Darkness Before Dawn Part 5

He groans. "My sister's twenty-four, has a three-year-old son. Cutest little boy in the world, really." My heart skips a beat, hearing the pride in his voice as he talks about his nephew.

"Do you have pictures?" I ask, already knowing the answer to that.

"Of course I do, what kind of uncle do you think I am?"

His phone lights up and he begins to scroll through his photo alb.u.m. I try not to look too interested in seeing his pictures, I mean, I don't know if there are any naked people on there, but I'm too curious to care. I end up scooting right beside him and watching as he scrolls through photos of him by himself, with friends, Alex, and other people I don't recognize. There are a couple of him with a pretty brunette, he hovers on one of them before clicking on one of him with the most adorable little boy. In the picture, Dean is wearing a navy blue Cubs T-s.h.i.+rt and carrying the little boy, who is wearing the same outfit, on his shoulders. They're both smiling happily at the camera. I put my hand over his slowly, taking the phone from him, and he lets me. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time as I sit there, staring at the picture of him and the little boy. Tears fill my eyes as I look at their bright smiles and the bright sun and green gra.s.s around them. They're so happy. So free. And I'm so jealous.

"He really is the cutest kid ever," I say with a sniffle. "Can I look through the rest?"

"Sure," he whispers.

I scroll through the photos, stopping at the one he hovered on before. It's him and a beautiful girl with shoulder length dark brown hair and caramel colored eyes. She has a b.u.t.ton nose and a dazzling smile, and Dean is standing beside her with an arm draped over her shoulder as he kisses the side of her face. The strangest sensation moves through me as I stare at them together.

"Who is she?" I ask in a clipped tone.

He laughs softly and scoots closer and he cups my chin to look at his face, which I can make out with the phone's light. "That's my sister Sandra," he replies, his eyes boring into mine. We look at each other for a long moment, drowning in silence, before he brushes his thumb over my cheek. I lick my dry lips, watching as his eyes drift down to them and his own lips part. "Do you want me to kiss you, chick?" he asks in a whisper that I can barely hear through the loud pounding in my ears.

My breath falters for a moment as I stare at him, wide-eyed, pondering his question, even though there's nothing to ponder. He can't. We can't.

"I'm pregnant," I whisper back, as if that places a chast.i.ty belt over my lips.

"I know," he says back just as quietly, moving his face closer to mine until I can feel his breath over my lips, though they're still not touching. "f.u.c.k," he mutters before barely brus.h.i.+ng my lips with his. The smell of cinnamon and cigarettes makes me snap out of the moment and I gulp down loudly while backing away from him. He follows suit, scooting his body so that our knees are no longer touching.

"Sorry," he says quietly.

I shake my head even though he can't see me without the light of the phone. "No. I just-"

"I know," he responds before I finish my sentence.

He takes the phone from my hands and gets up, muttering his good night as he steps out of the room, leaving me staring into the dark.

What the h.e.l.l just happened?

Aimee and I pull up in front of her parents' house, our parents...I guess. I look up at the house I haven't seen in twenty-two years and feel absolutely nothing. According to Aimee, when she told her mom, Colleen, about me a couple of weeks ago, she fainted. Her dad, Camden, still doesn't believe it, and I don't blame him. I don't think I would believe it either. I step out of the car and look around, and that's when I see the house across the street and my chest starts to ache. The Home Alone house. Blake. I can't go anywhere without seeing her in everything I do. She's rooted so deep into me that no matter what happens, Blake has ruined me forever. She fixed me and broke me all at once.

Aimee stands next to me, wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my chest. "Don't worry. She'll come back to us, I know she will," she whispers.

I want nothing more than to believe that, but it's been so long. I do believe it, but I think she needs to be found, and I'm going to look for her.

"I know, Aimee. I know," I reply and steer her toward the front door.

