Charlotte
The rumbleof Marcel’s bike echoing down our driveway draws me out of the house and onto the front porch. As soon as he parks, I rush down the stairs to meet him.
“Happy not-the-father day—” The silly greeting dies in my throat. A heavy cloud of despair seems to surround Marcel. Fear thrums through my veins. “What’s wrong?”
He drops his head for a second, then turns and faces me. “Let’s go inside.”
My stomach cramps with apprehension. He said the test cleared him. None of the Lost Kings fathered that woman’s kid. “What—”
He curls his cold fingers around mine. “Please. I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.” I rub my palms over his hands in an effort to warm his skin. His lips pull into a half smile.
“I’m fine, Sunshine.”
Dreading whatever he has to tell me, I follow him into the house. He stops in the kitchen and flips the faucet on, pouring a glass of water and drinking it in a few quick swallows.
A thousand questions scream through my brain but somehow, I remain calm on the outside, waiting patiently.
He sets the glass on the counter with a soft clink and jerks his chin toward our kitchen table.
My hard wooden chair scrapes against the tile as I pull it out and slide onto its unforgiving seat. “You’re scaring me, Marcel.”
“Sorry.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “I’m a bit rattled.”
“I can see that. Talk to me.”
Instead of sitting at the table, he curls his fingers over the back of his chair and leans on it like a crutch. “I don’t even know where to start. It’s so absurd.”
Marcel’s stood by my side through some of my darkest moments. There is nothing we can’t handle together. “I’m right here,” I say.
Finally, he turns his troubled teal eyes my way. Someone or something hurt him. My inner demon prepares to come out swinging. To decimate whoever caused the man I love an ounce of pain.
“Rock is my father.”
Individually, I know what all those words mean. Lined up in that order, they don’t make any sense. “Says who?”
“The lab. Well, Hope read the lab results to us.”
“How is that even possible?”
His lips quirk again. “That’s what I said.”
“No, Marcel. Seriously, how is that even possible? He’s not…old enough to be your father.” Is he?
“Well, apparently all those jokes Grinder used to make about Rock trying to romance every fucking woman he met as a kid were based in truth.” A hint of anger seeps into Marcel’s voice as he recounts the bits and pieces he learned from Rock.
“Whoa.” When he finishes, I sit back and blow out a breath. My temples throb. “Your mother—”
“Is even more of a foul bitch than I’d thought,” he finishes, aiming his glare at the wall.
“Uh, not that I don’t agree, but someone who would…do that with a kid she was babysitting…” I suppress a shudder of revulsion. “Combined with how cavalier you told me she was about Heidi’s safety, it’s possible she was abused herself.”
He slowly slides his gaze my way. “I’m not real interested in defending her right now.”
“I’m not defending her. I’m trying to make sense of the situation.”
“There’s no making sense of this.”