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There’s a slight shine to his eyes—hell, mine too—but we both shake it off.
“Come here,” I say, arms open wide.
He lets me pull him in for a hug and I hold on to him probably longer than necessary, but it still feels like too little too late.
The uncertain smile he gives me when he pulls away threatens to break my damn heart.
He steps out of the war room first. I need a minute to take a breath. No, what I need is my wife.
In the living room, Wrath, Trinity, and Heidi are keeping Hope company.
I clear my throat and try to shake off the unbearable weight of what I just learned.
“You’re not telling her more horror stories about labor, are you, Heidi?” I ask, forcing my mouth into a smile.
Her eyes widen. “Not me, Uncle Rock.” She flashes a quick grin, similar to her brother’s, so I guess that comes from their mother.
I draw her closer with an arm around her shoulders. “How you doin’, kid? Feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“School’s crazy. And I’m running to the studio after work most days.”
“Still going to graduate in the spring?”
Her mouth turns down. “I’m not sure. I have to do another internship. So they might let me walk, but I won’t get my diploma until the end of the summer.”
“That sucks,” Teller says. “Are you serious? With the money they’re squeezing out of you for tuition, they can’t find you an internship sooner?”
“It’s okay. I can’t really take on much more right now anyway, but I’m still talking it out with my advisor.”
“You need something, let me know,” I say before ruffling her hair and joining my wife. She takes my hand and stares into my eyes for a few seconds, asking without words if everything’s okay. I give her a subtle nod, and then my gaze lands on Wrath, who’s watching us without the usual smirk.
His gaze darts to Teller, then back to me, and he lifts his chin slightly. Wrath’s always had an uncanny ability to read me and piece things together fast. I don’t doubt he already suspects. Shit, he’s the one who started calling Teller my “mini-me” years ago.
Maybe he’s smarter than any of us give him credit for.
Chapter Thirteen
Rock
At the clubhouse, in front of everyone else, I couldn’t afford to show any emotion other than elation that the case with Inga is, for all intents and purposes, over.
In front of Teller, I wanted to remain calm and in control. He’s had his whole life, his history, his past, who he is, turned inside out. Both of us have. But I won’t be responsible for causing him any more harm than I already have.
Once I’m home, though, I fucking lose it.
“Rock. It’s okay. Calm down,” Hope says, holding out her hands like she’s trying to tame a wild animal. That’s exactly how I feel, feral. Out of control. Breathing fire with nowhere and no one to direct my fury.
Who can I be angry with? Who’s to blame?
Marcel’s mother? She was a fucking teenager herself. If she knew, I want to believe she did what she thought was in the best interest of her child. Marrying someone she thought would provide a better life for him than a twelve-year-old man-child. Can’t really blame her there.
Inga? I should thank the bitch. Without her conniving, manipulative bullshit, I might have continued living in ignorance for the rest of my life, never knowing Marcel was my flesh and blood.
My father? For leaving me for hours, sometimes days at a time in the care of a teenage girl who was as lonely and messed up as I was? For being amused when he found us in bed together. For acting like a pal and congratulating me instead of being a father? Since he’s dead, blaming him seems pointless.
Hope? For telling us the truth? She could have lied and hidden this to spare us the pain.
“This isn’t your fault, Rock,” she insists as if she knew where my next thoughts were headed.
“Isn’t it?” I run my fingers through my hair, ready to tear it out. “You have any idea the things I’ve asked him to do over the years?”
She flinches because I think deep down, she understands I’m talking about more than drunken parties, drug-fueled orgies, and club whores. As much as she always says she understands the things I’ve done, I don’t think she enjoys being reminded of the blood on my hands.
“He’s a brother. You’re his president. You’re both loyal to the club, Rock.” Her calm, rational tone pushes me in the opposite direction. “You’ve both done what needed to be done to protect the club. To protect your family.”
“The things he’s witnessed because of me? You don’t understand the danger I’ve put him in over the years.” I’ve asked Teller to commit murder. More than once. Shown him how to properly dispose of a body to leave no evidence behind.
