“Luis sent me pictures.”

“It’s quiet, Ava. I picked it myself. Secluded. Lots of acreage. Overlooks the ocean. You know…” He glanced away again. “Quiet. I know you need that.”

And there it was. The knowledge she’d been skirting around ever since she’d found the Irin. Found the real reason she heard those voices in her head. Jasper had been one of the few she’d never had to hide around. She’d known, even as a child, that the man who heard beautiful music in his head—was tormented by it at times—would understand the isolated girl she’d been.

Jasper had known all along. Somehow, he’d known.

“Jasper.”

His hand shook as he lifted the cigarette. He was getting worse before her eyes. The demons were waking up despite the warm Italian sun and the peaceful garden.

“Just take the house, Ava. I want to give it to you.”

“Dad—”

“I told you”—his eyes flared as they met hers, a flash of gold behind the brown—“you don’t have to call me that. I mean, you can, but… you don’t have to. I never expected that. I know I wasn’t…”

There was something going on. She felt Malachi’s hand tighten on hers. “Jasper, I need to ask about your family. My family.”

His face went out of focus for a second. When she blinked, it was back to normal. A trick of light and shadow. For a second, his skin had appeared luminous.

Jasper’s voice was harder when he answered. “I told you I don’t know much about them. Foster care, remember?”

He was lying. Ava knew it. She opened her senses to listen to his soul’s voice.

Jasper’s voice was the other reason Ava had always trusted him, even as a child. Though not as pure as Malachi’s, it nonetheless had a resonance that had been soothing to her as a child. Jasper’s voice had always made her feel safe. She’d put it down to him being an artist. He created beautiful music; why wouldn’t it resonate from his mind?

Now that voice sounded broken. Halting.

“Malachi,” Jasper asked the man at her side. “You have family?”

“I did. My parents are both dead now.”

A hollow longing tone rang in his mind. “Sorry to hear that. My mom died when I was young.”

A lie. Ava was positive.

Jasper continued, “That’s why I don’t know much about my family, you know? She was alone.” He glanced at Ava. “On her own. Glad… I’m glad Ava met you.”

Ava leaned forward. “Jasper, I wanted to know—”

“Nothing to know.” He leaned toward her and cupped her face in his hands. “Beautiful girl. Beautiful Ava.” His thumb brushed across her cheek. His fingers, thickly callused from years of playing, were warm. “You got a good guy now. I know he is. Because you’d never settle for less. And you’re gonna get married. Maybe even have kids someday. And you’ll be a kick-ass mama, ’cause that’s what you had. A kick-ass mama. I haven’t done a lot right in my life, but the one thing was picking a hell of a good woman to have my kid. So don’t worry about the past. Look to the future, baby girl. Don’t look for ghosts.”

He knew. He knew something, but he wouldn’t tell her. Maybe he thought she was prying, but she knew there was something; otherwise, why would he lie about it?

“Dad, why won’t you tell me?”

He closed his eyes, and his voice was hoarse. “About what?”

“About your mother.” She took a deep breath. “About Ava.”

He drew back as if he’d been burned. “Who told you that?”

“I did,” Malachi said. “We know your mother was named Ava, Mr. Reed. And we know that you made the records of her disappear. Why did you do that?”

A trick of the light again, and the scent of sandalwood and ash on the breeze. Ava sucked in a breath and it was gone. What was going on? Her father looked angry. Jasper was never angry with her. At himself? Often. But never with her.

“Jasper?”

“You had your man check up on me? Who’s the ‘we’ he’s talking about, huh?” He shook out another cigarette. “What the hell, Ava?”

“It was… I was curious—”

“You don’t need to be curious about that shit. You don’t need to know about my maman.”

She saw Malachi tilt his head at the word.

Ava asked again, “Your mother? Maman? Is that French? Was she French, Jasper?”

He lit the cigarette with shaking hands. “I’m done. I’m not talking about this. Will you move into that damn house or not?”

“Jasper, I need to know.”

“No, you don’t. And I’m not talking about her.” He lit the cigarette, and when his eyes met hers again, he was totally shut down. She knew she’d get nothing out of him.

“Dad—”

“I fucking hate,” he whispered, “that you call me dad when you want something from me, Ava. Fucking hate that. I’d rather you call me Jasper. Rather you call me dickhead or bastard or one of the million names you probably thought over the years. I’d rather you call me any of that shit than call me dad just to… to get something from me.”

The anger was always there, though she pushed it down. Forced it back. Chose to treasure what they had and what they could become. But it was always there. The lack of him simmered in her blood.

“I never wanted money,” she said from behind clenched teeth. “Or houses. Or cars. Or anything, Jasper. I never wanted any of that stuff. But this? The one thing I’ve ever asked you. This you won’t give me?”

He fingered the cigarette in his hand and reached for his coffee. Put it down.

“Ruben!” he yelled.

“Jasper, please.”

Malachi stood up and moved behind her, but Ava stayed sitting, staring at her father, begging him to meet her eyes.

Ruben walked around the side of the house. “Yeah, boss?”

“Please, Dad.”

Jasper ignored her. “Ava and her fiancé need to go. And find me a bottle of Grey Goose.”

She shook her head.

“Unbelievable,” Malachi said.

“Congratulations,” Jasper said, lifting his eyes to her mate. “I’m fucking thrilled for her. And I can see how much you love her just by looking at you. I can see shit like that. I love her too. I know she’s pissed at me right now, but she’s the best thing in my life, and I’d do anything to protect her.”

Malachi squeezed her shoulder and said, “Maybe the way to protect her is by telling her whatever you’re trying to hide.”

“She may think that, but she’d be wrong.”

Her father’s eyes finally met hers, and the haunted look was back. It was the look he wore sometimes when he looked at her mother. At her. The tormented part of Jasper Reed knew how much he’d lost by not being a good man. It was the same part that locked himself away from the world for months at a time and wrote some of the most achingly beautiful music Ava had ever heard.

“Love you, baby girl,” he said to her. “Gonna work on your song when I get back to the studio. Promise.”

As if she hadn’t heard that promise a million times. There must be a dozen different versions at this point. She had never heard a single one.

“Sure. Right.” She stood and took Malachi’s hand. “Bye, Jasper. Take care of yourself.”

Ava walked away from the man who had fathered her without looking back. She held Malachi’s hand the whole time.

HE’D spent the hour since her unsuccessful meeting with Jasper holding her on the small couch in their hotel room. He hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t offered any words of comfort or anger or frustration, though she could tell he was worried.

Her concentration was strained, her emotions were strung out, and Ava was exhausted. Malachi’s voice slipped through. Before she’d been able to shield herself, his voice sat in the back of her mind constantly. But like her father’s, it was more like a steady background music than a jarring intrusion.

Reshon.

Soul mate.

“Imagine a person created for you. Another being so in tune with you that their voice was the clearest you’ve ever heard in your mind.”