Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Meeting Manny’s parents was chaotic. They’re so full of life and kindness, opposites of my hate-filled parents.
A small part of me wishes Fate had blessed me with a family like theirs, but I quickly brush those thoughts away.
If I had followed a different path, it might not have led me here, to my pack.
They make the abuse I suffered in Whitlan worth it.
The hospital is keeping Manny for another night as a precaution, and Shepherd volunteers to stay with him. I think he wants to make sure Foster actually sleeps tonight, and I agree. Our Omega needs his nest after everything that has happened in the last forty-eight hours.
When we pull into the garage, Foster eyes the pile of Christmas decorations we’d pulled out before leaving earlier. “He had them in the car that night,” I explain. “I think that’s why he was so late coming home.”
Tears well in Foster’s eyes, and he gives me a shaky smile. “He wanted to cheer us up. We’ve been so stressed from the stalking and the trial.”
I nod, patting his knee as we both stare out the window.
The sound of my phone ringing makes us both jump.
With a laugh, I pull my phone from the pocket of the diaper bag, but the sound dies when I see my sister’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” Foster grips my chin, turning me to look at him.
“You don’t have to be the one to tell her.
Let Donovan or someone else at the DAU do it. ”
My head shakes, knocking his hand away. I could let them tell her, but I won’t. She deserves to know the truth, and I should be the one to share it. Especially since I was there the night her birth mother died.
He gives me a sad smile and nods, accepting my decision. “I’ll get these two into the house and settled.” Leaning over the console, he brushes his lips against mine. Trailing them softly against my skin, he reaches my ear and whispers, “I love you, Angel.”
“I love you too, Foster.”
Trusting him to take care of the kids, I grip my phone tight in my hand and walk out to the back deck. Cold November air cuts through my jacket. I should have stayed inside, but the fresh air helps me gather my thoughts.
Omen answers immediately when I call her back. We’ve texted each other on and off over the past two days, and I’ve been updating her on Manny’s condition. “Hey, Han, did you make it home?”
“Yeah, Gremlin, we did. Are you… Could you come over for a bit? Or I can come there. I just… need to talk to you.” Nerves make my voice shake as she responds, telling me she’ll have one of her guys drop her off in a few minutes.
Telling her face-to-face makes this harder, but I want to hug her if she breaks.
I’m worried she will hate me when she learns of my role in Grace’s death.
“Sis?” The back door opens and closes. A moment later, Omen sinks onto a deck chair beside me. “Are you okay?”
Grimacing, I plant my feet on the ground and lean forward, staring at the peeling paint beneath me. “The cabin the FCDA found Mother and Colin at belonged to the former New Hampshire attorney general, Harold Henderson.”
“His name doesn’t sound familiar,” she admits, her head tilting to see past the curtain of my hair.
Reaching over, I take her hand in mine and squeeze.
“It wouldn’t because you’ve never met him.
But I have. He’s an Alpha, and he was mated to Mother’s older sister, Grace.
An Omega.” I watch her eyes widen, lips opening and closing several times as she tries to form a response, but I power on.
If I stop now and let her speak, getting the rest out may be impossible.
“I was the one who told Donovan about the cabin, because I remembered a photo Father kept in his desk of a woman standing outside it. When he explained who she was… I unlocked a memory I had repressed long ago.”
Omen’s anxiety is obvious in the way her sunflower scent wilts. She knows that what I have to share with her is going to change everything. “Tell me.”
“Father kept the picture of Grace in his desk as a reminder of why he hates Omegas, because he was once in love with Grace. When she presented, she chose Harold and not him. He was forced to marry Mother to stay close to the woman he loved. He even opened his home to her when Harold had to travel out of the country for a month. She was pregnant when she left. Whether their relations were consensual, I cannot say.” Omen sucks in a sharp breath, and I can see in her mossy green eyes that she’s starting to piece the puzzle together.
“That cabin is where Mother took Grace when she went into labor. And it’s where Mother left her to die.”
A tear slides down my sister’s cheek, and I have to blink back my own. “She killed her own sister?”
