Hiroshi sighed, sat, and leaned back in his chair. The seat didn’t groan with his weight, only serving as further proof of how tight the man kept his ship. Though it was late and most of his staff had gone home, Merrick’s dad still looked pristine. His tie sat tight against his Adam’s apple and his suit remained unwrinkled. The CEO of Prince Technology was nothing if not presentable.
But something else didn’t fit. Exhaustion framed Hiroshi’s dark eyes. A recent development? Or had it always been there and Merrick failed to see it?
He cleared his throat.
His dad released another sigh, folded his hands on top of his desk, and met Merrick’s gaze. “I never expected you to volunteer to meet with me, Son. Especially not at work as you have made it clear my career is not for you. So tell me, what brings you to my side of town?”
Merrick’s mouth turned down and a lump formed in his throat. He stared at the sole picture frame on his father’s desk. The family featured was one he hardly recognized. One from another lifetime. From before. His father stood stoic behind his mother, the man’s redwood hands resting on her willow tree shoulders. Hiroshi looked pained to be anywhere near a camera.
But Merrick’s mother? She’d lived for photos. Said they were a human being’s way of freezing time and capturing the soul. Her expression in this particular photo was pleasant. She held baby Amaya in one arm and had eight-year-old Merrick wrapped in the other. Mom’s fiery red hair matched the reddish tuft of fur on his sister’s tiny head.
There was a time Merrick had wanted to scream at his father. To blame him for the demise of their family.
Now he looked at the photo with new eyes. He saw a withdrawn man trying to keep it together. He saw a lost woman with soft, pale features and strawberry freckles that matched his sister’s. Merrick studied his father’s pointed jaw and tapered eyes as black as his hair. Their hair.
Merrick saw it now, how similar they were beyond genetics. They both wanted the best for Amaya. Maybe they didn’t agree on what the best was, but Merrick could no longer doubt his dad had loved her.
Clearing his throat again, Merrick made his gaze steady. “I’m sorry.” It had taken him too long to speak the words. Now they came across lacking and hollow. Like his heart these days.
Hiroshi gave one quick nod. “I’m sorry too.”
Merrick had to work his jaw to keep it from dropping. Seemed pride was something else he’d inherited from his father. They were learning to let it go. Together.
“Was that all, Son?”
It was too easy. Exchanged apologies following the loss of half their family? He needed more. “Why didn’t you have me arrested? Last year, after I took Amaya and she landed in the hospital again?”
Hiro’s eyebrows arched. “Misunderstandings happen. Your sister . . . If she hadn’t tried it under your care, she would have found a way at home. Which we’ve seen is true.” The man swiveled in his chair and cleared his throat. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Merrick blinked, then peered past his father’s concrete exterior, searching for the man he’d forever failed to see beneath. “Misunderstanding? Dad, you know I put her in danger. But you covered for me.” It hit him then, a brick to his skull. Of course Hiroshi would be embarrassed. This was a PR thing. He couldn’t have his wayward son’s misdeeds showing up in all the papers. “If this is about good publicity, I don’t—”
“Will I never win with you?” His dad set his glasses on the desk and sniffed. “What do I need to do to show you I am not the villain here?”
Villain. Wasn’t that how he’d seen his dad? For once, Merrick didn’t have a retort.
“You are my son,” Hiroshi said in such a low tone, Merrick almost missed it. “I have only ever tried to raise you to be the best man you can be.”
“I’m sorry you feel you failed.” Merrick looked away, unable to bear the disappointment his father would no doubt share. If he hadn’t taken Amaya away last year, things might have turned out differently. She would have gone to Fathoms sooner. Maybe she wouldn’t have given up.
Neither of them said anything for a long time. When Hiroshi finally stood and joined Merrick at the window, he pocketed his hands and stared out at the streets below. “I didn’t fail. I’m proud of you.”
Merrick’s heart stopped and started. Proud? Where was the punch line?
“While I don’t condone your untruthful actions last year,” Hiroshi went on, “I see a brother who risked everything to do what he thought would help his sister. I see a son who went to great lengths to track down his mother. I see a young man who stood on his own two feet, who was willing to sacrifice everything for those he loves. The details are foggy, but your heart was in the right place.”
Merrick swallowed. His misplaced emotions jolted his system.
“I forgive you,” Hiroshi said. “I hope you can forgive me too. I pushed you on Nikki. I tried to make you fit into my own mold. I take partial blame for you taking such desperate and reckless measures. While the choices were yours, I could have listened more. I should have been the person you came to rather than the one you ran from.”
Merrick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t know what to say except, “It’s my fault, Dad.”
“Would you blame yourself if your sister had died of cancer?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“How about a car accident? What if a drunk driver had hit her? Would that have been your fault?”
Merrick waited for the catch. The phrase that would show his dad’s ulterior motives or need for control.
It never came.
“Nooo,” he said slowly. Where was this going?
Hiroshi rocked back on his heels. His reflection in the window revealed glassy eyes and a pained expression. “What if Amaya had died of a poisonous bite? Or the flu? Or by falling down the stairs? Any of those on you, Son?”
Merrick shook his head, starting to catch on but waiting for his father to continue.
“Amaya was sick. Depression is an illness. It is a disease. Those on the outside sometimes brush it off as a choice. A simple change in mood or outlook.” His dad laughed, but the sound was dark, almost resentful. “No one would ever tell a cancer patient to ‘just get over it.’ Why people think they can tell those with a mental illness as much is baffling and cruel.”
Every word sank deep, anchoring in Merrick’s core. His father understood more than he’d ever recognized.
Hiroshi turned toward Merrick. Up close he seemed less put together. More human.
The sight lent a sense of comfort.
“You messed up,” he said. “No one is denying that. But you are not to blame for Amaya’s death. Depression killed your sister. Not you. If you believe me on nothing else, believe this.”
Merrick nodded as he held his father’s gaze. It had taken him years to perfect the art of looking the man in the eyes. Now he found the task easy. There was no malice. No hatred behind his expression. They were two Princes trying to figure out how to move on from tragedy. And for the first time since Amaya Hope’s death, Merrick saw he was not alone.
Hiroshi returned to his desk and Merrick glanced at his phone. He still hadn’t heard from Brooke. He adjusted his perspective and reminded himself of his promises.
He would wait.
And he would find her older sister’s “prince.”
“What now?” Hiro asked when he sat again.
Merrick had the same question. He was at a loss for how to talk to a man he clearly didn’t know at all. With an exhale, he ran a hand over his face, catching himself in the reflection of the dark window. He looked tired, eyes sunken, his hair in desperate need of a cut. “Beats me.”