“Hey,” he puts his mug back on the nightstand and tips my face up to his. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You say that now,” my eyes fill with tears. “But you don’t know what I did.”
He wipes at my cheek, “You’ll tell me, and we’ll handle it. Nothing you tell me is going to change what I feel for you. I’ve looked for you for twenty-eight years Angel. I’m not throwing this away because of something that happened back then. Now, what you tell me might make me angry, but I won’t throw this away.”
“Okay,” I clear my throat and sit up, draining my coffee. Turning back to him, I swipe at the tears on my cheeks. “I’ll tell you it all. Let me get it all out before you say anything okay?”
“I’ll wait,” he promises.
Reaching to the end of the bed, I snag his shirt and slip it over my head. I don’t want to have this conversation while I’m naked. Turning, I cross my legs so that I can face him. Taking his hand, I start my story.
“I didn’t know it, but we were in witness protection.”
His eyes widen in shock, and he opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head and press a finger to his lips. “Let me finish, okay?”
I wait for him to nod. “My dad was an accountant for the Irish mob. I was a baby when he turned on them, and we had to enter witness protection.”
I told him about my dad’s photo getting out because he was an idiot and the mob coming after us, the years on the run and how lonely I’d been. My dad being killed, my mum dying, and all thetimes I’d had to change my name. I’d had four other names since I’d last seen him, with Fiona Monde being my last.
“Jesus, baby. No wonder I couldn’t find you,” he mutters.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “It wasn’t a good time for me.”
“I bet, but why didn’t you look for me? Your foster dad Jake was a Marshal, he could have found me.” I hear the hurt in his voice, and I hate it.
“I was ashamed,” I admit, squeezing his hand.
“What?” He looks surprised, and not a little shocked. “Why the hell would you feel ashamed? This was all on your dad, not you.”
“I know,” I whisper, lowering my eyes. “That’s not what I’m ashamed about.”
I lift my eyes to his confused ones. “Please, don’t hate me. I did what I thought was right at the time.”
His eyes soften for a second, like he wants to pull me into his arms, but he stops himself.
Taking a deep breath, I continue with my story, “We’d been on the run for four months when I found out I was pregnant.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. I squeeze his hand tighter, as if he can keep me grounded. “Tell me.”
I ignore the tears that are threatening. How can this hurt so much, so many years later? But it does; the memory of the baby I’d handed over still haunts me.
“We had a little girl,” I whisper, completely ignoring the tears streaming down my cheeks, lost in the memories. “She was so beautiful. The marshals gave me a choice. I keep her, and she stays on the run with us for however long it was needed. Bearing in mind that if the mob got hold of her, she’d more than likely either be killed or trafficked in some way. My other choice was to give her up for adoption. For me it wasn’t a choice; I’d move heaven and earth to make sure she was safe.”
Inhaling a shaky breath before I continue to tell him about our daughter and what I did. “So I had Jake find me a family, someone he knew was trustworthy. Someone that could keep her safe. One of his colleagues and wife had been trying for years and were unable to have children. They didn’t qualify for legal adoption, so Jake did what marshals do and made it look like Hannah had a baby.” I wipe my cheeks. “They called her Honor, because I told them that’s the name you and I’d picked when we’d discussed having children.”
I lift my eyes to his. Lifting a hand, I cover my mouth, holding back a sob at the devastation in his gaze. “Her name is Honor Hannah Gilbert.” Her name comes out on a wail as I break like I haven’t broken since I placed Honor with the Gilberts.
“Ah fuck, baby, come here,” he gathers me to him, pulling me onto his lap and cradling me. I stuff my face against his neck, sobbing like my heart is breaking, because it is.
“It still hurts like it was yesterday.” I whimper. “It should have gotten better, shouldn’t it? The pain, the guilt of giving her away even though I know she’s had a good life, with good people as her parents.”
“I’m so sorry, Angel.” Garret whispers, kissing my forehead. “I’m so sorry. My heart hurts for you, that you had to make that decision.”
We sit like that, taking comfort from each other when he asks, “How do you know she’s been happy?”
“I had Jake check on her,” I admit. Lifting his shirt, I wipe my face. “After my dad was killed and mom died. We had to wait to see if there was any chatter about me. There was a little, but not enough for me to stay in witness protection. Jake wasn’t happy about that. He didn’t feel right sending me out into the world on my own.”
Letting out a shaky sigh, I sniff back my tears. “He’d basically been a part-time dad to me while we were on the run. It’s because of him that I made it out the other side after I gave Honor up. He’d drag me out of bed and make me train with him. Pretty soon, the other Marshals did too. They taught me everything; hand to hand, how to shoot, how to use a knife. How to disappear if I needed to. He sat me down one day and offered me a life with his family as his niece with a new identity, and he’d arrange for me to see Honor if I wanted.”