Page 146 of Pink Ink

“Talbot was your grandmother’s maiden name,”Jamesprovides.

“Did Mom know?” My question comes out in a hoarse whisper. I’m not sure if I want to know the answer.

He nods. “Almost everything.”

This is why he and Mom didn’t want me to move to New York. They were worried I’d run into the man who I called Dad. I squeeze my eyes shut. My entire life was built on secrets, and everything is tumbling down like a house of cards.

“Two years ago, I buried a man named Richard Talbot.” My voice shakes, and I force myself to look him in the eyes. “I was told he was my father. But I’ve never had one.”

It’s his turn to look like he’s been struck. “None of this was ever my intention. Out of everything I’ve told you, believe this.”

Another tear slips free. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. “I don’t know you.” How could a man who claims he loves me do this to his daughter?

“You do,” he insists, holding a hand out to reach for me. “I’m your father.”

I step back. “One day out of the year. Even then, you were only a father because of a piece of paper and Mom’s devotion to you.”

I wanted him to be around so badly when I was younger. As I grew older, I think I wanted the idea of a father more than I wanted him. It’s why I thought searching for his memory would give me the father I thought was missing.

“I always looked out for you and your mother. I wish I could have done more, but everything I did, I did to keep you safe. Mora understood this,” he continues on the same spiel.

“Safeisn’t enough. It wasn’t for me, and itneverwas for Mom.” The house I grew up in always felt like something was missing. In truth, I think it was the part of Mom that my father took with him. “Keeping us safe is just an excuse you tell yourself to make you feel better at night when you’re lying awake thinking about how you abandoned your family.”

“Reyna—”

“No, I’m not finished.” I quickly swipe the tears off my face. “Do you know how many times I begged Mom to ask you to come visit more often? How many times I cried, wondering if it was because you had another family or you were ashamed of me? Or that you were dead, and we didn’t know it? Or because you hated me? I held my mother’s hand, looked into her dying eyes, andpromisedher everything wouldbe fine because you were waiting for her. I never wanted to be a liar but you made me one.”

I inhale a shuddered breath when I notice my dad’s eyes mist over. Maddox creeps closer to me, making his presence known by brushing his fingers on my forearm before dropping his hand.

“Let me make it up to you.” There’s the most subtle hint of desperation in his gaze that doesn’t match his steady voice.

“You died. Two years ago.”

“Reyna.” His composure fractures into something raw.

I cross my arms, hugging myself. “There’s nothing a dead man can do for me.”

“Reyna,please.”

“No.”

“I was always there, Reyna. Even if you never saw me, I was there for you at every step.” It’s like his heart is shattering in front of me, and maybe it makes me a monster to feel happy that he’s capable of hurting like I did. “I was sitting at the back of the lecture hall when you played a tree in second grade. You had a sneezing fit that made that boy you had a crush on, Justin, angry during his solo. I was there when you won the Chelsea Kennedy film grant and later came third at the Avery Film Festival.”

“What?” I whisper.

“I paid for all of your film classes. Donated to your high school so they could expand the art department. I made sure Mrs. Norton retired early after she made you cry in class. I ensured a job position opened up for you at the museum near your old house. Did background checks on every one of your boyfriends before you went on your first dates. I fired two of your therapists so you could see someone better. Asked your mom to take you to art galleries because I couldn’t do it.”

He… The tears flow freely down my face. This whole time I thought I existed to him for a handful of days a year, and those hours were a chore for him. But he was there, loving me from afar.

“I agree, it wasn’t nearly enough.” He edges closer. “Allow me to make it up to you and your mother. It’s what she would have wanted. We owe it to her. I promise that you are under my protection from here on out. Roland won’t go anywhere near you.”

My nails dig crescent moons into my palm as I try to get my emotions under control. I can’t unpack years of neglect right now. Just because he did all those things doesn’t change the fact that he could have texted or called to ask about my day once in a while.

Or not have faked his fucking death.

For a second I want to run up to my dad and cry into his arms like I never got to as a kid. All I wanted was for him to be around. Learning that he was always in the background? Finding out that maybe he loved me in his own way? It shatters everything I thought I knew.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe that you didn’t care?” I ask through the tears.