Page 95 of The Secrets We Built Together

Jasper shrugged, a gesture that seemed to carry the weight of decades of regret. "I don't know. I broke things off. Explained that I was married and I couldn't leave my wife. It wasn't that I'd tried to hide it from her. I think a part of her always knew. We just had this whirlwind romance that felt like we were in our own little world, and everything outside of us just didn't exist. But it was wrong, and in the end, all I did was hurt everyone I cared about."

"And even after all of that, Regina still won't sign the divorce papers?" Reece asked, her voice gentle but probing.

Jasper sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "She's making it as difficult as possible. Her latest demands include a percentage of any future developments associated with the Farrington name, including trying to claim she deserves compensation for the rehabilitation center."

Booker's head snapped up. "That's ridiculous. The ranch is solely my property. Grandfather left it directly to me, not to you or Regina. She has absolutely no claim to it."

"I know," Jasper said heavily. "The legal situation is clear, but that's not stopping her from trying to delay everything. You boys not accepting my investment has made it easier. I have absolutely no ties to the project now. But she knows how much this rehabilitation project means to all of you. She's using the threat of litigation as leverage—her way of continuing to punish me."

"She can't touch the ranch," Booker stated firmly. "But I don't appreciate her trying to drag our project into your divorce proceedings."

"I'm handling it," Jasper assured him. "I've offered concessions on other properties we own jointly. My attorneythinks she'll eventually accept the deal once she realizes the ranch is completely off-limits. She just wants to drag this out as long as possible to make me suffer."

I was trying to figure out how I felt about this. It was a long time ago, and there was nothing anyone could do to change what had already happened. Being stuck in the past, clinging to everyone’s mistakes was frankly exhausting. I’d made my own mistakes and I was asking for my own brand of forgiveness. Was I really going to be a hypocrite and not be willing to offer any of it in return?

All I had left to really figure out was if I wanted to try and fix my broken family, and as I looked around the table at my brothers and their partners, I realized that I did. That what we'd started to build here was something worth fighting for.

Amelia, who had been dozing in Blake's arms, stirred and let out a small cry. Blake instinctively began to sway, humming softly under her breath. The baby settled almost immediately, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of Blake's shirt. The sight of them together, so natural and perfect, made my heart ache. This was my family now. This was what I was fighting for.

"I know I have no right to call myself a father to any of you," Jasper continued, his voice quiet but steady. "But if there is anything I can do to help, for any of you, I will always do whatever I can without question. No strings attached. I'll always be here if you need me."

I looked at Blake, and she reached under the table and squeezed my hand. I should accept my father's offer; I knew I should. But there was something about leaning on the man who did nothing but let me down as a kid that just felt a step too far. The words stuck in my throat, trapped behind years of hurt and resentment.

"Thank you," I finally managed, the words feeling inadequate but sincere. "I'll... think about it."

It wasn't forgiveness, not yet. But it was a start. A crack in the wall I'd built around my heart. And as I looked at Blake beside me, at Amelia in her arms, I knew that sometimes you had to tear down walls to build something stronger in their place. Wasn’t that what I’d spent the last year doing?

Maybe it was time to stop letting the past dictate my future. Maybe it was time to focus on the family I was building now, rather than the one that had failed me then. Because if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I’d never make the same mistakes my father had made. I would never let Blake or Amelia doubt for a second that they were the center of my world.

And that, I realized with sudden clarity, was the true gift my father had given me—a perfect example of what not to be. A blueprint for all the ways to fail a family, so that I could ensure I never walked the same path.

As conversation gradually resumed around the table, lighter now, filled with laughter and the comfortable hum of people who cared about each other, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. Not because everything was fixed—it wasn't, and might never be—but because I finally understood that it didn't have to be.

Family wasn't about perfection. It was about showing up, day after day. It was about choosing each other, even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard.

And as Blake leaned against me, her pink hair brushing my shoulder, Amelia sleeping peacefully in her arms, I made that choice. I chose them. I would always choose them.

Chapter 33

Xander

Istared at my phone on the kitchen table like it might spontaneously combust. The number was already on the screen, my finger hovering over the call button. All I had to do was tap it, but my hand wouldn't cooperate.

"This is stupid," I muttered, snatching up the phone and shoving it in my pocket.

Amelia gurgled from her high chair, looking up at me with those big, questioning eyes like she somehow understood my inner turmoil. Her cheeks were smeared with the pureed pears I'd been attempting to feed her, and she looked utterly delighted with the mess she'd made.

"What are you looking at, little bug?" I asked, wiping a glob of pear from her chin. "You think I should just do it, don't you?"

She squealed and slapped her tiny hands against the tray, sending another splatter of pear flying. I ducked, barely avoiding getting hit.

"I'll take that as a yes."

The truth was, I didn't have much choice. The clock was ticking. We needed to find Madison, and unfortunately, my father was our best shot. Jasper Farrington might be a lot of things—most of them not great—but he had connections. Money. Resources that Blake and I simply didn't have.

I pulled out my phone again and looked at the screen. This time I pressed the call button before I could change my mind.

It rang three times, and with each ring, a memory surfaced.

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