Hush (Black Lotus #3)(51)

“Okay.” I’ll agree to just about anything at this point.

We’re back in the car and driving to the address we were given, and soon enough, we’re pulling into a nice suburban neighborhood with large, New England-style coastal houses lining the streets. Children are outside riding bikes and playing, and people are walking their dogs. Everyone looks happy, enjoying the last hours of the afternoon before the sun sets.

Declan slows the car when he turns onto Fairview but doesn’t stop as we pass the house.

“It’s this one. The two-story colonial,” he says.

I look out the windshield at the beautiful house, and my stomach knots when I think about that being my father’s home.

“I say we give it a couple hours, let it get darker, and then we come back. Maybe we can catch him coming home from work.”

Anxiety mixed with every other emotion swarms in the pit of my gut. How can this possibly be happening when I’ve spent my whole life mourning his death? And now there’s a possibility that I might see him tonight, that he could be alive. It’s too much for me to understand and digest.

“Elizabeth?”

My throat restricts like a vice around the sadness inside, and I simply look at him and nod my approval to his plan.

We kill time and head to a local coffee joint. Declan makes a few business calls while I sip a hot tea and read some local Gazette magazine with all the town’s happenings. We drove around for a bit before stopping here, and it seems like a quaint place to live. There isn’t much, and everything is really spread out, but the neighborhoods are nice.

“We should get going,” Declan says, and I quickly order another tea to go.

Very few words have been spoken today; my emotions are much too high to talk, and Declan hasn’t pushed for conversation, which I appreciate. I need the silence right now.

Hopping back into the inconspicuous four-door car that Declan rented, we head back over to the house. This time, when we enter the neighborhood, the sidewalks are empty and the streetlights are on. Windows are lit while the families that live inside are probably eating their dinners, and when we pull up to what we think is my dad’s home, a few rooms are lit up as well.

We park along the curb on the opposite side of the street, and I stare into the windows, hoping to see something.

“Someone is in there,” I whisper.

“I don’t see any movement, but I agree. Too many lights are on for nobody to be home.”

No cars are in the driveway, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any in the garage.

“What do we do?”

“We wait,” Declan responds. “See if anyone comes out or if anyone comes home.”

So that’s what we do.

We sit.

We wait.

My mind doesn’t though. It keeps spinning thoughts around, plucking at my heartstrings. They swirl in a kaleidoscope of what-ifs. So many that I can’t keep them inside, so I ask Declan, “What if he’s married?” My voice trembles in despair. “I mean, this is too big a house for just one person, right?”

Declan looks at me and takes my hand, his face mottled in sorrow, and after a span of silence, he responds, “It’s possible.”

I look at the clock; it’s past eight. We’ve been sitting out here for hours when bright headlights beam our way.

“Elizabeth,” Declan murmurs urgently when the SUV pulls into the driveway.

I hold my breath as my heart pounds rapidly against my chest, the sound filling my ears. Leaning forward, I see the driver’s side door open, and when a man steps out, his back is to me. He reaches into the car and pulls out a briefcase at the same time the front door swings open and a young girl comes running out. And when that man turns around, I choke back an audible gasp, gripping Declan’s hand tightly.

“That’s him,” he voices with a look of pure astonishment, but I’m in a state of shock when I see my daddy pull this child into his arms and hug her.

“Dad, why are you so late?” I hear her muffled voice from outside the car ask him, and tears force their way down my cheeks like knives.

“I’m sorry, princess. I got tied up with a client,” he says, and I remember his voice like it was just this morning when I heard it last.

But it was me that was his princess.

Everything plays in slow motion, and when I look at his face from across the street, there isn’t an ounce of uncertainty he’s my dad. It’s that same face, the same eyes, the same smile that visits me in my dreams. Except now he’s older with a head of silver hair. The last I saw him he was in his thirties, and now he’s nearing sixty.

But that smile . . .

The smile he gives that girl—his daughter—that was mine. It was always mine, and now it’s hers.

I swore to myself that if I ever found him, I’d run to him, grab him, and never let him go. But when I see a woman and a boy walking out of the house, it’s another slap in my face—he’s no longer mine to run to. He’s theirs.

It becomes too much.

I can’t believe life would do this to me.

I want to die.

“Drive,” I cry, my voice shaky and unrecognizable.

But Declan doesn’t start the car.

“Elizabeth . . .”

“Get me out of here,” I plead.

He releases my hand and starts the car, and as soon as he begins driving, I split wide open and sob—loud and ugly.