“I had to. What else could I do?”

I ignored her question and turned away to pace. I felt caged. I needed to release, but that would destroy us. “What else did he tell you, huh?”

“He told me who killed John.”

The blood in my veins hardened to ice. My skin prickled and the hair on the back of neck rose. “Who?”

“Greg.”

The face of the private investigator I had hospitalized the day I found out Kennedy was kidnapped formed, and I gritted my teeth to keep from spewing as much venom and hate as I could muster. I should have killed him. If I had, John would be alive. It was the first time I expressed regret over his death. It was still hard for me to admit love for the man who saved me.

“There’s more.” I didn’t bother to respond, but I didn’t have to. “He was hired by your father to kidnap Kennedy.”

“Mitch didn’t have any money.” Any money he did have couldn’t have been enough to hire three men to kidnap someone.

“He said someone owed him.”

“Who?”

“He didn’t say.”

The room descended into silence, but I was too in tune with her not to notice she had more to say. I could sense her inner struggle.

“Talk, Lake.”

“I won’t apologize for protecting you. You don’t want to lose me, but I refuse to lose you.” That wasn’t what I was expecting her to say. I inched closer despite the voice in my head telling me to stay away. “Tell me you can forgive me.”

“Do you think now is the time to ask for forgiveness? You’re still lying to me.”

“Protecting you!”

“I don’t need your fucking protection.”

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to hear what else I have to say.”

“So help me—”

“Uncle Keke?” We both froze at the tiny voice infiltrating the door.

Lake flung open the door and found Ken standing on the other side clutching a one-armed doll.

“Ken, baby, what’s wrong?”

“I broke my doll.” She lifted the doll up for Lake to inspect with fat tears in her eyes. Lake took the doll while I scooped her up. I met Lake’s eyes over her head, and we silently called a truce.

“Where’s the arm, sweetie?” Ken dug the arm from the pocket of what Sheldon called her day pajamas. I traded Ken for the doll, and she immediately hid her face on my baby’s shoulder while I inspected the doll. It looked like a simple fix. I popped the arm back in the doll and tested it out. Chances were it would break again, but to a four-year-old, it would be a miracle.

“What’s her name, Ken?”

“Lulu,” she answered without lifting her head.

“Well, I think Lulu is all better and ready for you to play with her.” Her head lifted then, and when she noticed her doll looking good as new, her eyes grew as wide as saucers. Her girlish squeal threatened to blow my eardrums as she scrambled from Lake’s arms and snatched the doll from my lap.

“Thank you, Uncle Keke. She scrambled up my lap and choked me with a hug for which she made up for with the sweetest kiss to my cheek. Lake watched with tears in her eyes, and I restrained from rolling my eyes.

Women.

I pulled her to my lap when Ken jumped down to run screaming for her dad.

“That was real sweet of you, Uncle Keke.” She smiled, but I could only stare back at her. Her smile fell, and worry replaced the temporary escape Kennedy had brought with her broken doll. “What is it?” Her voice shook, and I felt it in my chest.

“I don’t think I can forgive you.”

* * *

I shouldn’t have said it. For the rest of the night, I had to pretend not to notice her fight not to cry and then to finally give in and cry all night. Like a bastard, I ignored her turmoil and offered her no comfort. I knew what went through her head as she cried.

Did I still love her?

Would I leave her?

I knew, and I didn’t do shit about it.

Every night she spent in my bed, I always held her in my arms, safe from the monsters that threatened to break us apart. She counted on that connection just as I did, but we were both denied it tonight because of her lies and my pride.

When I couldn’t trust myself anymore not to give in, I left her alone for the solitude the couch provided.

In five years, Lake had taught me how to love, but she hadn’t taught me how to forgive. Until now, I had no idea it was something that still eluded me. Effortlessly, she had become my reason, so while I knew I could never let her go, a part of me feared we would never be the same. I couldn’t bring myself to trust her. I only felt the need to control her for purely selfish reasons. I couldn’t be without her. I refused.