13. June #2
He held her through the whole storm of it.
He didn’t try to fix anything. He didn’t offer reassurances.
He simply held her while she cried herself out against his shoulder.
June leaned into him and allowed herself, for a few minutes, to borrow his steadiness.
It had been so long since she’d let anyone do that for her.
It had been so long since there had been anyone she trusted enough to let them hold her up.
The storm slowly subsided.
She didn’t pull away immediately.
Neither did Holt.
Then the doorbell rang.
They sprang apart as Ace came running down the hallway, calling out that the takeout had arrived. Holt stepped back, ran a hand across his jaw, and cleared his throat. June wiped her cheeks and tried to compose her face.
She stepped around them both without a word and walked down the hall to the room she was sharing with Victoria, who had already laid out a few changes of clothes for her on the bed.
June closed the bedroom door behind her.
She had no appetite. She had no desire for company. She had no more words in her for the day.
She went to the shower, stood under the hot water, and let it rinse away what it could.
Holt
Holt sat at the kitchen counter with Willa and Rad.
Everyone else had gone to bed. Margo had made a pot of cocoa before turning in and had left three mugs of it on the counter for them.
The house was quiet in that way houses go quiet after a catastrophic day, when every person inside was running on fumes, and the only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the roof.
Rad cradled his mug in both hands. Willa sat on the stool beside Holt, her legs drawn up under her, her hair still slightly damp from the shower. Her face was pale in the soft kitchen light.
“I can’t believe my childhood home is gone,” Willa said quietly.
Holt looked at his daughter. “I’m so sorry, Willa,” he told her gently.
“My mother loved that house.” Willa’s voice was steady but raw.
“Dad built that bookcase in the living room himself. Mom has photographs of us from every birthday I ever had up on that wall. I used to hide under the porch when I was five. I skinned my knees on the front steps more times than I could count.” She let out a small, broken laugh. “And now it’s just gone.”
Holt reached out and put a hand gently on her shoulder.
Willa didn’t flinch away. She let it rest there for a moment. Then she leaned slightly toward him, resting the side of her head briefly against his arm, and Holt felt something in his chest shift in a way he had no name for.
“It’s just a building, Willa,” Holt told her quietly. “Every memory you have of it is still with you. Your mother will rebuild. Your children will make new memories. Your father is already in every one of them, and that doesn’t change.”
Willa was quiet for a long moment. “I know,” she whispered. “I know that. I just needed to hear someone say it.”
Rad cleared his throat softly and sat back against the counter.
“So,” Rad said, a small, weary smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, “let’s talk about the elephant in the room.”
Willa sat up straight, and they both turned to look at him.
“Rad, this isn’t the time,” Holt warned.
Rad had a particular talent for getting things out in the open so they could be dealt with and filed away. He’d inherited that from Holt’s father. There was never a perfect time for anything. There was only the here and now.
“No, Holt, it’s okay,” Willa said, with a tight, tired smile. “He’s right. We’re all here together. I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight anyway. And I’d rather have this conversation when I’m already too tired to overthink it.”
“Willa.” Holt turned to her properly. “We can do this whenever you want.”
“Willa, I just have to say that what you did today was incredible, by the way,” Rad added, his eyes warm with admiration as he looked at Willa. “What you did with that fire extinguisher. I always knew if I had a sister, she’d be tough. Turns out I was right.”
Willa laughed. Her cheeks pinkened slightly. “It’s strange to think I have a little brother,” she admitted.
“Hey, who are you calling little?” Rad teased. “You don’t see me calling you big sister.”
“I kind of like it,” Willa said softly. “I always wanted a sibling. When I was a little girl, I used to tell my mother I wanted a baby brother or sister more than anything in the world. She’d just go quiet and hug me and tell me some things couldn’t be arranged.
” Her eyes filled slightly, and she blinked the tears back.
Rad’s expression softened.
“Well,” Rad said quietly, “you have one now.”
“I know,” Willa managed. “And for what it’s worth, Rad, I’m really glad it’s you.”
“I’m really glad it’s you, too,” Rad replied.
