Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Imogene
I didn’t know how I got out of the hotel. Everything was a blur.
Everything except the truth that Gideon Saint was Samuel Tate.
Just like I suspected.
Everyone told me I was crazy.
Gideon told me I was crazy.
But I wasn’t.
And now I was supposed to just accept the fact that the man I loved with every fiber of my being had been alive all these years? That he’d been lying to me?
I had so many questions. But one had been at the forefront of my mind the entire time I sat in the back seat of the SUV as Henry navigated the familiar streets of Atlanta.
“How?” I asked softly, my voice not sounding like my own.
“What’s that?” Henry looked in the rearview mirror, briefly meeting my eyes.
“How is he still alive?” I said, this time more firmly.
Henry blew out a heavy sigh, his shoulders falling. “It’s not my story to tell, I’m afraid.”
“You have to give me something here because I don’t know what to fucking think right now, Henry. I just…” I turned my gaze out the window, struggling to reel in my emotions.
I was trying so damn hard not to cry, but I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it all in. Didn’t know how much longer I could hold in the scream that was desperate to break free to drown out the agony taking root deep in my marrow.
“The first day I saw him, his eyes reminded me of Samuel’s,” I told him. “Then when I ran into him again and saw him up close, there was something so damn familiar about him. Not his appearance, but everything else. And when he told Ollie to heel?” I sucked in my quivering lip. “The only thing that made me think it couldn’t be him was because he looks nothing like the Samuel I knew. My Samuel. His nose is too crooked. His cheekbones are too high. His jaw is too square and wide. What happened to him? How could he look so different?”
“Again, it’s?—”
“Not your story to tell,” I snapped bitterly. “Got it.” I exhaled a quivering breath as I crossed my arms over my stomach to fight off the chill overtaking me despite the sunshine streaming into the car through the windows. “What can you tell me?”
“I can tell you my story.”
“And what’s that?”
“I had a similar reaction when he showed up on my doorstep.”
“When?” I furrowed my brow. “How long have you known?”
He hesitated before confessing, “a year.”
“A year? You’ve known for a year and never…” I pushed down the betrayal bubbling inside me, unsure how much more I could take. “Why did he lie to me? Or is that not your story to tell, either?”
He briefly met my gaze through the mirror once more. “I’m sorry.”
“But he was shot. They said he was dead,” I choked out, tears stinging my eyes as I thought about all the pain and grief I’d endured. “I mourned him, Henry. Every fucking day. I still mourn him. And now?”
I dug my fingers through my hair, feeling like my brain was about to explode. “I’m just supposed to accept he’s still alive? Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he make me think I was losing my goddamn mind? Hell, he made me feel like a horrible person for asking if he was Samuel the other night. Accused me of living in the past. Of only wanting to be with him because he reminded me of Samuel, when the entire time…”
I swallowed hard through the ache in my throat. In my chest. In my soul.
“Why would he do this to me?” I squeaked out.
“He has his reasons.”
“What could possibly be so important he’d go through all of this? And his face? Why did he change his appearance?”
“He didn’t have a choice. I barely recognized him when he showed up at my front door. His face was so…disfigured. It wasn’t until he told me a story from foster care no one else would know about that I knew it was him. He endured a lot in the time he was gone, Imogene.”
He floated his gaze toward the mirror, allowing the truth of his statement to sink in, even if he couldn’t share exactly what he’d been through.
“I’m not saying what he’s done to you is right, and I cautioned him against this, but he’s insisted it’s worth the risk.”
“What is?”
“Revenge.”
The word hung heavy in the car as I attempted to wrap my head around everything.
If Henry thought it would give me answers, he was mistaken. Instead, it only brought forward more questions.
Questions I feared I’d never learn the answer to.
“Revenge against who? Me?”
He shook his head. “The people who did this to him. Who killed Sam. He truly believes that, while Sam’s DNA may run through him, the Samuel Tate we both know and love did die in that car. Hell, for a while I believed that, too. Until…” He trailed off.
“Yes?”
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, turning down the street leading toward Chastain Park.
“Since he’s been spending time with you, I’ve seen more and more of the man he used to be. The old Sam. He’s still in there, even if he’s buried underneath years of painful memories and trauma.”
“What happened?” I asked again, partly to myself. Partly to see if Henry would actually respond this time.
“Like I said, it’s not my story to tell.”
“Will he ever tell me?”
“I hope so.”
He steered the car up the long driveway leading to my parents’ house, then put it in park, jumping out to open my door for me.
“I can manage on my own.”