She takes a step back and looks at me, holding my hands between us. "You know Blake would be horrified if she saw you right now, right? We're all hurting and worried about her, but you need to stay strong. Take care of yourself so that when you get her back you can take care of her too. You look like a mess. A ghost of yourself," she says, her voice breaking as her eyes fill with tears.

I take a breath, wis.h.i.+ng I could offer positive words, but come up short. "That's all I am, Aim. A ghost of myself. I don't even know who I am without her."

A soft sob escapes her and she hugs me one last time, comforting me and herself at once. When she backs away again she wipes her tears and sniffles before leading the way again.

As we make it up the steps, the door swings open and a man and a woman appear in front of us. I've been seeing them on television for a while now, so I'm not surprised by how they look. Still, seeing them makes the color drain from my face as I stand on the steps of their colonial style house. The house I was taken from. The house I slept in, played in, potty trained in. The woman is looking at me with eyes that only a mother could have for her son, lost or not.

"Oh my G.o.d," she gasps as she clasps her hands over her mouth and tears stream out of her big green eyes. "It's really you."

Camden is staring at me as if he's trying to figure out whether or not I'm real.

I surprise myself, by stepping forward and extending my arms out to them before they both rush toward me. The woman clings to my neck as the man sandwiches her between us, holding us tightly. Aimee grabs on to my left arm and squeezes it. For a couple of minutes, we're as united as our family could be. Yet the more I think about family, the more I think of Blake. And even though these people, my blood, are holding me up, I feel myself shattering beneath them.

They eagerly lead me inside and we settle down in their living room.

"Wow," Camden says, his eyebrows pinched together. "I just can't believe it!"

I nod and give him a shrug and a slight smile, as Colleen looks at me, and touches my face and my arms continuously. I let her, because that's probably what I'll do when I finally have Blake in my arms again. Though it is a little strange coming from a woman that hasn't seen me in over twenty years, but a mother is a mother and her touch doesn't make me uncomfortable.

"Aimee tells us that you were involved with Blake Brennan before she went missing?" Camden asks, and I know I shouldn't feel the rage I feel at the question. He makes it sound so insignificant. No, I was not involved with Blake. You are not just involved with the person that causes your world to make sense. You live for that person. You breathe for that person. So no, involved, is not the word I would use to describe my relations.h.i.+p with Blake.

"Blake is everything to me. She's not somebody I'm involved with, she is my reason, my everything," I say calmly.

His eyebrows shoot up and I see the surprise in Colleen's eyes. I wonder if they think that because I've been lost all these years without them as my family, that I'm incapable of love. I look over at Aimee, who now has tears in her eyes, and I think again of how funny life is. Here she is, in the house she grew up in, with the people who raised her, and she goes through life isolating herself from most people. She's the opposite of what you would expect somebody in this upbringing to be.

I, on the other hand, am whole. My friends are whole, and if you look through my family photos growing up, you won't find absent souls in our eyes. You'll see laughing, amused, caring, loving eyes. As I look at the photos on their end tables, all I see are ghosts. In that moment, I understand. I am not the orphan--they are. I am not the broken child, Aimee is. I didn't grow up going to private school or surrounded by socialites, but I grew up with love.

"I thought you were dating that model, Erin Andrews?" Colleen asks quietly.

"That was a long time ago," I reply.

"I just saw your pictures together at an event. I even bought the magazine because I loved the dress she was wearing," my mother says.

"And because you're a gossip queen," Aimee chimes in rolling her eyes.

"You can't believe anything you see or read in those things. They probably took pictures of us talking and decided to make it into a story about us getting back together. Erin is happily dating somebody," I answer, and am annoyed that I have to explain this to a politician's wife. Of all people, she must know that the media is always full of s.h.i.+t.

"So, Blake Brennan, huh...Aimee says you met her in foster care. I'm so sorry that you had to live there, son. If I had known..." Camden's voice breaks and he looks pained.

"Don't feel bad about something that you couldn't have fixed. Even if you would have known, I'm glad I was there. I met the best people in my life there. We're a family, and yes, Blake is one of them," I answer.

