Chapter 13: The Confession of a Lifetime
The fluorescent light in the interrogation room buzzed like an angry insect. Bernice sat perfectly composed, her manicured hands folded on the cold metal table. “I have something to say about the girls’ parentage,” she stated, her voice devoid of warmth. Bear, standing against the wall with Brody, went still as stone.
“Their father was nobody,” she continued, a faint, cruel smile touching her lips. “A ranch hand I hired one summer.” Her gaze lifted, deliberately finding Bear’s piercing blue eyes across the room. “He had your eyes, Jake. The exact same shade. I bought three babies from a surrogate just to have that color looking back at me from children I could control.”
Rose’s real father was a ranch hand with Bear’s eyes. The eyes that Rose loves and gets lost in. Rose has her father’s eyes, except they are the color of her birth mother’s. He is all three girls’ birth father. Bernice had bought all three babies with the eyes of a man she hated because of his gorgeous eyes. A successful businessman now who had publicly yearned for a family. A family he didn’t know he already had. Daughters he could have watched grow into strong women.
The room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Bear moved. He was across the space in two strides, his hands slamming down on the table, causing Bernice to flinch. “You tell me everything,” he growled, the words vibrating with a violence that made Brody step forward. “His name. Where he is. Now.”
Brody’s hand clamped down on Bear’s shoulder, a firm anchor. “Bear.” Bernice didn’t lean back, her composure a brittle shell. “His name is Silas Grant,” she said, the name dropping into the static-filled room. “He owns that sustainable cattle operation outside Billings, the one in all the magazines.” A muscle in Bear’s jaw ticked wildly, his knuckles white against the steel.
“You sold my wife,” he snarled, the words choked. “You sold all of them.” Bernice smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her sleeve. “I provided a solution for a man who wanted a legacy and children who needed a certain…pedigree.” She looked almost bored. “The surrogate was already pregnant with the twins when I finalized the arrangement with David.”
Bear’s control snapped. He lunged, a feral sound tearing from his throat, but Brody threw his weight into hauling him back. “Don’t,” Brody gritted out, wrapping Bear in a bear hug. “She’s not worth it.” Bernice watched the struggle, a faint, clinical interest in her gaze. “He never knew,” she added, as if discussing the weather. “The paperwork was very thorough.”
Bear’s chest heaved against Brody’s restraining arm, the fluorescents bleaching the fury from his face. “How?” he demanded, the single word scraping his throat raw. “How do you have three girls genetically related to a man who didn’t know?”
A triumphant, ghastly gleam flickered in Bernice’s eyes. “The same surrogate donated her own eggs,” she explained, her tone chillingly procedural. “I used the contents of a condom from my evening with Silas.” Brody’s grip on Bear faltered for a second, a stunned exhalation hitting the sterile air.
“A fertility specialist friend handled the rest, for a significant fee,” Bernice continued, inspecting a perfect nail. “Two implantations. The second just happened to result in twins.” Maggie and Lily. Their origin was a transaction in a petri dish, a calculated theft. Bear’s vision tunneled, the hum of the lights drowning beneath a roaring in his ears.
The taste of copper flooded his mouth where he’d bitten his cheek. He forced air into his lungs, a ragged pull that scraped like gravel. "You are a fucking monster."
"She’s my wife," Bear said, the words low and shattered. "You made her a product line." Bernice’s mask slipped for a microsecond, revealing nothing but cold void. "I made her successful. I made all of them desirable."
Brody’s hold was the only thing keeping Bear’s fists from rewriting her face. "That's enough," Brody stated, his sheriff's voice cutting through the ugliness. "Interview's over." He began physically steering Bear toward the door.
Bear shook him off just before the threshold, turning back. "He deserves to know them." Bernice laughed, a dry, papery sound. "And ruin the pristine narrative of his self-made empire? He won't thank you."
"Fuck you," Bear spat. He walked out, the hallway lights streaking in his peripheral vision. The heavy door sighed shut behind him, muffling her world.
He braced his hands against the cinderblock wall, head bowed. Rose’s green eyes, Maggie’s laugh, Lily’s sharp wit—they were all miracles, not transactions. His rage cooled into a hard, clear purpose.
He pushed off the wall and found Brody waiting. "We’re telling Rose everything," Bear said, his voice quiet now, final. "And then I’m finding Silas Grant."
