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“There were using information they have on Nolan against him,” Danny breathes, rubbing at his forehead.
He exhales as I slowly lift my smoke back to my lips, drawing hard on it, every muscle I possess tensing. “Spit it out, Danny.”
“He didn’t share anything about us.” Danny looks me square in the eye. “And there’s a reason why he wouldn’t.”
I stare at my best friend. My cousin. “Why?”
“Because he’s your son, Brad.”
I cough, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “What?”
“Nolan’s your son.”
“That was a rhetorical question.”
“I’m not fucking with you.”
I laugh, taking my beer and swigging. “Shut the fuck up.” Nolan’s looking this way. Expressionless. And my laughter dries up. “He’s not my son.” The cool of my blood disappears. It begins to heat. He’s fucking twenty-one. He cannot be my fucking son. “Is that what he’s told you?” I return my eyes to James and Danny. “You stupid fucks.” I stand abruptly, my chair flying back, and I’m reminded as I look around the terrace that everyone is here. “What the fuck is this?” I ask, giving every single one of them a moment of my eyes. “Did you all know about this pack of lies?” I laugh, and it’s fucking demented. “You all believe this bullshit? Are you fucking stupid? He’s been found out and spewed some shit he thinks will get him off the hook, and you dumb fucks all believe him?” Wait. I breathe in, something coming to me. “How long have you kept this from me?”
“We found out last week.” Danny fidgets in his chair, uncomfortable.
“A week?” I bellow. “A fucking week?” I lose it, throwing down my bottle and smoke, stalking over to Nolan and grabbing his T-shirt, hauling him up out of his chair. I can feel him shaking in my hold. Good. He fucking should be. “You lying piece of shit,” I snarl in his face, feeling like my head could pop.
“I’m not lying, Brad.”
“Fuck you.” I shove him back down and face everyone. “Fuck you all.” I kick a chair across the room, all eyes on me, watching me lose my shit. I can’t stand the judgment. The pity. No. I stalk out, raking a hand through my hair, my vision blurry from my rage, and as soon as I’m out of sight, I roar, slamming a fist into the wall. “Fuck!”
The door to the ladies’ changing rooms opens. Pearl appears, her hand over her back pulling up the zip of her wet suit.
Smiling.
It falls when she registers the state of me.
Twenty-fucking-one.
I clench my teeth and back up, ripping my eyes away from her and turning.
Leaving.
I make a call as I go.
41
PEARL
* * *
I silently watch him walk away, wondering what the hell has happened between the ladies’ bathroom and now. I don’t know, but his expression, his persona, the way he looked at me like he hates me, tells me it’s over. I know it didn’t really start, it’s only been days, but . . .
My love.
My heart sinks. My hope sinks. What did Beau say?
I pick up my feet, determined to find out, but the moment I walk out on the veranda, I sense the unease, and when I scan the faces of everyone here, I note a solemnity I don’t like.
“I told you,” Nolan yells, his voice shaky as he tries to stand. Ella backs off, wary, withdrawing her helping hands. But Nolan’s not shouting at her. He’s shouting at Danny and James. “I fucking told you not to tell him.” He wobbles, grabbing the table for support, reaching for his crutch that’s leaning on the side of it. I watch, astounded, as no one moves in to help him. They just look on, silent. Sad.
I hurry over and help him. “I’m fine,” he snaps, startling me, abandoning his crutch and limping away, cursing constantly.