Holt cleared his throat. It had suddenly become quite tight. “I can’t believe I have a daughter,” he admitted finally, his voice rough. “Or that I suddenly have three more grandchildren.”
“Well, there you go, Dad.” Rad grinned at him. “Now I’m off the hook. You’ve been telling me for years you wanted more than one grandchild.”
“Now you have four,” Willa laughed. Her eyes went slightly wide. “How am I going to explain this to my children?”
“How about with the truth?” Carmen’s voice came from the kitchen doorway.
“Aunt Carmen,” Willa turned toward her. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” Carmen replied. She walked in and settled onto the stool beside Rad. “I’m glad the three of you are talking this through. It’s going to take time. But I think you’re past the halfway mark already, and that matters.”
“Yeah.” Willa turned and looked at Holt. Her eyes held his for a long moment. “I’m not ready to call you Dad yet.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to be,” Holt told her, and meant it, even as his heart squeezed. “I know Trevor was your father. From everything I’ve heard, he loved you completely. Like you were his own.”
“I never felt like I wasn’t,” Willa admitted softly.
A small flash of anger moved across her expression.
Then guilt followed it, as her mouth tightened.
“I loved my dad so much,” Willa continued.
“And I hate to speak ill of him now that he’s gone, but right now I’m so angry with both of them for keeping this from me.
I thought Dad and I told each other everything.
I thought Mom and I told each other everything. And now I find out...”
“Willa.” Carmen leaned across the counter and took her niece’s hands in her own.
“I’m going to tell you something now, because I know my sister won’t tell you herself.
You were everything to Trevor. He couldn’t have children, and he loved you the way he would have loved a child he’d made himself.
He knew your mother’s whole story. He and June decided together that they would tell you on your eighteenth birthday.
Once they thought you were emotionally mature enough to decide for yourself whether you wanted to meet Holt. ”
“I thought you didn’t know about me?” Willa’s head shot around, and her eyes flashed with accusation toward Holt.
“That’s not true. Of course, I’d want to know about you and have been part of your life,” Holt told her honestly. His voice was gruff with emotion. “But I swear I didn’t know about you, Willa. Not until last night.”
“He’s not lying, Holt didn’t know about you,” Carmen confirmed. “But you never came home for your eighteenth birthday. Do you remember? You stayed on campus. You had an exam you couldn’t miss. And by the time you did come home, it was...”
“It was the night Dad died,” Willa finished quietly. Her voice dropped.
“Yes.” Carmen nodded. “And then you were engaged to Shaun. And then there were grandchildren. And then there was Shaun passing. The years just kept piling up. Your mother and I talked about this not so long ago. If you go into her room she uses at your house, Willa, you’ll find a photograph album on the top shelf of the closet.
She made it for Holt and you to share one day. ”
“June made it for me?” Holt said, astonished.
“And for Willa,” Carmen told him. “It has pictures of you as well, Holt.” She gave him a tight smile.
“Every year on Willa’s birthday, June added to them.
Every achievement. The wedding. The births of the grandchildren.
Every Christmas. She kept that album with her whenever she went to Sandpiper Shores, in case the day the two of you crossed paths ever came. ”
Holt sat very still.
“Then, after the accident, June knew it was time to finally tell you, Willa. She was going to after the ten-year memorial,” Carmen continued. “But fate had other plans. She arrived in Sandpiper Shores as did Holt, and everything went sideways before she could work out how to tell any of you.”
“And then the case,” Holt said quietly. It didn’t excuse the years of not knowing about his daughter. But he understood now why June hadn’t managed to say anything in the middle of everything else.
“She was about to tell both of you and was preparing for it,” Carmen added. “But Rad beat her to it,” Carmen finished, turning and giving Rad a pointed look.
“I’m sorry,” Rad said quietly. “Something wasn’t sitting right around Willa’s birth, and I had to find out.”
“It’s all right, Rad,” Holt told him. “Maybe it being forced into the open was the best way. We’d all have spent years waiting for the perfect moment, and there is no perfect moment for something like this.”