He found Brody on the phone outside the station, the afternoon sun glaring off the patrol car. "I've got a contact who knows Grant's personal number," Brody said, covering the receiver. Bear's pulse hammered at his temples, a frantic drumbeat demanding immediate action.
"Give me the number." Brody shook his head. "We do this right. Let me feel him out first." A sudden, protective instinct, sharper than rage, cut through Bear. Rose couldn't hear this from a stranger.
"She's at the shop with Maggie, Lily, Liam, and Chloe," Bear said, already moving toward his truck. "You call him, Brody. But tell him to give it an hour." He needed to see her face, to hold her hands while the world she knew cracked open.
"An hour?" Brody asked, his deputy already relaying the request into the phone. Bear yanked the driver's door open. "So I can get there first," he said, the engine roaring to life.
The drive was a blur of asphalt and grazing land. He parked crooked outside Petal & Suds, the bell jangling violently as he entered. The cozy space was full—Liam wrapping a gift basket, Chloe at the register, and his wife laughing with her sisters by the scent bar.
The laughter died when they saw his face. "Bear?" Rose asked, her smile fading. He walked to her, the herbs and flowers suddenly cloying. He took her hands, their warmth a stark contrast to the coldness he carried.
"Brody's making a call." He searched her green eyes, the eyes she got from a man she’d never met. "We need to sit down." Maggie and Lily closed in, a protective flank. Liam quietly locked the shop door, flipping the sign to 'Closed'.
The clean scents of jasmine and sandalwood now felt suffocating. "Brody just got off the phone with Silas Grant," Bear said, his voice rough. He kept hold of Rose’s hands, his thumbs pressing into her palms.
Maggie stepped closer. "Who the hell is Silas Grant?" Bear’s gaze never left Rose’s face. "Your biological father."
The word father landed in the quiet shop like a stone dropped in water. Rose’s fingers went slack in his. "Bernice..." she started, but the sentence had nowhere to go.
Bear told them. He told them about the ranch hand, the eyes, the transaction. He explained the condom, the surrogate, the purchased pregnancy. Lily made a small, wounded sound, her hand flying to her mouth. Chloe, behind the counter, had gone perfectly still.
"Her eggs," Maggie whispered, her face pale. "So we’re... we’re actually sisters." The biological truth she’d always taken for granted twisted into something else, something colder and yet more real. Rose looked from Maggie’s stunned eyes to Lily’s tear-filled ones.
"And he never knew?" Rose asked, her voice barely there. Bear shook his head, his jaw a hard line. "He’s waiting for my call," he said. "He wants to meet you."
Rose placed a protective hand over her belly, over the twins whose existence was pure, wanted love. "I need to sit," she said, the words hollow. Bear guided her to the stool behind the scent bar, its familiar solidity a small anchor.
Bear guided her to the stool behind the scent bar, its familiar solidity a small anchor. Rose’s hands trembled against the polished wood, her fingers tracing the groove where she’d once spilled a vial of patchouli. The memory felt lifetimes away.
"A ranch hand," Maggie said, her voice flat, as if testing the words for weight. She leaned against the display of sea salt scrubs, her tattoos stark under the shop lights. Lily wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, smudging her mascara.
"So we were a business deal from the start." Bear’s phone vibrated on the counter, a harsh buzz that made everyone flinch. He didn’t reach for it.
"That’s Brody," he said, his eyes locked on Rose. "Grant’s on standby." The twins kicked, a sudden, insistent pressure that pulled Rose back into her body.
She covered her belly, feeling the life she’d chosen, not the one she’d been sold into. "What do you want to do, Rosie?" Bear asked, his voice low, leaving the decision entirely hers. Liam quietly moved from the gift baskets to the front door, flipping the deadbolt with a soft click.
"Privacy," he murmured, offering a small, reassuring nod. Rose looked at her sisters—Maggie’s fierce glare, Lily’s vulnerable eyes—and saw the same fractured history reflected back. "I want to hear his voice," she said, the words surprising her with their certainty.
Bear picked up the phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. "Okay." He put it on speaker, the dial tone echoing in the silent shop.
Each ring felt like a lifetime, the scent of lavender and lemon verbena suddenly overpowering. A man’s voice answered, deep and wary. "Jake Cooper?"
"Yeah," Bear said. "I’ve got Rose, Maggie, and Lily here." Silas Grant’s breath hitched audibly through the speaker. "Tell me what you need."
