Chapter Thirteen
Brantley
I step over the threshold into the Sterling mansion, pissed beyond measure. Alton Jackson is a lying fucking asshole. He sent his people after Isla's sister even after promising he wouldn't? Fuck that.
Mac steps into the house behind me, his footfalls heavy, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches me, those perceptive eyes following my every move.
"Jackson, if you're listening, this is Brantley Hill," I say, lifting my voice so it booms through the house. I want to make sure their bug picks it up, wherever they hid it. "Our deal is off, you motherfucker. You sent your people after her, so you get to pay the price. You won't see a goddamn dime of what my father owed you." I pause. "And you better fucking run if you aren't already, because I'm releasing every goddamn thing I know. Including your name."
I doubt the threat scares the prick, but it should. I gave him a chance to walk away. He didn't take it. He tried to have Isla's sister killed. His whole goddamn organization will pay for that. It'll be my fucking mission in life.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, not surprised when I see the number Jackson gave me flashing across the display.
I put it on speaker so Mac can hear what he has to say, too.
"What the fuck do you want?" I growl.
"They weren't acting on my orders, Hill," he says, his voice tight. "I ordered them to leave her alone, but they saw an opportunity and took it anyway."
"They're your men," I remind him. "That makes it your goddamn problem. They tried to kill her."
"I know. It wasn't supposed to happen."
"I'm not paying you."
He's quiet for a long moment. "We know where she is, Hill. And she isn't the only sister. She has a twin." He pauses. "But you already know that, don't you? You've been fucking her."
A growl rumbles in Mac's throat.
"I'll rip your fucking organization apart at the seams," I snarl, my grip tightening on the phone. "You come near Isla or her sister again, and it'll be the last thing any of you ever do."
"Jackson," Mac says, a thread of iron in his voice as he plucks the phone from my hand. "This is Mac Sterling."
"Sterling," Jackson says, wariness seeping down the line.
"You're going to want to rethink threatening my daughters," he says, his voice deathly calm. "You'll want to rethink whatever bullshit you're considering right now, too. Because my people have one of your men, and he's been spilling your secrets all day. We know who you get your drugs from. We know who you have in your pocket. We know who owes you favors. And we know which of your sons kills for you."
Jackson doesn't say a word.
"Fuck with my family, and we'll destroy yours," Mac says. "And just so we're clear, Brantley and his mother are my family. They're off limits too. Do not test me. I sent my own wife to prison for fucking with my family. Don't think I won't rip yours apart."
He jabs the button, disconnecting the call, and then calmly hands my phone back to me before jerking his head toward the kitchen.
I follow him that way, neither of us speaking as we pass through the massive, airy room and then out into the landscaped backyard. We walk several yards away from the house before Mac mutters a curse, spinning to face me.
"I'm half tempted to destroy him and his family just because he threatened the girls," he growls, pacing back and forth.
"You and me both."
"Think he'll back off?"
"He isn't stupid," I murmur. "And men like him have all kinds of skeletons they'd prefer to keep hidden. If you have one of his men and he's talking, he won't want to risk any of those skeletons falling out of the closet." I'm the voice of fucking experience on that shit. My father was just like Jackson. And men like that? They'll take any deal to keep the truth from leaking, especially if it means they might lose the power they live for. "His threat was a last-ditch effort to salvage our deal because he wants that money. He knows the police are going to be knocking on his door soon. My guess is that he intended to use it to disappear and leave his people to clean up the mess."
"Well, he fucked that up," Mac mutters
I snort because he isn't wrong.
"Why were you going to pay him, Brantley?" Mac hits me with a hard look. "And don't bullshit me. I want the truth."
I blow out a breath, shoving my hands into my pockets to hide the way they shake. "My father was a prick," I say. "The shit he did…well, the world is better off without him. No one believes that, but it's the truth. The day they caught up with him, I saw them slipping into the parking garage. Didn't know who they were or what they wanted, and I didn't really fucking care to find out. I just left. And when I found out he was dead, I didn't mourn."
Mac eyes me, not speaking.
"But I didn't know about Bella. When I found out that she saw them kill him, I felt like a fucking asshole," I admit. "I've felt like one ever since. I guess I thought paying them would quiet the guilt, make me feel like someone worthy of Isla."
