CHAPTER ELEVEN
Caitlin
I jab my finger at the number, running my nail beneath the digits to make sure I’m reading them correctly.
“This is worth six-hundred thousand dollars, Dad,” I say, glancing up at him, expecting him to snatch the paper away and make a run for the back door.
He had to have missed the number. If not, he would have listed the house and pocketed the money. He would never give me a half a million dollar home in exchange for our house in Giffney, a house that probably wouldn’t fetch more than one hundred and twenty thousand, even if I put on the new roof the repair guy insists is way overdue.
“I know.” An impish smile crosses Chuck’s face. “You kids will be living like movie stars. And there’s a cottage at the back of the property, too. They call it an Ohana. The agent says it rents for eighteen hundred a month, which should cover a good chunk of your expenses. You’ll be able to go back to working one job, Kit Cat, and have time for school. They’ve got a college on the island. It’s supposed to be nice.”
My eyes narrow as I search his face, looking for a fly in the ointment. “Why?”
“Why what?” Chuck asks, still grinning.
“Why would you give this to me? You could sell it and have more money than you’ve made in your entire life.”
“I could,” Chuck says, his expression sobering. “But we both know what I’d do with that much money. I can’t be trusted with my monthly check. If I had more, I’d drink myself to death in a year. Maybe less.”
My brows float higher on my forehead. Chuck has never talked to me like this before. He’s never been honest about what a problem the drinking is. He’s always said he has an Irish liver, or that the Cooneys can handle their booze better than anyone—like we’re the superheroes of alcohol consumption—or he points out that his own father was drunk pretty much constantly from the age of fourteen, and lived to the ripe old age of seventy-eight. To hear him copping to the fact that the only thing keeping him from drinking himself to death is a shortage of funds is surprising to say the least.
“And I like the idea of you kids living big because of me,” Chuck says. “I never thought I’d be able to give you something like this, but now I can. It feels good. I want to put you all on a plane and wave good-bye, knowing you’re going to a better life.”
I study his face for a long moment, but he doesn’t flinch or look away. He meets my eyes and holds my gaze.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a man who had nothing to hide, but I do know better. And so I look harder, past the sentimental expression, behind the soft blue eyes, down to the heart of my father, where there is nothing but Chuck looking out for Chuck, nothing but an overgrown child wailing and bargaining and snatching for the things he wants with his chubby hands.
Finally, I see it, that seed of self-interest, that tiny spark of gleeful satisfaction that Chuck gets when he’s pulling one over on some unsuspecting soul.
He’s up to something. I’d bet my college fund on it. I don’t know what it is, but I’m not going to fall for this Repentant Father act, and I’m not getting on a plane to anywhere unless it’s going to carry me closer to Gabe.
“That’s sweet, Dad. I appreciate the offer,” I say with my own saccharine smile, lies coming easier to me now than they did at the start of the summer. “Can I think about it for a while? It’s been a hard few days.”
“Of course it has, and it’s a big change,” Chuck says, nodding a little too fast. “But don’t take too long. Aunt Sarah has her lawyers all paid up. They’ll take care of everything if I tell them what to do in the next week or so. Otherwise, we’ll have to pay someone else, and I don’t have cash to spare.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know by next week,” I say, knowing it’s the quickest way to get rid of him. By next week, I’m hoping to be so busy taking care of Gabe I won’t have time for Chuck’s crap, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not right now, anyway.
“Perfect.” Chuck smiles a smile that is too bright for a man hoping to give away a six hundred thousand dollar home and pulls me in for a hug.
I go into his arms, forcing myself to soften against him, but when I lay my cheek against his chest all I feel is cold inside. Chuck’s making a mistake if he thinks he can play me the way he has in the past. The sweet, gullible Caitlin, who secretly craved her father’s love, is dead. She died that night in Pitt’s attic, when I locked my fingers around his throat and leaned all my weight forward, blocking off the air to his lungs, strangling the life out of the man who had kidnapped me. I’m someone different now, someone who watches the world with a calculated gaze, and who isn’t afraid to play dirty to protect what is mine.
The kids are mine, and I won’t let Chuck put their welfare in danger. They are mine the way Gabe is mine because I love them all with every cell in my body.
Gabe is imbedded in my heart, so much a part of me I swear I can still feel his soul whispering beneath my skin. I won’t let his parents keep us apart. If he’s still alive, I’m going to find him, and do whatever it takes to bring him back to me.
Gabe is alive, and I have to find him.
That’s all I can think about now. There’s no room for anything else, especially not my father’s latest manipulations. I finish hugging Chuck good-bye and shoo him out the front door as quickly as possible, fifteen minutes with my father already more than I can tolerate.
As soon as Chuck disappears down the concrete steps, Ray pipes up from the kitchen table.
“You don’t believe him, do you, Caitlin?” he asks, proving he was eavesdropping. “All of that sounds way too good to be true.”
“I know, Ray,” I say, ignoring the wave of sadness that rushes through my chest. I wish my brother was like any other ten-year-old kid, and could still believe in wonderful strokes of fortune, and magic, and fathers who come bearing gifts with no strings attached, but he’s not. We all bear scars from the way we were raised, but those scars aren’t wounds we should be ashamed of; they are marks earned in battle that have made us stronger, and better able to protect the people we love.
“I won’t even consider taking him up on that offer until I’ve checked it out upside down and sideways,” I say. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
“Me too,” Ray says, with a smile. “I’ve got your back, too.”
“I know you do.” And even though a ten-year-old boy isn’t the most intimidating ally in the world, at that moment, with Ray grinning at me with candy-sticky lips, Danny brooding upstairs, and Sean giggling as he bites into the last nub of his lollipop and half of it pops out onto the table, I feel lucky to have a few good, little men on my side.