Say I'm Yours (Page 38)
“Okay.” I sit beside him and gather one of his big hands in both of mine. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not his son.”
Trent shakes his head and another tear drops. He clearly believes this crazy talk. “I heard them say it. I heard my mother say I wasn’t his son and that they weren’t going to tell me. It’s not a fucking lie or me bein’ stupid. I heard her say that I wasn’t his son. I heard with my own ears them say I wasn’t supposed to find out. Well, too fucking late! I found out, so yeah, I’m right where I belong. Alone.”
My mouth opens a little as he crumbles. “You don’t mean that.”
He releases a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, but I do. Don’t you see it now? It all makes sense. I’ve never been a Hennington. I don’t look like my brothers. I have blond hair and they have brown. I’m the only one with blue eyes. I hate fishin’. I hated the horse farm. It’s crystal clear, and I don’t know why I never saw it before . . . I’m not his son!”
“Honey, listen to me.” I shift and his eyes lock on mine. “There’s a mistake somewhere.”
Trent leans over, grabs a stack of papers, and shoves them in my face. “Tell me, Grace. Tell me how this is a goddamn mistake! Look at the papers! I’m B positive. My blood type is B positive. My father is A positive and so is my mother. There’s no fucking way I could be his kid.”
“But . . .” I look at the papers that prove Trent’s blood type is different from the rest of his family’s. “I don’t know what to say.”
He looks at the ceiling and wipes his face. “I don’t know who I am! I’ve always been a Hennington. Now, who the fuck am I? I don’t know who my father is. And my mother! She kept this from me. She lied to me for forty years. Both of them did.”
“Listen to me.” I get to my knees and hold his face in my hands. “You know who you are. And some blood test doesn’t tell you who your father is. A life does. A family does.”
“Don’t give me that shit. They’ve lied to me! My whole life. His name is on my fucking birth certificate. If he’s not my father, who is? Why lie? Why not tell me at some point?” Trent goes on, clearly upset. “They never planned to tell me. They got unlucky, and that’s how I found out. Everything, Grace . . . I don’t even know who I am.”
Hearing the words from his lips, destroys me. I don’t blame him for being so distraught. If I found out my father wasn’t my actual dad, I would be the same way. He loves Rhett, and I’m sure he feels as if this is a huge betrayal. And it is. I honestly can’t believe that his parents would lie to him. Family is everything to them. That being the case, it doesn’t change who he is. His parentage doesn’t affect the man Trent has become.
“I know this is impossible. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re feeling.” I drop my hands.
“You have no idea. You have no fucking clue what I feel. I need you to go. I need to be alone. I don’t want to listen to your reasons or any of that shit. I’m not going back to that hospital.”
I try to recall what Cooper said about how Trent was going to push. When he feels scared, he lashes out at those around him. He’s going to push me away because that’s what he does. He’s hurting, though. Like my mama always says, anger is the outward cry of fear.
“Well, I’m not leavin’.”
Trent yanks his hands back. “Then I’ll leave.”
I shrug my shoulder. “Fine. I’ll follow you.”
“No, you’re upset. I get it. But you’re not going to walk away from this. Not from me. If you want to be angry, then I’ll sit here and let you be angry. If you want to scream and rant, I’ll listen. I’ll help you in any way I can, but I’m not leavin’ you. We fight together, because I love you.”
Trent shifts forward, his hands are on my face and he crushes his lips to mine. He kisses me as if I’m the only thing in the world. It’s hard and brutal. I hold on to his arms as he moves me closer. It’s like he’s inhaling me, and I take it all. Trent pushes me onto my back.
His body covers me as he devours my mouth. Our tongues dance and passion fills the air around us. Trent’s hands drift down my side and behind my thigh so he can hook my leg around him. His tongue glides from my neck and then across my shoulder. I close my eyes and arch my back when he heads toward my ear.