"And did trying to pay the debt help?"
"Fuck no." I swallow. "Isla did."
He jerks his chin in a nod. "She has a way of doing that. She helps without even realizing she's doing it. It's just who she is."
"Yeah." I stare out over the grounds, watching wind rustle leaves in the branches of the willow planted in the middle of the lawn. "I've fucked up a lot in my life, Mac. I'll probably fuck up a thousand more times, but I love your daughter. And I'm trying like hell to be a man she can be proud to call hers." I cut my eyes at him. "I'm sorry as hell I drove away that day and Bella ended up embroiled in all of this. Had I known…"
"I know," he says, holding my gaze. "I have contacts at the police department, Brantley. I knew before I ever came to see you that day."
"Fuck," I whisper, my heart in a vise.
"Anyone could have made the same mistake you did. Not saying I'm not mad as hell, but my anger was never directed at you. Bellamy is the one who put her in danger. He's the reason all this shit happened," Mac growls. "He's the one I'm fucking livid at. But you can't rail at a goddamn ghost. I'm thinking maybe you know that better than most."
"Yeah, I do."
"I'm not going to ask what he did to you. I can guess. It's always the same story with motherfuckers like that," Mac says, his voice quiet. "But I am going to ask…can you put it behind you? Can you learn to be at peace with it? Because that's what you're going to have to do if you want to love my daughter the way she deserves. You can't love her— really love her—if you've still got one foot in the past."
"I'm working on it, Mac. I…fuck," I huff. "I started attending meetings again. I've been in therapy for years. I've got an appointment with a psychiatrist to figure out the rest of it."
"Good," he says, pride in his eyes. And then he narrows them on me. "I won't allow you to break her heart. She's had enough of that in her life. You love her the way she deserves, and you and I won't have a problem. But if you fuck up, drinking is going to be the least of your problems."
"Understood," I say, grateful as hell that he's giving me a chance. I clear my throat. "For the record, she was nervous the whole way over here, thinking you were going to be angry with her for not telling you about me sooner. I'd appreciate it if you took it easy on her about it. She didn't tell you because she didn't want to disappoint you."
"That's not true," she says from behind me.
I spin around to find her standing a few feet behind us, her lips pulled down into a frown. "I wasn't afraid he'd be disappointed," she says softly. "You aren't a disappointment, Brantley. I was afraid he'd ship me off to Texas with Bella because he told me to leave it alone, and I clearly didn't do that." She shrugs, grimacing. "I couldn't risk leaving you behind, but you aren't a disappointment."
"You should have told me the truth, sweetheart," Mac says, his voice soft when he speaks to her. "I don't like knowing you've been dealing with all of this—both of you—and I didn't have a fucking clue."
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just…I didn't want to lose him. You shipped Bella off. I didn't want to be next."
Mac sighs, pulling her forward into his arms. "I didn't ship Bella off for the hell of it, Isla. I sent her because your sister doesn't always know when to stop. She doesn't always recognize danger, even when it's right in front of her. She's too goddamn fierce to realize that she's not infallible. That's not you. You aren't hellbent on conquering the entire fucking world singlehandedly. You know when to back off and when to protect yourself and your heart. She doesn't. She would have gotten herself hurt because she never learned that it doesn't have to be her versus everything."
"She knows, Daddy," Isla says. "Cormac is teaching her."
"Yeah. I know." Mac sighs like he's fucking miserable.
Isla squeezes him tight. "I love you."
"That's good, baby girl. I love you too. But you still haven't told me about that ring on your finger."
Fuck.
Isla squeaks, shoving her hand behind her back like that's going to undo the fact that he's already seen it. I'm betting he clocked it as soon as she got out of the damn truck. He's just been biding his time, waiting for her to tell him.
"Start talking, Isla Marie," he growls.
"Please don't be mad," she pleads, her bottom lip quivering. "We came to tell you, but then got sidetracked. And I came out here to tell you but got sidetracked again!"
"You're supposed to tell me before you get married, not after it's done." He cuts his eyes in my direction. "And you're supposed to ask for permission to marry my daughter."
Fucking hell.