I can tell it's a lot for him to process, so I give him time before I continue.

"I met with Blake's grandfather yesterday, Brian Benson-I'm sure you've heard of him," I say, raising an eyebrow, because everybody knows that name.

"Brian?" Camden gasps. "Blake?" He has a horrified look on his face, and I know it's because he's judging Brian's reputation.

"Yes, Brian, that Brian. I need help finding Blake. I don't have time for you to sit here and judge whose granddaughter she is," I bite out.

Camden looks as if I've slapped him. "Judge? You're confusing shock with judging, son. I'm not judging anybody. I could never judge Brian. h.e.l.l, Mark is your d.a.m.n G.o.dfather, for crying out loud," he exclaims. My eyes widen at that because I know not many people, if any, know that Mark and Brian are related.

"How do you know Brian?" I ask suspiciously.

He smiles. "He's an old friend." His smile falters and he crinkles his eyebrows. "So you're saying that Blake is Liam's little girl?"

I run my hands down my face. "I don't know who Liam is," I sigh, "I don't know who Blake's father is, I just know that Brian is her grandfather. I do know that Brian doesn't want her father to know that she's alive yet."

Colleen gasps and she cups her mouth closed. "Oh my G.o.d, that poor man," she says as tears fill her eyes.

"Honey, can you get us a drink, please? Aimee, go help your mother," Camden demands quietly. They don't question him, they just go toward the kitchen and leave me sitting there with my shocked father.

He turns to me and closes his eyes. When he opens them I see pain. "Liam doesn't know his little girl is alive?" he asks in a whisper.

"I guess not. Do you think he'd help me find her?" I ask desperately.

He looks at me like I have two heads. "That's his daughter, of course he'll help...but it won't be pretty. Does Brian know who has her?"

"He said it was the O'Brien's," I mutter under my breath.

His sharp intake of breath makes my stomach drop.

"Then it's best that Liam doesn't find out," he states gravely.

"Why? You were just looking all heartbroken that this Liam guy doesn't know his daughter is alive and now you say it's best he doesn't find out?"

Camden's eyes widen. "Your tantrums were definitely cuter when you were a little boy," he says with a huff.

A growl escapes me as I stand up. "I'm not throwing a tantrum! This is not a G.o.dd.a.m.n game to me! I need to find my girlfriend and I would appreciate a little cooperation. I'm going crazy over here, can't you see that?" I shout, throwing my hands up.

Aimee and Colleen run back into the room and straight toward me, putting their arms around me. I'm too f.u.c.king p.i.s.sed to calm down and the only person that has the power to calm me down has been f.u.c.king kidnapped by some f.u.c.king Irish mob boss.

"Take a deep breath, Cole. Please," Aimee pleads as she lets me go.

I do as I'm told and begin to pace the room with my hands on my head. Once I feel like I can speak again, I sit in a chair on the opposite side.

"Who is Liam in all this? Why do they keep taking his daughter?" I ask quietly.

"He's Brian's right hand."

I close my eyes and try to process this. "Why isn't Brian out there trying to get his granddaughter back?"

"He is, Cole. Brian's a smart man. He thinks things through. He's lost a lot, too. Trust that he's doing his best to get her back."

None of this s.h.i.+t makes sense and none of it makes me want to trust a f.u.c.king mobster. They're the ones that have some kind of f.u.c.king p.i.s.sing contest going on and my girlfriend is stuck in the middle of it.

"Camden, I need your help. I need you to help me look for Blake. I can't live like this anymore," I plead as I look into his eyes, hoping he can see how serious I am about this s.h.i.+t. If it takes me joining the d.a.m.n mafia to find her, I'll f.u.c.king do it.

"Cole, the police have searched everywhere for her. If you say that Brian knows where she is, just let him do what he needs to do. I can't step on his toes," my father pleads back.

"Why? Doesn't the government pay you for justice?" I spit angrily.

