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“Dwayde?” I lean forward, my gaze at his back. My heart in my throat. “I won’t insult you by suggesting I know what this is like for you. What I can share, though, is what it was like for me. I felt the shame of Malcolm’s abuse. I felt responsible for him hurting my mother and not being able to stop it. I felt I couldn’t be any good if I came from him.”
Dwayde shifts, tucking in his knees tighter.
“I spent my childhood and most of my adult life believing in the DNA curse. I made bad decisions because of it. I let Malcolm blackmail me. I kept it a secret from my family. Not only because I was protecting them from him. But because I was protecting myself too. I didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want them to think I wasn’t worthy of their love.
“It took a long time…too long for me to finally realize I’m not him. I’m my own person.”
“That’s you,” he says defensively. “Doesn’t mean it’s the same for me. What if I become him?”
“You won’t. That’s not who you are.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. I know it’s true because I know you, Dwayde. I see the person you are. Kind and good. You’re the kid that got Dani’s doll down out of the tree when Justin threw it there and made him apologize. You’re the kid that defended Joel when he was getting bullied at school.”
He turns over and sits up, pulling Rufus onto his lap, keeping his gaze lowered from me. “I got a black eye,” he grouches. “That sucked.”
“Sometimes heroes get banged up,” I say with pride. “Didn’t take away from what you did for Joel.”
“I just wanna be like you and Victor and Papa T.”
Aw, Christ. “You are.”
His bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t mean what I said about you hitting me and being like your father.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“I shouldn’t have said that or that I hate you. I don’t.”
“I know that too.” I get up to take a seat next to him on the futon. “I understand why you were afraid to tell us the truth. You didn’t think we could know and still want you to stay. But we do. You’re ours and we love you. Nothing could ever change that.”
“Promise?” He looks up with big, searching eyes.
“Cross my heart.” I draw an X over the left side of my chest.
Tears well up and slide down his face. I put an arm around him. He drops his head on my chest and cries big, aching sobs. I hold him while he unloads the burden of carrying that ten-ton secret, fighting back my own emotions and remembering the man who had guided me through so many difficult times in my life.
When Dwayde draws himself up, his wet cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. He wipes them away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Are Victor and Isabelle mad at me?”
“No.”
“I said shitty stuff to them too.”
“Sometimes we say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment. But it’s nothing that a hug won’t fix. A big one for Bells and she’ll be over the moon.”
“Yeah. Women like that stuff.”
“Guys don’t mind it either.” I ruffle his curls. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Uncle Mick.”
“Us good guys gotta stick together.”
That earns me a watery smile. I realize the days ahead won’t be easy. Joyce’s damage—that the Franklins set in motion—isn’t going to be undone just like that. But when we get back to the house and Dwayde rushes forward into his parents’ awaiting arms, I know it’s a damn good start.
“Mmm.” Dee breathes in withappreciation. “Smells delicious.”
She’s standing in the kitchen entryway, her curls tousled from sleep, wearing a short white robe. I imagine from the soft sway of her breasts that she’s naked beneath it. I imagine peeling it off her.
