years ago, Spring had come to him, wanting him to arrange for an advance on her trust. She’d been in love. Again.
Frowning, he remembered his reaction, too. Spring was one of those people who went through life wearing rose-colored glasses. She saw only the best in people—even those who had no best at all. Spring refused to recognize that some people simply weren’t worth her loyalty or her affection.
It had been the third time she’d been in love—and that last time was just like the others before had been. Without fail, Spring seemed to migrate toward men with few morals, little ambition and less money. He’d always thought it was because Spring thought she could “save” them. And that never worked.
Always on the lookout for love, she would invariably end up in Reed’s office asking for money to pay off the latest loser so she could move on with her life. But that last time, Reed had been forewarned by yet another sister. Savannah had met Spring’s lover and she’d been worried enough that she’d called Reed. He’d run a background check on Spring’s love of the moment and found a criminal background—fraud, identity theft and forgery. But Spring hadn’t wanted to hear the warnings. She had insisted that Coleman Bates had changed. That he deserved a second chance.
Reed recalled clearly telling her that the man had had a second chance—even a third—and hadn’t changed. But Spring was in love and wouldn’t listen. Standing there now, though, in front of the child she’d left behind, Reed frowned, remembering he’d told Spring to grow the hell up and stop expecting him to sweep in and take care of whatever mess she created. Hurt, angry, Spring had walked out of his office. So later, when she’d really needed him, his sister hadn’t called on Reed. And now it was too late for him to make it up to her.
A swift stab of guilt pierced the edges of Reed’s heart but he fought it back. Regret was indulgence. It wouldn’t help Spring, couldn’t ease the pain of her loss. He’d done what he thought was best for his sister at the time. For the family. And if she had come to him for help in extricating herself from the relationship, he assured himself, he would have done all he could for her. Now all he could do was find answers.
“What happened to Spring?”
“She died two months ago.”
He gritted his teeth as the harsh truth shook him to his bones. He’d known it, felt it, but somehow hearing it made it harder. A quick, sharp slash of pain tore at him and was immediately buried beneath a fresh wave of regret, sorrow. Reed scrubbed one hand across his face then focused on the baby again before shifting to meet Lilah Strong’s clear blue eyes. “That’s hard to hear.”
Spring was his half sister on his father’s side and five years younger than Reed. She’d always been so bright, so happy, so damn trusting. And now she was gone.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it so abruptly.”
Shaking his head, he stared into those eyes of hers. So blue, they were nearly violet. They shone with sympathy he didn’t want and didn’t need. His pain was private. Not something he would share with anyone, let alone a stranger.
To cover the turmoil raging within, he said simply, “There is no way to soften news like that.”
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” Those eyes shifted, changed with her emotions, and now he read grief of her own mingling with a simmering anger in their depths.
He was no more interested in that than he was in her sympathy.
“What happened to my sister?”
“There was a car accident,” she said simply. “Someone ran a red light...”
His eyes narrowed. “Drunk driver?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and patting the baby’s back all at once. “An elderly man had a heart attack. He was killed in the accident, as well.”
So there was no one to hold responsible. No one to be furious with. To blame. Reed was left with an impotent feeling that he didn’t care for.
“You said this happened two months ago,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “Why are you only coming to me now?”
“Because I didn’t know about you,” she said, then looked around the office. “Look, the baby needs a change. Do you mind if we take this conversation over to the couch?”
“What?”
She was already headed for his black leather sofa. Before he could say anything, she’d set the infant down and reached into what had to be a diaper bag slung over her shoulder for supplies.
Struck dumb by the action, he only watched as she expertly changed the baby’s diaper, then handed the folded-up used one to him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
Reluctantly, it seemed, her mouth curved and damned if he didn’t like the look of it.
“Um,” she said wryly, “I’d go for throwing it away.”
Stupid. Of course. He glanced at his small office trash can, then shook his head, crossed to the door and opened it. Signaling to his assistant, he held out the diaper and ordered, “Dispose of this.”
“Yes, sir.” Karen accepted the diaper as she would have an explosive device, then turned away.
Once the door was closed again, Reed looked at the baby, now standing alongside the glossy black coffee table, smacking both hands on the surface and laughing to herself. Shaking his head, he thought of Spring and felt another quick twinge of pain. Still watching the baby, he asked Lilah, “What did you mean you didn’t know about me until now?”
She tossed that thick mass of wavy red-gold hair behind her shoulder and looked up at him as she repacked the baby’s supplies. “I mean, that until last week, I didn’t know Spring had a family. She never talked about you. About any relatives at all. I thought she was alone.”
That stung more than he would have thought possible. His sister had wiped him from her life? So much so that her best friend didn’t even know of his existence? He scrubbed one hand across his face and regretted that last conversation with his sister. Maybe he could have been kinder. More understanding. But he’d assumed, as he supposed everyone did, that there would be more time. That he would, once again, be called on to dig Spring out of trouble, and so he’d been impatient and now she was gone and the chance to make things right had vanished with her.
“She left two letters,” Lilah said and held out an envelope toward him. “I read mine. This one is yours.”
Reed took it, checked that it was still sealed, then noted Spring’s familiar scrawl across the front. He glanced at the baby, still entertaining herself, then he opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper.
Reed. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. God, that’s a weird thought. But if Lilah brought you this letter, she’s also brought you my daughter. I’m asking you to take care of her. Love her. Raise her. Yes, I know I could ask Mom or one of my sisters, but honestly, you’re the only one in our family I can really count on.
Well, that hit him hard, considering that in their last conversation he hadn’t given her the help she’d wanted. Gritting his teeth, he went back to the letter.
Rosie needs you, Reed. I’m trusting you to