“I promised I’d make sure you made it home safely. That means into the house.”
“Fine,” I huffed, too exhausted to fight. Instead, I walked beside Henry toward the front door.
This was a path I’d walked hundreds of times in my life, but today it felt different. My brain rewound to the first time I brought Samuel home to meet my mom and Lachlan. He’d been so nervous about making a good first impression. Not just because he’d always been a huge fan of Lachlan’s, but because of the nine-year age difference between us.
But my mom and Lachlan were the last people to judge a couple based on a difference in age. After all, Lachlan was thirteen years younger than my mom. Like she told me that night after Samuel left. Age was just a number. All that mattered was that he treated me right.
I told her he did.
What was I supposed to tell her now? How was I supposed to reconcile everything I now knew about Gideon Saint with the Samuel Tate who stole my heart?
I faced Henry as we reached the door. “Does he just expect me to hide his secret from everyone?”
“Knowing him like I do, I can all but guarantee he’d want you to do what you think is right.”
“What is right?”
“You need to make that decision for yourself.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me a card. “If you need anything, call me. I mean it, Imogene.” He gave me a concerned look. “If you notice anything out of the ordinary or suspicious, contact me immediately. No matter the time of day.”
His words only added to my growing anxiety. “Why? What’s going on, Henry? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Just…promise me.”
I glowered at him for several protracted moments, willing him to embellish further. But he remained as stoic as ever.
“Fine,” I finally conceded. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
“Thank you.”
He stepped back, but didn’t immediately retreat, remaining true to his promise to see I made it home safely.
It wasn’t until I punched my code into the door and slipped inside that he finally made his way back toward the driveway. Once he did, I released a long breath and leaned against the entryway wall, my mind reeling from how much of a turn this morning took.
All because I didn’t get in that elevator when I should have.
A part of me wished I had.
But I had a feeling the truth would have come out eventually, regardless of Gideon’s constant manipulation.
It was ironic now that I thought about everything.
I fought with Liam because he was suspicious of Gideon. Convinced myself all of Liam’s outrageous claims were just because he was trying to manipulate me again. All along, the only person manipulating me was Gideon.
“Imogene, sweetie. Is that you?” Mom called out from the kitchen, pulling me out of my mounting confusion.
I took another deep inhale, doing my best to remain strong. To act as if my entire world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Then I pushed off the wall and made my way toward the kitchen, plastering a smile on my face as I walked into my mom’s outstretched arms.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How was your night?”
“Good.” It wasn’t a total lie. My night was good. Mind blowing.
It was this morning that was anything but.
She pulled out of the hug, holding me at arm’s length. “So you patched things up with Gideon, then?”
“It would appear so.”
She looped an arm through mine, dragging me toward the island. “Did you know he’d be in town, or did he come all this way just to make things right?”
I parted my lips, but I was no longer sure of the truth. He claimed he was here on business and it was just a coincidence I was also here. Now I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the truth or if he’d followed me out here.
It was yet another question to add to my list.
“I was certainly surprised to see him,” I answered, hoping she’d leave it at that.
I should have known better.
“So tell me.” She hoisted herself onto one of the barstools, patting the one beside it for me. “What did he say? What did you say?”
“I… I’m just really tired,” I said, a wave of exhaustion washing over me from having to keep up the fa?ade. “I’m going to go lie down for a few hours, if you don’t mind.”
She straightened, studying me with a furrowed brow. “Sure. Of course.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a half-hearted smile, then started out of the kitchen.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she called after me, and I paused in my tracks.
How was I supposed to answer that? Nothing was okay.
I wasn’t sure anything ever would be again.
“Just…tired.”
“Okay,” she drew out.
But I could feel her skepticism from across the room. After everything we endured together, she could pick up on my moods. Knew when I wasn’t being completely honest.
What could I tell her, though?
No, Mom. I’m not okay. Not after learning that Gideon really is Samuel. That he never died. That he’s been alive all this time, enduring god knows what, and now is out for revenge against the people who hurt him, whoever they may be.
Just the idea of admitting that twisted me up, causing the hurt from all the lies to fester even more, threatening to destroy me from the inside out.
As I entered my bedroom, I headed straight toward my ensuite bathroom, shedding the clothes Gideon bought for me. Or was it Samuel? I didn’t even know what to call him. Didn’t know who he was, despite what Henry told me.
Even though I’d recently showered, I turned on the water as hot as it would go and stepped under the scalding stream, hoping it would wash everything away.
But I doubted anything was that powerful.