He’s sitting stiffly on one, phone clutched to his ear.
There’s a dark concern in his gaze when it meets mine.
“We’ll be ready.” He looks at the floor as he listens to something on the other end, then disconnects the call.
“Who was here?”
“Just Stephanie, she found my phone. It was ringing. Thought maybe it was important.”
I’m partially relieved that it was just the woman who delivers groceries to us, but the way he’s watching me with his brows locked down tight makes me even more worried.
“Were you talking to Beast?” I ask because he doesn’t seem too eager to tell me.
“Yeah. There’s a call coming in momentarily. For you.”
The butterflies in my stomach turn to darts. “I take it that’s not good, given that murderous expression.”
“Sit down.” He opens his arm, and I carefully nuzzle against him.
I try to relax but fail. “You know it’s not making me feel better that you won’t tell me what’s happening.”
He touches my cheek. Searches my gaze. Swallows roughly, then detonates a bomb in the small space between us.
“Marshall’s guy found your mother.”
Whoa.
No.
“That’s impossible.”
He sweeps a thumb over my cheek. “The DNA is a solid match. But Westerly’s isn’t. He’s no relation.”
Breathe.
My fingernails bite my palms.
Just breathe.
This can’t be true.
“My mother’s dead.”
The pain spreading behind my sternum is rolling out to my fingertips. The base of my throat is hot, but the room suddenly feels chilled.
He goes on in a gentle tone. “I’m talking about your biological mother. She’s going to be calling on my phone in five minutes. You can choose to talk to her or not. It’s totally up to you.”
“This has to be some kind of mix-up.”
“Marshall’s men are good. They wouldn’t have told us this unless they were sure.”
My mind reels.
When I rise to my feet, Truck lets me go. “Then who is the man who says he’s my father?”
“We don’t know. Your biological mother won’t tell the story to anyone but you.”
Covering my mouth with my hand, I turn away.