Silas Grant’s voice, a rich baritone frayed with static, filled the quiet shop. “I didn’t know.” The raw ache in those three words silenced the hum of the freezer case. Rose’s knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the scent bar.
“Bernice told us everything,” Rose said, her own voice steadier than she felt. Maggie leaned into the phone, her tone a blade. “The condom. The surrogate. The price tag.”
A long, shattered exhale came through the speaker. “My God.” Lily spoke next, her words soft and cracked open. “She said she bought us because you have pretty eyes.” In the following silence, they could almost hear the man’s world rearranging itself.
“I want to see you,” Silas said, the request stripped bare. “If you’ll allow it.” Rose looked at her sisters, seeing her own tangled fear and longing mirrored there. This was a man who’d been stolen from just as surely as they had.
“Not at the ranch,” Maggie stated, her protective instinct flaring. “Neutral ground.” Rose’s gaze swept the shop, her sanctuary of polished wood and simmering oils. It was the place where she had rebuilt herself.
It was the place where she had rebuilt herself, where every scent and surface spoke of choice, not inheritance. “Here,” Rose said, the word firming as she spoke it. “We meet him here.”
Bear’s watchful gaze held hers for a long second before he gave a single, slow nod. He lifted the phone again. “You know Petal & Suds on Main?” The scent of melting beeswax and dried lavender hung in the quiet.
“I’ll find it,” Silas’s voice came through, urgent now. On the counter, Rose’s hand found Maggie’s, their fingers lacing together tightly. Lily moved closer, completing the circle.
“We decide the terms,” Maggie said into the air, her declaration for all of them. A powerful, rolling kick pressed against Rose’s ribs, a surge of life amid the emotional upheaval. She took a sharp breath, her other hand cradling the spot.
“You okay?” Bear was instantly beside her, his large hand covering hers on her belly. She nodded, leaning into his solidity. “They’re just agreeing.”
She looked at her sisters, at this shop she’d built from panic and courage. “No lawyers. No preconditions.” Liam, from his post by the door, gave a soft whistle. “Setting the bar high, boss.”
“Just a conversation,” Rose affirmed, her voice gaining strength. Bear relayed it into the phone. “Just talk.”
“Understood,” Silas replied, the word thick with emotion. There was a rustle, like him grabbing a jacket. “I’m leaving now.”
A beat of silence held them all. “It’s a two-hour drive from Billings,” Bear said, his practical rancher’s mind calculating. The line crackled slightly with motion.
“I’m already in Bozeman,” Silas said, the surprise rippling through the quiet shop. He was already here. “At the hotel near the museum.”
Rose’s grip on Maggie’s hand tightened. Bear’s blue eyes, the mirror of this stranger’s, narrowed. “Why?”
“I’ve been coming for months,” Silas admitted, the confession raw and startling. “Just to be near… I didn’t know why.” He let out a shaky breath. “Now I do.”
Bear’s jaw worked. He looked at Rose, at her sisters, leaving the decision entirely in their court. Rose met his gaze, then looked at Maggie and Lily, seeing their stunned permission.
“Okay,” Rose said into the waiting silence. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Okay.”
Silas’s relief was a tangible force through the speaker. “Thank you.” There was the sound of a door opening, then the brisk Montana wind.
The line went dead. The shop held its breath, thick with the cloying sweetness of ylang-ylang and unresolved history. “He’s been here,” Maggie whispered, her voice a mix of awe and violation.
Liam finally moved from the door, his shoes whispering on the hardwood. “I’ll put the kettle on.” The mundane act was a lifeline. Bear’s attention, however, remained wholly on Rose, his expression unreadable.
A cold dread, separate from the shock about Silas, seeped into Rose’s bones. She watched Bear’s face, searching for any shift, any flicker of reassessment now that her origin was a calculated theft. What if he saw Bernice’s transaction, not her?
“Your damn dimples, and those eyes, they still destroy me,” she said, the words rushing out, a plea wrapped in a truth. He blinked, his stern expression softening into baffled warmth.
He cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Rosie, look at me.” His blue eyes, the twins’ eyes, held only fierce, unshakable possession. “You think a piece of paper or a fucking condom changes who you are to me?”
She leaned into his palm, the fear dissolving under his touch. “It changes where I come from.”
“It explains a wound,” he corrected gently, his forehead touching hers. “It doesn’t define the woman who survived it.” The shop bell chimed, its cheerful sound slicing through the moment.