"You always told us that we aren't property," Isla says. "We're our own people, and people don't belong to other people. You said it wasn't up to you to decide our futures for us, it was up to us. So he didn't need your permission, Daddy. He needed mine."
"I knew all those lessons about independence would come back to bite me in the ass one day," Mac mutters.
Isla smiles sweetly at him.
I clear my throat, drawing their attention. "I'd still like to ask for your blessing," I murmur to Mac. "And I know she'd like it too. You're her hero. You have been for her entire life. I can't promise that I'll always get it right. I'll make mistakes. But I can promise you that I'll love her just as fiercely, protect her just as carefully, and treasure her just as fully as you have since the day she was born. If we have a purpose in life, she's mine, sir. Loving her is the one thing I'm not willing to fuck up."
"I'm not willing to mess it up either," Isla whispers. "If I'd have known what to ask for, it would have been him, Dad."
"Fuck," Mac mumbles, pulling her into a hug before his eyes come to me again. "You have my blessing, Brantley."
I swallow hard, my throat burning with emotion. "Thank you."
"Welcome to the family, son."
Isla squeals, flinging herself out of her dad's arms and into mine. I catch her around the waist, pressing my lips to hers in a fierce kiss, pouring my love, my gratitude, my whole goddamn soul into it.
She kisses me back the same way, tears and laughter on her lips.
"I'm so damn proud of you," she whispers. "So damn proud, Brantley."
For once…I'm pretty fucking proud of me, too.
My mother is ecstatic when we stop by to share the news that we're married. She and Isla cling to each other and cry. They both swear they're happy tears, but I'm not entirely convinced.
We stay with her late into the night before I finally take my wife home. We fall into bed, still stripping each other bare. I spend half the night lost in her, making love to her again and again. We fuck until we're too exhausted to move, and then we sleep. Only to wake up and start all over. By the time the storm finally passes, and we're satisfied, I can't feel my goddamn legs.
Isla's sprawled across my chest, a boneless, satisfied mess. Beautiful in every way.
"What happens when your mom's statement hits the papers tomorrow?" she asks quietly. "What are you going to do?"
It's a good question. I've spent my entire life with the world thinking my father was someone he wasn't. I've spent the last four years keeping his secrets regardless of the cost. Tomorrow, people will either believe the truth or they won't. That's not up to me to decide. But for once, what they hear will be the truth. If they want to continue giving his memory power after that, I won't be helping them do it. And neither will my mother. We'll be doing what we should have done a long fucking time ago: Beginning to heal.
"I thought I might go to a meeting," I murmur, tracing patterns on Isla's skin. "And after that, I planned to come back here and coax you back into this bed. Once I'm done making sure you're satisfied…maybe I'll hire someone to go through his office and clean it out. I'm done struggling through it, pretending I can handle it. I can't."
"I like this plan," she whispers, smiling up at me. "But you forgot an important part."
"What's that?"
"The part where you finally get to breathe."
"I didn't forget." I tip her head back, brushing my lips against hers. "I've been doing that since we decided to release the statement."
She smiles against my lips, squeezing me tight. "Do you think Bella will be okay, Brantley?" she asks a moment later, snuggling back up in my arms. "I don't think she's very okay with knowing what he did to you and your mom. It made her sad."
"That's because it is sad, little bird." It's a fucking tragedy. But unlike most tragedies, this one ends happily. At least it does for me. It does for my mother too. We survived what should have broken us. And little by little, we're picking up the pieces and building something new. Something stronger. Something beautiful.
"I imagine a lot of people are probably going to feel like she does right now," I murmur. "He lied to everyone, tricked everyone into thinking he was something he wasn't. But your sister is going to be okay. Cormac will make sure of it."
"You're going to be okay now too, you know," Isla says, pressing a sweet kiss to my chest. "I'll make sure of."
I smile, my heart pulsing in my chest because I know she means it. And because I know she's right. It doesn't fucking matter what anyone else thinks when they read my mom's statement tomorrow. The important part—the part we desperately needed to do—was tell it. And we've done that. The only thing left now is this right here. It's Isla in my arms with my ring on her finger. And it's freedom.
Fucking hell, I can't wait to spend a lifetime drowning in it.