Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
I parked in front of the duplex in the more rural part of New York. There was still evidence of the fire on one side and minor damage on the other. Olivia could have died there because of Emmett's bad choices.
I swallowed hard before opening the door and heading up to the house. But, before I could get to the front door, Anthony appeared through the front door.
"Nick?" Anthony emerged from the shadow of the doorway, tension visibly draining from his shoulders. His face softened, years seeming to fall away as he stretched his hand out to me. "I almost didn't believe it when I saw you through the window."
"It's good to see you too." I clasped his outstretched hand, feeling the weight of nine years lift in that simple gesture. We'd both aged, but his eyes still held that same steady warmth I remembered.
Anthony ushered me into the living room. "Can I get you something to drink?" I wanted something substantial but had to drive myself back to the airport, so I shook my head. "What are you doing here?"
"I came back to find Emmett." I followed Anthony into the small living room.
Anthony's chair creaked as he dropped into it, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against the armrest. "Did you find him?"
I traced the worn pattern of the carpet with my shoe, nodding.
The drumming stopped. "Is he alright?"
"I guess that depends on your definition of alright." I rubbed the back of my neck, the muscles knotting under my fingers. "He's alive, barely."
Anthony’s throat flexed on a hard swallow. "What's he got himself into?"
"Gambling." The word landed like a stone in still water. "He's blown everything, gotten in deep with the wrong people."
Anthony's head dropped, a weary gesture of recognition. "I thought it might be that." He sucked in a heavy breath and slowly exhaled as his gaze met mine. "He had a serious gambling problem before his parents were murdered. They thought they had it under control. They never said anything, but when they died, he fell into old habits."
I gritted my teeth and shook my head with disgust. "How did he take care of Olivia for all these years?" I asked. "How did he manage to support her if he was blowing so much money?"
There was a long moment of silence before Anthony muttered, "He didn't." I narrowed my eyes. "I continued to look out for them after their parent's death, and at first, it was fine, but then things got bad. They moved several times into some bad neighborhoods, and little by little, Olivia was increasingly left alone. The final straw came when she'd been home for days by herself without electricity, water, or food." His eyes flashed back, meeting mine. “She was thirteen.”
My jaw tightened until a dull ache spread through my temples. The leather of my watch band creaked as my fingers curled into a fist.
He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the duplex next door. “I wasn't sure what legalities I would have to go through, but at that point, I didn't care anymore. I put Olivia in the duplex next to mine and told her that Emmett had arranged for her to live there. I took care of all the bills and her finances. When Emmett finally showed up about two weeks later, I explained what was going on. I told him I had moved his stuff into the duplex and could stay, but he wasn't welcome to live there. He didn't care. He showed up occasionally to get clean clothes or pick up something, but other than that, we didn't see him. Until a few weeks before Olivia left for Florida. He wasn't living there, but he was there quite a bit, and I wasn't sure what was happening until now. He was getting her out of New York for her safety. At least he had the decency to keep her safe."
"I don't think it was for her safety." I finally realized what this was all about. "He knew I would give him money. He knew that I felt guilty for everything that happened to her all those years ago and that I would protect her now if given the opportunity, and I will at any cost."
Anthony's jaw flexed. "How much did he ask for?"
"He told me he was in debt to some bad people for $350,000." I stared out the window, watching a car pass by. "I gave him the money to pay off the debt, and I'm getting him set up to go through rehab."
Anthony slumped back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face. "Nick." He shook his head slowly. "Don't be surprised if he doesn't pay off the debt or check into rehab."
"Truthfully, I expect he'll blow the money and has no intention of going anywhere near rehab."
"So why give him the money then?"
The late afternoon light caught the dust motes swirling between us. "Because I don't want Olivia to ever think I didn't try."
Anthony pushed himself up from his chair, joints cracking softly. "You're a good man, Nick, and I think I can finally retire now that she's with you." His hand found my shoulder, the weight of years of watching over Olivia in that simple touch. "I know she'll be safe with you." My jaw set with quiet determination. I'd make damn sure of that.
My hand was halfway to my knee, ready to push myself up and leave, when Olivia's voice echoed in my memory—her face as she'd talked about working through college, selling her mother's jewelry to make it happen. The memory froze me in place. "The college money," I said slowly. "Where did it really come from?"
He met my gaze without flinching. "I paid for it." Anthony's fingers tapped against his thigh. "She thought it was Emmett, but it was always me."
I clenched my fists, knuckles whitening. "That fucker. He made her sell her mother's stuff for college money."
Anthony's shoulders sagged. "I know." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I didn't find out until too late, and I tried to find where he'd pawned it, but I couldn't find it."
"Why didn't you ever tell Olivia about Emmett?"
Anthony crossed to the window, his reflection fragmenting in the glass. "For the same reason you won't tell her when you get back to Florida." The corner of his mouth lifted in a hollow smile.
The truth of it hit like a physical blow, and I sank deeper into the chair. We'd both chosen silence to shield her. I started to speak, but he held up a hand.
"Every year, I told myself this would be it. This would be when Emmett pulled himself together." He gestured at the empty room, at all the years of waiting. "Still waiting."
The clock on the wall ticked between us, marking time like all the birthdays and holidays Emmett had missed.
"Can you stay for dinner? Liz would love to see you again." Anthony straightened a framed photo on the side table—him and Liz on their twentieth anniversary.
My hand was already reaching for my keys. "No, I want to get back to Olivia, but do give Liz my love."
Anthony's fingers drummed against his thigh. "Is she still having nightmares?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, the muscle tension there a constant reminder of interrupted sleep. "Yeah."
"I was hoping that would get better once she was out of New York."
"I had no idea it was as bad as it is." My hands found each other, knuckles white with tension. "Anthony, I don't know how to help, and it tears me apart to see her like that."
He leaned back, something knowing settling in the lines around his eyes. The look made me shift in my seat, shoulders tensing.
"What?"
"Nothing." Anthony's gaze skittered away from mine, finding sudden interest in a family photo on the wall.
I shifted forward in my chair, the leather creaking beneath me. "That didn't look like nothing. What is it?"
"If I didn't know any better..." Anthony tilted his head, studying me with the same careful attention he'd given to watching over Olivia all these years. "I'd say you're in love with her."
The words hit like ice water. My carefully constructed walls, my precise definitions of what Olivia meant to me—they all threatened to crumble. I did love Olivia, but I wasn’t in love with her. I wasn’t the fall in love type of man.
"That's not—" The denial died in my throat. Images flashed through my mind: her smile in the morning sun, the trust in her eyes when she fell asleep against me, the way my heart stopped every time she had a nightmare.
"You don't have to answer," Anthony whispered. "Just... don't wait nine more years to come back."
We said our goodbyes, and I headed to the airport.
The drive to the airport was a blur. Every mile put more distance between me and Anthony's knowing look, but brought me closer to Olivia. And that thought alone told me more than I was ready to face.
Each step up the airport terminal felt like wading through wet cement. My shoulders sagged under the weight of everything I'd learned, everything I couldn't tell her. All I could think about was the way Olivia's breathing always steadied when I held her, how her nightmares seemed to loosen their grip when she wasn't alone. But more than anything, how much I needed to hold her right now. I'd be home soon.