Chapter 208 You're Special, Sav Savannah Flashback(20 years ago) I still remember the summer I turned ten—the one that always sits like a bruise under my skin when I think about my childhood. Everyone else swears it was one of our “happiest” family summers, a golden memory, a picture-perfect era of cookouts and sunshine and music. But when I look back, all I can see is the way the sunlight burned too hot, the way the laughter felt like it was happening through a wall, and the way my father’s hand had left a sting on my cheek that my mother would pretend not to notice all day. That afternoon, the backyard was full. Not just full—stuffed. Bodies everywhere. Aunts, uncles, cousins, neighborhood friends. The kind of crowd where everyone is too distracted to notice anything smaller than an explosion. Which was me. Alyssa had set up her ridiculous “teen tent” under the oak tree. I had my own makeshift “fort” beside her, but I wasn’t really playing. I sat on the grass, hugging my legs, staring at the scene like I was looking at it from behind a glass. Mom was flipping ribs and wiping Chloe’s sweaty forehead in between while Chloe giggled about something dumb, like how the lemonade tasted “too yellow.” Dad was standing with a group of his friends, beer in hand, pretending to be a friendly family man. He always acted extra charming when he had an audience. And among those friends was Asher Kingston—Dad’s closest friend, and one of the few adults who ever looked at me like he saw a person. He was the only adult whose stare lasted more than two seconds. I should have known better. He kept glancing over at me, brows drawn tight, like he sensed something I wasn't sensing. Maybe he did. Asher always had a way of reading people without them having to say anything. The smell of grilled meat hung thick in the air. Jackson 5 blasted from the outdoor speakers—Dad insisted on “old classics” every cookout. Then came Madonna. Then Elvis. The music made the whole atmosphere feel like an old movie. People danced barefoot in the grass, kids shrieked, someone spilled a drink, and the adults laughed. If you took a picture from far away, it would look like a perfect American family scene. Everybody was having a blast. Except me.I sat there, by myself, with my back digging into the rough fabric of Alyssa’s tent, and stared at a world I wasn’t allowed to join. No one came to check on me. No one wondered why I wasn’t with the other kids. Mom was too busy making Chloe smile, Dad was too busy pretending he hadn’t slapped me across the face that morning, and everyone else assumed I was just being shy. Or rude. But then I saw him—walking toward me, slow and casual like he wasn’t really approaching, just drifting in my direction. Uncle Jace. His long shadow fell over the grass before he even reached me. He had a beer in one hand and a lazy half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Aunt Carol stood farther away with my two-year old cousin, Lizzie, who was screaming because she wanted to eat a caterpillar. Aunt Carol was embarrassed, apologizing to everyone, but Jace didn’t even look her way. He just gravitated toward me like he always did. When he finally lowered himself onto the grass beside me, the quiet between us felt strangely heavy. “Not having a good time, kiddo?” he said, eyes fixed ahead on the crowd, voice as casual as if we were talking about the weather. I dug my fingers into the grass. “I’m having a good time, Uncle Jace,” I lied. He chuckled softly. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, Sav,” he murmured. “Lying is a sin. And liars…” He tilted his head toward me, eyes narrowing with mock seriousness. “Liars go to hell.” My stomach tightened. He had been telling me that since I was five. It always worked on me. “I’m not lying,” I whispered, but even I didn’t believe myself. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper only I could hear. “The devil’s got a really long pitchfork, you know.” My breath caught. “And you know what he does with that pitchfork?” His fingers suddenly jabbed my side. “He pinches you!” Then again. “And pinches you!” And again—tickling me until my ribs felt like glass. Despite my heavy mood, despite the pit inside my chest, I burst into uncontrollable laughter. Uncle Jace always knew how to make me laugh, even when I didn’t want to. His tickling was wild, relentless, like he needed my laughter for something—like it actually fed him.