The door opened.
Cold air rushed in, carrying the scent of distant rain and a man who stood frozen on the threshold. His eyes were the first thing Rose saw—Bear’s clear, piercing blue, etched with lines of shock and a grief so deep it stole her breath. Silas Grant’s gaze swept across them, a desperate inventory, catching on the prominent swell of Rose’s abdomen, then darting to Maggie’s smaller bump.
It snapped to their left hands, to the rings on Maggie’s and Lily’s fingers, then back to Rose’s wedding band. His face, weathered and kind, crumpled for a single, unguarded second. “Oh,” he breathed, the sound barely audible.
The word held continents of loss and missed firsts. He had just found three daughters. Two were carrying the next generation. Engagements and a marriage had happened without him. Liam quietly placed a steaming mug of tea on the counter, the ceramic click loud in the stillness.
“You’d better come in,” Bear said, his voice a low rumble that wasn’t quite a welcome but wasn’t a blockade either. Silas stepped forward, the door swinging shut behind him, sealing them all inside the fragrant, tense room. He looked directly at Rose, then Maggie, then Lily, as if memorizing their faces.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, the apology raw and immediate. “For all of it.” Rose’s hand tightened on Bear’s arm, not for support, but to ground herself in the present, in the love she had chosen. This man wasn’t a ghost.
He was real, and his pain was a living thing in the shop.
The shop’s usual fragrance of lavender and lemongrass couldn’t mask the new, acrid scent of shock. “Sorry doesn’t really cover a whole childhood, does it?” Maggie finally said, her voice brittle. She crossed her arms over her baby bump, a protective barrier.
Silas flinched, accepting the blow. “No,” he agreed, his own hands flexing at his sides. “It doesn’t.”
“Why were you really in Bozeman?” Lily asked, her question a soft probe into the wound. Silas’s gaze, so unnervingly familiar, drifted to the window display of soaps shaped like mountain wildflowers. “I felt pulled here,” he said, the explanation sounding inadequate even to him. “After my divorce, the ranch felt… empty.”
Rose watched him, her therapist’s mind separating the man from the monster Bernice had sketched. His pain wasn’t performative; it was in the slight tremor of his weathered hands. Bear remained a silent sentinel at her back, his presence a steady pressure against her spine.
“We have questions,” Rose stated, her voice finding its practical tone. “Lots of them.” Silas nodded, a desperate hope flashing in those blue eyes. “I’ll answer anything.”
Chloe, from behind the register, softly suggested, “Maybe you should all sit down?” The normalcy of the idea was jarring. Liam was already dragging the chairs from the back workshop, their legs scraping against the hardwood floor.
The sound was unbearably loud.
The scraping stopped, leaving a fragile quiet. “Did you know her?” Rose asked, the first question she needed answered. “Bernice.”
Silas ran a hand through his greying hair. “For about a week, thirty-two years ago.” He lowered himself into a chair, its wicker creaking. “My crew was fencing her father’s north pasture.”
Maggie perched on a stool, her boots hooked on the rungs. “And?” Her single word was a challenge. Silas looked at the floor, then at their faces.
“She was bored, rich, and determined.” His shoulders slumped. “It was a transaction for her even then.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “I just didn't know the price.”
“Did you ever look for us?” Lily’s voice was small. Silas met her gaze, his eyes glistening. “I thought she was on birth control.”
Rose’s own child moved inside her, a firm kick. “She said she chose you for our eyes,” Rose said, the clinical nature of it chilling. Silas nodded, a slow, pained dip of his chin.
“Yours are different,” he observed softly, his gaze lingering on her green irises. “Your mother’s.” Her birth mother, the anonymous donor. A piece of her that wasn't bought. A part wholly, solely hers. The tightness in Rose’s chest loosened a fraction.
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t have come looking?” Maggie pressed, not letting him off the hook. Silas didn’t flinch.
“I’m saying I never knew there was anything to find.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the picture of a weary rancher. “Until Jake’s call an hour ago, my biggest regret was that my marriage didn’t make a family.”
He looked at each of them, his expression awed and shattered. “I had one all along.” The twins shifted again, a rolling wave beneath Rose’s skin. She placed a hand where a heel or elbow pressed out, a secret signal to the life inside.
Bear’s hand covered hers, his warmth seeping through her shirt.