Now it's his turn to rein in his temper. "Brian is a good friend, those people are like family to me. Brian's kids and I have been best friends since we were kids. I don't need you to tell me where my priorities lay. If you're trying to make me feel guilty for not being a good f.u.c.king mayor, you might as well save your bulls.h.i.+t. I am a d.a.m.n good mayor, but I am also loyal to the people that have always been there for me," he says, rubbing his face roughly.

"What do you know about that old farm we used to go to when I was little?" I ask suddenly.

I watch his face ashen in surprise. "I...sold it. Why?"

"Who did you sell it to?"

"Cole," Camden says dragging a hand over his face. "Why are you asking me about that place?"

I clench my jaw. "Blake thought it was her grandfather's farm..."

"It was originally," he replies tiredly. "He gave it to me when I was a kid because I loved it so much. Don't you remember all of us spending our summers there? I couldn't keep it after you were taken. That was your favorite place in the world. I couldn't bear to look at it without you."

I nod my head, but don't reply. That was my favorite place, but I don't remember ever going there as a family.

"The only reason I loved going there so much was because of Blake," I mutter under my breath.

He chuckles. "You were a kid. I'm not going to say you didn't enjoy playing with her, but you always liked going, with or without her."

"Trust me, I only liked going because I thought she was going to be there."

He shakes his head. "Okay, if you say so. Just let Brian do what he can, okay?"

"Sure."

After we leave their house, I drop off Aimee feeling no better than I did on the way there. My heart still aches, my muscles feel exhausted, my eyes still burn, and my mind is burnt out. The only thing I can think about is Blake and wonder where they took her. Wonder if they're feeding her and what they're doing to her. I look in the rearview mirror when I come to a stop light and all I see is a life-less soul staring back at me. The pain in my eyes no longer a visitor, but a full time resident. He and his buddy rage have taken over every ounce of me and I'm not sure if they'll ever get out; not sure if I want them to until I get my girl.

A honking car behind me makes me tear my eyes away from myself and look at the streets before me. I call Mark and practically beg him to get somebody in his family to help me get Blake. He finally caves and tells me to go to his house for drinks with him and his nephew. I don't question him before speeding over to his condo before he changes his mind or makes up some bulls.h.i.+t excuse.

I hand my keys over to the valet and jog to the elevator. As soon as I get in, I hear someone call out for me to hold the door open for them. f.u.c.king A, of course somebody needs to get into the d.a.m.n elevator at the same time I do. I push down to hold it and slide an arm between the closing doors as I wait for an old lady with an oversized purse and grocery bag to catch up and come inside. I smile politely and step aside, pressing down the b.u.t.ton to the forty-fifth floor again.

I'm still replaying the incident at Camden and Colleen's house when I reach his door and snap out of my thoughts when it swings open before I knock. Standing on the other side, holding it open for me is a younger version of Mark.

"Who are you?" I ask, confused.

He has a scar on his top lip that spreads slightly when he smiles. He's a big guy too, I notice as I size him up. I'm thinking he probably weighs about 220, and he's a little taller than me, so probably 6'3.

"I'm Connor. I would ask who the f.u.c.k you are, but Uncle Mark doesn't have people over too much. I'm guessing you're Cole?" he asks, his voice full of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Yeah," I reply as we shake hands. "Uncle Mark, huh?"

"Yep."

I turn around and look at Connor again. He looks so familiar, but I can't really place him.

"You still not done checking me out, bro?" he asks with a smirk.

I take a step back. "I'm not checking you out. You just look familiar."

He snickers. "Yeah, I get that a lot after the arrest. They made a big f.u.c.king deal and accused me of attacking a city employee outside of city hall."

"Ohhhh yeah," I draw out after realization dawns on me. "Well, did you?"

He laughs and puts his hands up defensively. "I cannot confirm nor deny that. My attorney is in the shower. He must be present to make any statement about my whereabouts that day."