“Make me forget,” he pleads. “Make me forget like only you can. I don’t know who I am, and I need you to remind me.”
His hands drift lower and grip my ass. He kisses me harder than the last one, but I don’t care. If he needs me, I’ll be here.
I touch his face, breaking the kiss, and bring his eyes to mine. “I love you. I love who you are,” I say ardently as I kiss his nose. “I love everything about you.” I bring my lips to his eyelids and touch each one. “I know who you are.” I kiss his mouth before looking him straight in the eyes. “You’re mine and I’m yours. Nothing changes that.”
His blue eyes fill with pain. “I can’t—”
I bring his lips back to mine and try to make him forget. I kiss him as if he’s everything. I kiss him with every fiber in my being. He’s the same man he’s always been, and I’ll show him that. He’s lost, and I want to help him find his way. If this is all I can do, I’ll be the balm to his pain.
I’ll save him by loving him.
“I’m lost,” he admits before his lips touch mine again.
His hands are everywhere, and I let him lead. His touch is rough but never painful. I moan when he removes my pants hastily, tossing them across the stable, and then promptly finding his way to my clit. He kisses my neck and ear as he continues to rub in tiny circles. I buck when he inserts a finger, curling it to hit the spot that drives me crazy.
Before I know it, my shirt and bra are off before my breast is in his mouth. Trent continues to draw pleasure from my body as I whisper, “I love you.”
I wait for him to say something. I can feel him pulling back, it’s time to take over. Using my hips, I flip myself so I’m on top. I move down his body, kissing my way to his navel.
The low hiss comes from his lips when I keep going lower. I discard his pants, and then free his cock. Slowly, I lick his length, loving the sounds he makes. “Fuck, Grace. I can’t . . .”
“You can. You can feel. This is us.” I use my tongue again as he groans louder. My hand drifts up his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath my fingers. He fights but loses it completely when I wrap my mouth around him.
I take him in my mouth and start to bob. His fingers tangle in my hair and he grunts as I suck him hard. I go up and down, taking him deep and loving every sound that falls from his mouth.
“Now, baby. Now,” he says as he pulls me off. I climb his body, and he tugs my mouth to his. “I need you,” he moans against my skin. “I need you, Gracie.”
“I’m yours. Take me,” I say, but I’m already climbing on top of him and sinking down onto his length.
“Don’t give up on me,” he says as I rock back.
“Never. I’ll never give up on us.”
I start to move, trying to remind him of what we are and who he is. His hands grip my hips and he helps me keep the pace. We don’t say much, but we never break eye contact. I try to show him everything he is. I don’t hold anything back as I give him my body, my heart, and my soul.
We continue to make love. Our connection is stronger than ever, and I don’t need words to see what he’s feeling. He needs me and this as much as I do. The sounds of love and ecstasy fill the air as I give myself to him. I take all of him. I love all of him. Every broken and damaged part is mine because he is.
I lean down, touch his face, and tell him again how much I love him. I want the words to be etched into his soul. I want him to not just hear them but to feel them.
He drags me higher so we’re nose to nose. “You’re the only thing I know that’s real.”
“I’m real. I’m yours, and I love you, Trent.”
I’ll say it until he believes it, until he knows that even if everything else we know in the world is taken away, I’ll always be his.
We lie here on the blankets with her arms wrapped around me. Just like all those years ago, we’re here, alone but together, and one of us is hurting. My mind replays the conversation in the hospital on repeat.
“Trent is his son in every way that matters,” Mama says and then sighs. “We’d planned to tell him, but . . .”
“No one tells him I’m not his father.”
Not my father.
A part of my entire being slipped away in that second. He’s my father, but he’s not. The lies and deception eat away at me. They could’ve told me, but they chose to keep their secrets.
All those times I was told I was a Hennington.
Tons of lies.
Grace props her head on my chest, and I try to calm my heart. “Talk to me,” she urges.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Trent, don’t pull away from me, please.”