Page 92 of His to Possess
“What happened to Lilah?” he asks, his voice suddenly sharp.
“The asshole your ex found to fund her booze and pill habit is a sick little fuck,” I snarl. “He has a thing for your daughter. Has for a while. She’s probably the reason he sought out Jocelyn in the first place.”
That was the other bit of news Jane shared with me last night. She’s found evidence that Howard Worthington and Lilah Cartwright’s paths had crossed many years ago. He’d sat on the board at her prep school. As the student body treasurer, Lilah would have attended many of those meetings. Jane found out he’d even nominated her for a prestigious internship her senior year of high school—an internship that would have her working directly under him in his real estate development company.
Lilah had declined the offer in lieu of doing charity work in South America that summer. But apparently, Howard Worthington hadn’t been willing to let her go so easily. He was married to her mother less than three years later, only days after her divorce was finalized.
The first thing he’d done was move the family to Raleigh, a mere half hour drive to her University. Lilah had been withdrawn from her dorm to live at home—his doing, I was sure. A year later, she’d left school entirely and moved back to Charlotte. Alone.
Cartwright looks like he’s going to throw up. “Did he do something to her? Jesus, did he touch Lilah?”
I don’t know the answer to that question, and it makes me want to break things. So I force myself to focus. “Thankfully your daughter is far braver than either of her sorry excuses for parents. She left.”
He looks relieved, and that somehow makes me even angrier. “She left even though she had nowhere to go. She dropped out of school. She didn’t tell any of her old friends she was back in Charlotte. Instead she hid out in the fucking slums. She’s been working in a god damn biker bar. You should have seen the shithole I found her living in.”
He sways in his seat. “Jesus,” he mutters, closing his eyes. “Jesus, what have I done?”
“You fucked up,” I snap. “And your kids paid the price.”
He turns wide, desperate eyes to me. “Do you know where she is? Can I find her? I need to—”
“Don’t fucking bother. I’ll take care of her now.”
He finally seems to realize that it’s strange for me, of all people, to know so much about his daughter. His eyes narrow. “What do you have to do with her?”
I shake my head in disgust. “I’m the one who found her when she needed help. I’m the one who took her in. I’m the one who’s been trying to fix things for her.”
“Are you taking advantage of my daughter?” he asks, and I could actually laugh at the ridiculousness of his attempt at paternal concern.
“I’m in love with your daughter,” I tell him without hesitation. It’s the most simple truth I know. I love Lilah, and I’m not going to rest until I can tellherthat.
He studies me for a long moment and I can see him making the calculations in his head. Our age difference. My wealth and ability to care for her. My reputation as a member at Wyld. The sincerity in my voice. His lack of credibility when it comes to defending his own daughter.
“If you love her so much, why are you here looking for her?” he asks. “Why don’t you know where she is?”
“Because we had a misunderstanding,” I tell him. “Your daughter has some trust issues, which I can thank you for.” I lock eyes with him. “I may have made some mistakes with Lilah, but unlike you, I’m trying to fix them. I’m not going to just let it go. I’m not going to walk away and lose her. Unlike you, I’m going to fight for her.”
And really, that’s why I’m here. Not to try and find her, because I already knew she would never come to this house. I’m here because Lilah is worth fighting for. And she deserves to have someone look her sorry excuse for a father in the eye and tell him that.
I stand. “I guess you can’t help me.” I don’t say it, but I’m sure he can read the true meaning in my words. You can’t helpher.
I’m halfway to the door before he calls out to me. “I can’t help you, but I know someone who can.”
I turn to face him. He’s staring down at his desk, face pinched, looking ten years older than when I entered this room. When he looks up at me, there are tears in his eyes.
“I have Christopher’s cellphone number,” he says. “He…he called me once.” He winces. “I didn’t answer. But I saved the number. Couldn’t make myself delete it.”
If he thinks that deserves some kind of parenting award, he’s out of his mind. I watch while he pulls open the top drawer of his desk and pulls out an index card. He scrawls a number on it before holding it out to me. “If Lilah’s been in touch with anyone, it will be her brother.”
I take the card from him, feeling the first stirring of hope since I watched her walk away. I don’t thank him—he doesn’t deserve it.
“Don’t fuck this up,” he whispers, voice ragged. “Don’t make my mistakes. If you have the opportunity to have her in your life…” one tear falls down his face. “Don’t waste it.”
“I have no intention of wasting it,” I tell him, walking out. But I pause in the doorway. “You know, it might not be too late for you. If you could stop being a coward for two seconds…” I hold his gaze. “I would never give you another chance, but your daughter is a better person than either of us put together.” Then I leave him alone in his empty, lonely house, vowing I’ll never lose her the way he did.
It’s time to find my girl.
Philip