“Maybe,” Carmen agreed. “But know that June was going to tell both of you.”
“Why, though?” Willa pressed. Her eyes were on Holt now. “Why didn’t Mom tell you about me at the time? What happened, Holt? What could possibly have happened between you and her that would make her decide not to tell you she was pregnant with your child?”
Holt opened his mouth.
“I can answer that,” Carmen said, cutting in. “Because I don’t think my sister is going to. She’ll want the two of you to have a clean slate now. June will never do anything to jeopardize you getting to know each other.” Her eyes moved between Holt and Willa. “She feels guilty enough.”
Holt went very still. “I don’t see what would possibly account for June not telling me about my daughter,” he said carefully, keeping the anger out of his voice by sheer force.
“The night you walked out of your marriage,” Carmen said to him directly, “do you remember what you said to her about children? Do you remember telling her that it wasn’t the right time? That you both needed to concentrate on your careers. Your dream job in Virginia had just come through.”
“Yes.” Holt’s jaw tightened. “But we could have found a way. If she’d told me?—”
“June was already pregnant, Holt,” Carmen cut in quietly. “She’d only just confirmed it. She’d been trying to find the right moment to tell you. And you sat her down the same night and told her you were moving to Virginia, that you didn’t want children right away.”
“You said that to her?” Rad breathed. “Dad. Good grief.”
“I...” Holt looked at Carmen. “Still. That is not a reason for her to keep my daughter from me for thirty-eight years.”
“No,” Carmen agreed. “It isn’t. But two days after you walked out, she’d had time to think. She’d calmed down. She decided she didn’t want the marriage to end. She wanted to try again and was willing to give up her dreams for a while so you could pursue yours.”
“What?” Holt’s eyes widened. “She never said anything...”
“I’m not finished,” Carmen told him, stiffly.
“June was going to give up her career. She was going to be a stay-at-home mother until the baby was old enough for daycare, and then she was going to rebuild her practice part-time. She had already looked into freelance work she could do from home to help with the finances, so neither of you would have to eat into your inheritances.”
“Why is this the first time I’m hearing any of this?” Holt’s anger was climbing now.
“If you’ll let me finish,” Carmen drawled.
Holt sat back and watched her.
“Yes, Aunt Carmen,” Willa added sharply, her own eyes narrowing. “If Mom was willing to do all that, what stopped her? Did she get a better offer from her job?”
“No.” Carmen threw her niece a warning look before turning back to Holt. “June called your hotel room just after six in the morning, two days after you walked out of your marriage.”
Holt’s frown deepened.
“She was going to tell you everything,” Carmen continued. Her eyes had turned cold in a way Holt had never seen them before. “And guess who answered the phone? Lillian.”
The room went absolutely silent.
“When June asked if you were there,” Carmen finished evenly, “Lillian told her you had just stepped into the shower.”
“You had another woman in your room?” Willa and Rad said together, in almost identical tones of disgust.
“Two days after you walked out on my mother, you had another woman lined up?” Willa’s anger came off her in waves. “Oh, now I’m glad Mom didn’t tell you. First, you didn’t want me. Then you moved on within forty-eight hours.”
“What?” Holt was stunned. He stared at Carmen in complete shock. “No. That... no. That isn’t...”
“Oh, yes, that’s what happened,” Carmen replied flatly.
“Then June thought maybe she was being paranoid, that maybe she’d misheard, that there was a logical explanation for Lillian being in your room so early.
So she got in her car and drove to the hotel.
She sat across the street in the parking lot.
And she watched you come out of that hotel arm in arm with Lillian.
And it was not just walking out arm in arm, but both of you were laughing, and you looked so happy, like you didn’t have a care in the world.
That’s when she knew your marriage was over. ”
Holt couldn’t speak.
Carmen stood up slowly from her stool.
“So while June might have kept secrets from you. She had her reasons,” Carmen concluded, her eyes holding his without wavering, “Just like I’m sure you have yours for keeping a big secret from her and Willa that affects them both.
” Her voice dropped to something very quiet. “Isn’t that right, Director Dillinger?”