Nodding, I turn Omen’s hand over, bringing her other to join it and capturing them between my palms. “Yes, she did. Without remorse, too. But Omen, there’s more, something important that you need to know-”
“It was me, wasn’t it? The baby that was born in that cabin. That’s why Mother always hated me. Because I was never hers, I was a reminder that her husband would always love her sister more.”
The first of my tears falls from my lashes, trailing slowly down my cheek as I jerk my head. “You are the biological daughter of Grace Belmont, whom she conceived with our father.”
She cries silently, staring out over the lake as she absorbs everything I’ve revealed.
Her hands remain in mine, which brings me a small piece of comfort, as selfish as the thought is.
“You said you unlocked the memory, so you were there? The night I was born?” Closing my eyes, I nod sharply in response. “Thank you.”
My eyes pop open at her words, expecting anger or hatred, not gratitude. “W-what?”
Omen smiles. It’s sad, but there is no animosity in her expression.
“Hannah, you were forced to witness so many acts of cruelty growing up. This is another of them. Yet you stepped in when Mother refused to raise me. Hell, you’re more of a mother to me than she ever was. Did you think I would blame you?”
“You should! I was there! Witnessed it all, and I never said anything!”
She uses my grip on her hands to pull me across the chair and into a hug, her arms wrapping tight around my back.
“You were what, seven at the time? Living with physically and emotionally abusive parents, and left to fend for a newborn baby when you were still a kid yourself. The only person to blame is Mother. She was the adult making decisions that day. You were just forced to live with the guilt of witnessing them.”
“But…”
“You are too quick to take responsibility for others’ actions.
Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re an amazing person.
The best sister-mother-cousin a person could ask for.
” She gives me a cheeky grin, and my fear fades away.
Laughter fills the air, the deep-bellied kind that carries away your stress and leaves you breathless.
After several long minutes, I realize we’re both shivering and jump to my feet to usher her inside. She pauses at the doorway and looks back at me. “You know, it could be worse.”
“Worse than finding out the woman you thought was your mother killed your actual mother out of jealousy?” I ask dryly.
“Yeah,” she grins, “the FCDA could have walked into that cabin to find her and Colin fucking.” Horror drops my jaw as she throws open the door and walks inside, cackling like a maniac. I think I need bleach to get that image out of my brain. So gross.
“Come on, Han, I’m cold and hungry. Feed me.”
Rolling my eyes, I follow her inside. Foster is already at the kitchen island, cutting up a banana for Kaitlin.
He winks when he sees me watching his forearms flex with each slice of his knife.
Biting back a smile, I work my way around the counter and plaster myself to his back.
He yelps when I inch my hands beneath his t-shirt and press my frigid fingers against his skin. “Fates, you’re part popsicle now!”
“I wants a popsicle! Please, please, please!”
Omen sits down beside her and places her hand on Kait’s neck. “Here’s your popsicle!” We devolve into laughter, and the somber mood from earlier dissipates. I’m sure there will be other bumps that arise from the revelations unveiled at the cabin, and we will face them together.
After Omen had left yesterday, we spent the night watching episodes of a singing competition show that Omen and Bea talked Foster into starting. I admit, it grew on me. The concept of guessing who is behind the mask made it a lot of fun.
Throughout the several episodes we binged, my thoughts kept drifting to the boxes of decor in the garage.
Like all holidays, Whitlan strictly celebrated Christmas for religious purposes.
There were no trees to decorate or gifts from Santa.
Our house never had lights or wreaths. We got to prepare a large dinner to share with the congregation on Christmas Eve, and were forced to sit through a lengthy, hate-filled sermon on Christmas Day.
I’m excited to rewrite those memories and replace them with something fun. Not just for me, but for Kaitlin, too. Manny didn’t know this would be our first non-traumatic Christmas when he bought the tree and decorations, which makes the thought he put into them even more appealing.
Sneaking down the stairs, I double-check that Everett is still sleeping soundly, and then I head into the garage. It takes several trips to carry everything inside. The tree was heavy and difficult to manage, but I did it. Everything is here, ready to be sorted. But first, I need to wake Kaitlin.