I hear him whisper something and then I hear Max laugh. I smile even though I have no idea what they’re talking about. “Okay. See you soon, honey,” his rich voice booms, right before the line goes dead.
When I pull in front of the house, the first thing I notice is Tyson sitting on the front step. He stands as I pull into the driveway and park my car next to his. He has a key to the house, so why is he sitting outside? Walking to the car, he opens the door and reaches out to help me with my bag and lunchbox.
“Thanks,” I offer, pecking his cheek. He doesn’t respond and a shiver runs through my body at the cold vibe he’s putting off. “Why didn’t you wait inside?” I ask, trying to ease the tension that I feel creeping in around me.
He shrugs once and offers me nothing more than ‘I didn’t feel like it.’ Pushing through the front door, he sets the bag down and then immediately turns to me.
“We need to talk,” he says, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Oh God, here it is. He’s finally decided this is too much. He spent the day with Max and decided a ready-made family just isn’t for him. My hands tremble and I feel tears burn my throat, but somehow I manage to make it to the couch.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?” I hate that my voice is timid and shaky, but I’m scared to death of what’s going to come out of his mouth. I mean, I sort of always expected that this was too good to be true, but now the thought of being without Tyson makes me want to throw up.
“You told Max his dad’s name is Dallas,” he blurts, his eyes boring into mine. Okay. That is not at all what I was expecting, and I’m sure as hell not prepared to have this conversation with him. My defenses rise and like usual, when I’m nervous I turn stupid, my words coming out a jumbled mess.
“I…uh…I, um…” I close my eyes and swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. When I open them once again, I find that Tyson’s lips are in a flat line and his face is devoid of any emotion.
“You what, Harley?” he says suspiciously, raising his voice. The strong arms that I spent last night wrapped up in and are now splayed out at his side, and I ache to be tucked between them again.
“Just give me a second,” I yell, standing up to nervously pace the living room. Annoyance runs thick through my veins, but it’s more at myself than at him. I knew that I’d have to answer this question at some point, and I should have just been up front with Ty from the beginning. But how in the hell do you tell the man you’re in love with—the man you want to spend the rest of your life with—that his brother is the one who raped you? How do you tell him that your son, the little boy he’s madly in love with, is really his nephew?
My silence must be mistaken for deceit because Tyson growls deep in his throat and steps toward me. It’s not an aggressive move but it startles me, and when I take a step back I stumble over the coffee table. Surprisingly, his eyes aren’t full of anger, which is what I expect to see. Instead, they are wide with pain.
“How could you do this, Harley?” His jaw is clenched, brows dipped low. His eyes gloss over and my stomach twists at the pain I’m about to cause him.
I reach for him but he steps back, preventing me from touching him. “I didn’t mean for you to—”
“You didn’t mean to what?” he roars, fisting his hands in his hair. “You didn’t mean to fuck my brother?” My mouth drops open in shock. “You didn’t mean to forget to tell me, or you didn’t mean to lie to me about what happened to you?” And that’s all it takes. His discredit of what I told him happened that night makes my blood boil with rage and my body instantly tenses.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I hurl at him. My heart is pounding wildly against my ribs and adrenaline is coursing through my veins so profusely that my body is shaking. “You think I fucked your brother, had a kid, and then lied to you about who the father is? You think I fucking lied to you about what happened that night? What kind of person do you think I am?” I sneer.
“I don’t know what to fucking think because you haven’t told me a goddamn thing! You told me you didn’t know who Max’s father was, and now I found out it may or may not be Dallas. What the fuck, Harley?” he yells, the vein on the side of his neck popping out. I hate that I’m causing him so much turmoil. I hate that the strong, gentle man I’m madly in love with is full of so much anger right now—and it’s completely my fault.
“What do you want to know, Ty?” I shout, instantly regretting the words that are already falling from my mouth. “Do you want to know that your brother raped me?” His eyes widen in shock, but for some reason I can’t seem to shut my damn mouth. “Do you want to know that he yanked me by my hair and shoved my face into the ground so hard when he fucking raped me that I had rocks embedded in my GODDAMN CHEEK?” Hot tears are coursing down my face and my throat burns from screaming.
Ty’s cold eyes are watching me with equal parts anger and disbelief. His nostrils are flared, hands fisted tightly at his side, and his eyes are shooting daggers in my direction. For some reason, that makes me want to piss him off even more.
“Do you want to know that while he was ripping my panties off, I was begging him to stop?” I seethe. My words are meant to hurt him and when he jerks back, I know I hit my mark. He swallows hard, slowly shaking his head in apparent denial. “Do you want to know that I was praying for you to come back—”
“STOP!” he bellows, the deep timber of his voice causing the mirror on the wall to shake. My mouth snaps closed, my chest heaving uncontrollably and my head throbbing from crying. We stare at each other for several seconds as our relationship and all of the trust we’ve built teeters precariously on the brink of disaster.
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. I can’t believe I said all of that to him. My eyes drop in shame and I notice his hands trembling at his sides. When he speaks, his tone is controlled, and it sends a tingle of dread shooting through me. “I…” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe this.”
Pain flashes across his face and tears pool in his eyes, but he holds them back. “Dallas was a good person. He wouldn’t do this, I know he wouldn’t.” I’m not sure he’s talking to me, because his eyes are staring a hole through the floor. I grip my chest tightly at his words because my heart just fucking splintered in two, and I double over in pure agony. He doesn’t believe me.
His shoulders hunch and I watch the rage drain from his body. Ironically, as his anger fades, mine is building with each passing second. For a brief moment, I consider the fact that maybe he needs a minute to come to grips with what I threw at him. Then I remember the words that just fell from his mouth, and that moment quickly passes. He wouldn’t do this, I know he wouldn’t.
His confused gaze finds mine and he takes a hesitant step forward. ?
?Are you sure, Harley?” he asks, his eyes desperately searching my face for any sign of hope. “Maybe... maybe it was a misunderstanding. You had been drinking, so maybe things didn’t happen the way you—”
“Get out.” My words are eerily calm as I walk to the front door and yank it open. He dismisses me, instantly shaking his head as he steps further into the room.
“No, I’m not leaving. We need to talk about this,” he says urgently, and I laugh humorlessly at how easily he was able to shift from anger to desperation. His eyes plead with mine as he reaches out, touching my arm. I jerk away from the warm hand that I’m certain could bring me loads of comfort if I wasn’t so fucking pissed off.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Get out.” I gesture wildly at the open door, and his mouth flies open at my refusal to discuss this further. I avoid all eye contact because I know that if I do, I’ll lose every ounce of resolve I have left.
“No…no!” he says, frantically shaking his head. “Give me a second to process this, it’s all just too m—”
“What is there to process?” I snap. “You either believe me or you don’t.”