least I now know you were capable, and that’s something. But you didn’t build this home in vain. This is the place where I was the happiest I’ve ever been, so I’m sharing it with you.” I open the urn and scatter the ashes in the whipping wind, they catch on a gust and carry for a few feet before disbursing amongst the withered branches of the vines. And for a brief moment, I picture Roman in the fully bloomed garden, mourning the woman he loved and the daughter he abandoned, and with that image, I make peace with the house, haunted by the family that never existed.