Not exactly father-son bonding activities.
She shakes her head. “I can’t imagine.” She twists her hands and looks away. “I won’t lie and say I understand everything about what the club’s involved in or its history. Teller and Murphy have both joked about their childhoods, have tried to diminish what they went through because they want to be strong men who aren’t dragged down by their pasts.”
She takes a deep breath and steps closer, staring me down. “But the reality is, they were children who’d basically been abandoned, were they not?” she challenges.
I meet her eyes. My jaw clenches tighter.
“It was the same for you, wasn’t it?” she says in a gentler tone. “Your father wasn’t there for you when he should’ve been? Grinder was the one who took you under his wing? Mentored you?”
“Brought me into the club,” I rasp.
“Where you found a family of sorts?”
“Fuck!” I can’t listen to any more. Or relive things I’d rather forget. I don’t want to be in the house, with the walls caging me in any longer.
“Rock, stop.” Hope reaches for me. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known this would’ve been the outcome…”
What? She would’ve advised me not to take the test? Scheduled Teller and I on different days? Stopped the lab from fucking up?
All of this happened for a reason.
Would I even want to continue living my life in ignorance? Never knowing the truth?
Is that why I’m so damn rattled?
Hope’s tenacious, following me to the front door. I should slow down; she’s not in a condition to chase after me. I stop in my tracks and turn so abruptly, she crashes against my chest. Automatically, I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight. Expressing with my body the things I can’t say.
How grateful I am to have her. How much I love her for accepting this so easily when I can barely digest the news myself.
For not looking at me any differently.
For embracing Teller even more than she already has.
I cup her cheeks and lean down for a kiss. “Thank you,” I say against her lips. I squeeze my eyes tight, inhaling her, allowing her calm to seep into my bones.
“I love you. I love you so much.” Her voice breaks, almost breaking me. “No matter what.”
Hope
Against my body, Rock’s heart races. I want to snuggle up against him, wrap him up in my love until the anger with himself dissolves.
Except there’s like two feet of belly in my way. Still, I cling to him, unwilling to let go yet.
A sharp cramp steals my breath, and I hunch over, slipping out of his embrace. “Oh.”
Rock’s instantly alarmed. “Hope? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a cramp.” It’s more of a tightening sensation. Slightly different from anything else I’ve ever felt. “Ow.”
“Come here. Sit down.” He guides me over to the couch and kneels in front of me. “Better?”
“I think so.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, it happens again.
Fear digs its claws into my heart. What if something is genuinely wrong with Grace?
“Shit.” Rock run
s his hands through his hair. His gaze darts around the room. He’s a man of action, and he’s clearly trying to decide what to do next. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you so upset.”
“I’m not upset. This has nothing to do with that.” I’m not entirely sure that’s true, but I’m not giving Rock another thing to feel guilty over. “It’s probably the false labor pains we read about.”
“It’s too early for that.”
“Not necessarily.”
We both whip out our phones, googling false labor to see who’s right.
We both come up with conflicting answers.
Rock gently eases my phone out of my hand. “I want to run you to the hospital.”
“No way. I haven’t had one in a while now.” As the words come out of my mouth, my body betrays me. The tightening sensation washes over me again. Except this time, it’s more than unusual or uncomfortable. It fucking hurts. A lot.
“That’s it.” He glances at the door. “Fuck. I knew not extending the driveway out here sooner was going to be an issue.”
“I can walk. Maybe it will help.” I hold out my hands, and he pulls me up.
Outside, I concentrate on taking long, deep breaths as we slowly navigate the path toward the clubhouse.
Teller meets us in the garage. “Hey, I was just going to stop by and—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say at the same time Rock explains we’re going to the hospital.
Teller’s eyes widen, and I know right where his mind went. Damn it, he really is like Rock. “It’s nothing, Teller. Rock’s just being overprotective.”
I grit my teeth as the pain comes again, not fooling either of them.
“Here, let me help you guys.” Teller looks toward his bike. “Do you want me to go get my truck? It has the steps that lower, so it’s easier for her.”
