Logan wasn’t in the kitchen either. He debated the advisability of going next door anyway when he saw Logan enter Sky’s house. Unsure of what his presence might mean, he walked across the drive.
Before he could knock, Sky opened the door.
“Come on in and join the party.”
He noted she didn’t smile, and her voice was strained.
Anna sat at the table, one hand at the base of her throat, twin lines of worry creasing her brow. “You talked to Cade? What did he say?”
“He sounded pissed,” snapped Logan. “Said you better not be starting that same shit again.”
He held up a hand and looked at Max. “His words, not mine.” He turned back to his mother. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
The rhythmic tick-tock of the big clock on the wall and steady drip-drip from the sink faucet were the only sounds in the room. Max did a double take at Sky when he noted no surprise at all in her expression. Only sympathy and understanding emanated from her concerned gaze as she looked between mother and son. How did she know? Did Anna tell her?
Logan took an unsteady step toward the table and drug out a chair. Without a word or even a glance around, he sat down.
Tick-tock.
Drip-drip.
Max didn’t realize he held his breath until Sky crossed his vision with a glass of water, which she placed in front of the boy.
She walked back to her spot by the sink, placing a hand on Max’s bicep and squeezing lightly as she passed.
Tick-tock.
Drip-drip.
Tension buzzed and crackled in the air like electric sparks. The ominous silence continued, as though everyone was unable or maybe afraid to break it for fear the room would explode from the immense pressure inside.
Logan picked up the glass and downed half of it before putting it back on the table.
Tick-tock.
Drip-drip.
Max glanced at Sky, who watched Anna closely.
The women gazed at each other as though communicating on some secret level, like those whistles only dogs could hear. If he hadn’t been watching so closely himself, he might have missed the almost imperceptible nod from Sky.
He jerked his gaze back to Anna, who inhaled deeply and turned to Logan.
All color drained from her face, and her eyes clenched tightly shut as she whispered, “Yes. Cade Jackson is your father.”
Logan’s body tensed, and he drew in an audible breath as the impact of Anna’s words hit him.
Tick-tock.
Drip-drip.
“Now what?” she asked.
Logan’s face paled, and he stared mutely at his mother.
Max’s heart ached for the pain reflected in those two words. He tensed at Sky’s light touch on his arm, understanding eyes silently offering support.
Logan cleared his throat, and Max turned his attention in that direction.
“Now what?” he stammered, his croaky voice gaining an octave at the end. “That’s all you have to say?”
Anna wrung her hands together, then placed them in her lap, eyes focused on her son. “What do you want me to say?”
His previously ashen complexion suddenly bloomed with color. Body tense, he lurched upright in his chair and sucked in a lungful of air. “I want to know why. Why you lied to me my whole life. Why you kept me from him.”
Anna’s shoulders slumped. Her jaw worked as she ground her teeth together. Arms crossed over her chest, she sighed. “I did what I thought was best for you, son. That’s all I ever cared about.”
“Why. Did. You. Lie. To. Me.” Logan’s clipped enunciation of each word, accompanied by a light tap of one finger on the tabletop, emphasized his grief.
“Nothing good will come of this, Logan,” said Max. “That bullshit about the truth setting you free is just that. Bullshit.”
He jumped from his chair and whirled on Max. “You know, don’t you? You’re part of this…this lie.”
“I know that your mother did the right thing—”
“For who?” he shouted. “For who?”
“He didn’t want you,” said Anna softly.
