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I sit and watch him, waiting for his color to return to normal before I press him for more information. But he surprises me and starts talking after a couple of sips. “I met her at a conference in Austin. During a small group Q&A, I mentioned I’d grown up in Winsome. She came to me after and told me she had, too. We ended talking about life here. And uh, well you know...things went too far.” He runs a hand through his hair and groans. “I shouldn’t have let you come.” His gaze loses focus and his shoulders droop as he stares unseeingly at the desk.
I’m sorry I pressed him to tell me this story because it hurts to know I’m the product of an act he’s so ashamed of he can’t even say the words. “I’m sorry I’ve managed to drag you back to your personal pit of hell, but I am sick of paying for a sin I didn’t commit.”
His face pales, and his pained eyes fill with tears. I’ve never seen my father cry and it shakes me to see it now “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” I say quickly.
He shakes his head and sorrow draws furrows around his eyes and mouth, aging him in an instant. “No, I’m the one who should say sorry. You didn’t ask for any of this. I chose this family, this life…for you. And I know it hasn’t been a bed of roses. I’ve made mistakes and miscalculations. And yes, it’s cost me a lot. But let me tell you what. It’s been worth it to see you become the man you are today, on the cusp of your reaping the fruit of your labor. If I had to do it all again, I would. Because you complete our family.” His smile is wistful. “I’ve let you think I went to Penn and told her the truth, gave her a choice about whether I’d go get you. But that’s not true. I didn't tell Penn anything. I went down to Texas with my checkbook and my excuses ready. I didn't plan to bring you back."
I don’t know how to feel about that, except surprised. “What changed your mind?”
“I met you. And fell in love with you the instant our eyes met. You are my son. Doing the right thing wasn’t easy. But it was a lot easier than leaving you behind. So, I brought you home without telling Penn what I was doing. I knew once she met you, no matter how angry she was at me, she’d find a way to forgive me so she could be your mom. I will always do what I think is best for this family. And I’ll
never apologize for it. Even when it hurts.” His eyes and jaw tighten with resolve. “You can’t have anything to do with anyone with the last name Wolfe. They’re liars, frauds, thieves, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were murderers, too. She’s his daughter, raised by him. She’s as toxic and twisted as he is.”
My mind rejects his words outright. Beth couldn’t, wouldn’t harm anyone. But my heart, more vulnerable than it’s ever been, is pounding. I have to clear my suddenly dry throat to answer him. “If he’s her father, she must be estranged from him. She’s talked about her brother and her aunt. She’s never mentioned that part of her family. Maybe she’s using Mortimer instead because she’s turned her back on them. She’s a college student in Austin and an artist. Not part of some evil family syndicate. And I still don't understand what they've done.”
He expels a harsh, weary breath and shoves his phone across the desk. “Look.”
I stare at it and shoot him a dubious glance. “What is it?”
“Just look.”
I turn it over and scan the screen. It’s a Facebook profile for Bethany Wolfe. I scroll down her timeline, my heart collapsing in on itself with each picture I see.
Her dark hair is shoulder length and curled into loose waves. She’s wearing make-up that covers her birthmark so well that it takes me a minute to notice it’s not there. I don’t see a trace of the wild enchantress who captivated me this summer. She couldn’t look less like herself than she does in these pictures. But that mouth, that body, make it impossible to deny the girl in the photos is the same girl I’ve spent the summer with.
“Type Duke Tremaine into the search bar for the app and have a look at his profile.”
I do it with wooden fingers and dread the likes of which I've never known. His profile picture knocks the air from my lungs. It was posted three months ago, mere days before I met her. The post reads, She’s mine, fellas. Look but don’t touch.
He’s wearing the smuggest grin I’ve ever seen. It’s a cropped view of a man sitting on wooden chair with a woman on his lap. He’s resting his face on her chest, leaving just enough of her visible to make it obvious she’s naked from the waist up. A lock of her dark hair is draped over his shoulder. The picture cuts off her face, and all that’s visible is a sliver of her chin resting on top of his head. His arms are wrapped around her in an unmistakable display of possession.
I don’t need to see her face or read the names tagged to the photo to know it’s her. I’d know that body anywhere. I drop the phone and stare at it in stunned silence. I can’t think for the howling in my head. How can I have been so stupid?
“Carter.” My father’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I realize he’s moved to stand beside me.
“She doesn’t use social media.” I sound like an idiot, but I can’t believe she lied.
“I know it’s hard to accept. But seeing this makes it impossible to deny it. I don’t know what her game is, but you need to nip this in the bud. You’ve got a lot to lose. And so do the rest of us.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his chest, a thin sheen of sweat coats his normally unflappable brow.
“But, why would she do that?” I ask, handing his phone back.
He stares at the screen, a scowl pulling at his mouth. “This can’t be a coincidence. And it’s certainly not whatever she tried to paint it as. I mean, look”—he holds the phone up to me again—“she’s clearly got someone else. You didn’t take videos or pictures together, did you?”
“No.” We were too busy living the moments and we didn't take a single picture all summer.
“Good. Well, if she levels any accusations of sexual assault at least she won’t be able to place you with her.”
“Dad!” I stand up, horrified by the wild swing in his conjecture.
“You can’t put anything past these people. I’m just glad you found out before you got too close to her.”
I stifle a laugh and drop my head into my hands and force myself to take deep breaths.
“I know it sucks, but when you get to LA next week - when you’re not in the studio, you’ll be doing press. Hell, you’re on the Late Show in one week. She’ll be a bump in the road you’ll barely remember.”
I can’t make sense of anything right now, much less think that far ahead. My head is throbbing. “I’m going to get some sleep.” I stumble from the room, my vision blurred by unshed tears.
I wish I could unsee those pictures. I wish I’d asked her more questions. I was so desperate for the acceptance she gave me, I let my guard down. I cringe when I think of all the things I told her. All the nights we stayed up talking until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. How wide-eyed she’d been when I told her who my family was. The questions she asked no one had ever asked me before. I let myself think I’d found the kind of love I didn’t even know I needed.