“Now they're staring at us,” he said between tickles, grinning like a maniac. I looked up, and sure enough, Asher was watching us with an expression I couldn’t decipher—confusion, surprise, something else that was gone too quickly. Something I was way too young to recognize. “Stop! Uncle Jace! Stop!” I gasped, squirming away. He didn’t stop. Not until my face was flushed and tears were leaking from my eyes. “I’ll only stop if you tell me the truth,” he demanded, hands hovering near my side like a threat. “What’s wrong, Sav?” I glanced at the grass, then at Mom who was propping Chloe on her lap, kissing her knee because Chloe had apparently complained that her boo-boo hurt while dancing. Jealousy and sadness pricked through me. And I remember looking away. “It’s nothing,” I whispered. “Sav.” His voice dropped, losing its joking tone. I swallowed hard. “Daddy hit me,” I finally breathed out. The words hung between us like the smoke from the barbecue. He inhaled sharply, jaw clenching. “Why? Did you do anything?” “No.” Tears burned behind my eyes. “Chloe tripped on my doll, and she cried. Daddy said it was my fault. He… he said not to play with her again. Or join the barbecue. Or go near her.” The grass blurred as my vision swam. Saying it out loud made it sting all over again. Like my father’s slap had reached across hours and hit me a second time. Jace muttered something under his breath—then louder, with heat in his voice, “Well, fuck him.” I gasped dramatically and slapped my hand over his mouth. “That’s a bad word! Mom said we should never use that word!” He smirked after I removed my hand. “Yeah? Well, I trust you not to tell her I said it.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and gave him a serious look. “Just don’t say it again.” “I won’t,” he said, though we both knew he would. He looked out over the yard again, watching everyone laugh and dance and pretend our world was perfect. “It’s actually pretty boring, isn’t it?” he muttered. I frowned. “No. I wish I could join them.” My voice cracked. “But Daddy’s going to get mad if I go near Chloe. And he’ll hit me again.” “How often does he hit you, Sav?” “A lot.” Something in his expression shifted. It softened, then hardened, then turned into something else entirely—an unreadable mix of anger and something that felt almost like possession. Then he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into his side. “Then I’ll stay with you,” he murmured. “And you’re not missing anything. That kind of fun is overrated.” “I don't know what that word means, Uncle Jace. But you're correct.” He laughed. “You're special, Sav. Always remember that.” I felt my chest loosen a little. Sitting with him felt better than sitting alone—even though something about his closeness always made me feel a bit strange, like he saw too much. “You want some candy?” he asked suddenly, patting his pocket. “I’ve got some.” “Yes!” I brightened immediately. He set his beer on the ground and pulled out five wrapped candies—bright red and green wrappers that shimmered in the sunlight. I snatched them eagerly, grinning. “Thank you, Uncle Jace!” I said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. It was sloppy and childish, but he froze for a moment, eyes flicking toward me with something sharp before he softened again. “Uncle Jace is the best!” He chuckled, tapping my nose lightly. “Yeah. I know.” Even now, twenty years later, I can still taste the sweetness of that candy. I can still feel the warmth of the sun on my face. And I can still see the crooked smile on Jace’s lips as he held me close. Back then, I didn’t know what any of it meant. Back then, I didn’t know what he truly was. Back then, I didn’t know who he truly was. Or that he wasn’t just my uncle. He was my father. And the man who I would grow up to discover had ruined so many lives—including Roman’s. ~~~~~ Present DayI didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until the room went dead silent. Every head turned toward me. Every breath seemed to hang suspended in the air. Even Chloe stared at me like she was hearing the name, Jace Hart, for the very first time in her life. She wasn’t—she’d known him all her life just like me—but the shock on her face told me she hadn’t expected Paula to say his name. Especially not in this way. But it wasn’t her eyes that made my skin crawl. It was Roman’s. Roman’s eyes—usually warm when they rested on me—were now wide, dark, disbelieving. Shock rippled through them. And beneath that shock… was something else. Something raw. Something painful. Something dangerously close to… hatred. His gaze hit me like a physical force, punching the air out of my lungs. I felt exposed, vulnerable, like someone had peeled my skin back to show him everything I never wanted him to see. And without meaning to, without thinking, my hands drifted protectively to my stomach—protectively over our child. Because suddenly, a terrible thought slammed into me with brutal clarity: How was expecting Roman to react after discovering that the woman he was about to marry—the woman carrying his child—was the daughter of the man who may have had a hand in his wife’s death and ruining his life? The same man he was supposed to despise. And now, that man’s blood… was in me. And in our baby. His baby.