Page 141 of Unexpected Heroine

A blanket of shame falls over him, his entire frame slumping and sagging. I know it well. With his eyes cast downward, he chokes out his response. “No. I couldn’t tell him.”

Some of the blood that had fled from my chest and cheeks rushes back in, warming my flesh. “Couldn’t?” I scoff. “You’ve been struck mute for nearly a decade?”

Jumping from the bed, I ignore the pain spike in my ribs. It’s easy to dismiss, given how my mind and heart frantically race, sending adrenaline through my veins.

The offense I feel on behalf of his boss over eight years of deceit attempts to overshadow my own, which makes less sense than I can fathom.

No. Not just his boss.

My father.

My very much alive father. Who has been in the same damn town with me for over a year. One degree of separation between us—Tomer.

“And for the last year, you’ve had the same affliction of being unable to speak?” My voice shakes, volume increasing. “What possible reason could you have for not telling us?”

Us.

My blood. My kin.

I’m part of an us again. Family.

Fuck the woman who pretended to be my mother all my life. She hasn’t counted for a long time.

My vision sways, so I stop pacing and take a few deep breaths, forking my fingers through my hair.

“Why did you do this?” Tugging my hair at the roots, I scream, “Why?”

“Shh, calm down, Lettie.”

I don’t know when it happened, but he’s off the bed and standing in front of me. His hands trace the outsides of my arms, and he tries to shush me.

Like I’m a fucking child.

Well, isn’t this familiar? It might have been a year, but the memory of that night at the hotel is vivid. And equally enraging.

“Get your damn hands off me, you lyin’ snake!”

Shooting my arms upward and to the sides, I break from his hold and paltry attempt to calm me like a toddler having a tantrum. When I do, I look down and realize that aside from the scant tank top, I’m buck naked as the day I was born.

Shit.

Scurrying to the drawer, I grab the first few scraps of clothing I get my hands on and jump into my panties like it’s a race.

He’s behind me again, hovering like a damn rain cloud.

While I step into a pair of shorts, I cut a sharp glare over my shoulder at him. “Back up,” I seethe.

“Lettie baby, please. Let me explain.”

“You’ve had a damn year to explain.” I turn around in a huff. Unthinking, I shove at his chest, sending him backward. “I said get away from me!”

“Lettie,” he falters, managing to stay steady on his feet despite the turmoil surrounding us both.

Tears fill his eyes, but I can barely see them through the waterworks of my own and my blinding anger.

“How could you do this to me?” My voice trembles, mimicking the rest of my body. I’m a quivering mess.

It’s all too much. Far too much.

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