“Babe, just say it.” Wyatt’s voice is gentle. Too gentle. I don’t deserve this kind of sweet from him. Part of me wants to start sobbing and play the victim, telling him I’m afraid he’ll hate me and how very sorry I am. But that’s fucked, and old ladies don’t act like that. The club didn’t vote me in so I could manipulate my man. They voted me in because I know how to take my hits, and I can do it without acting like a pathetic little bitch.
“I lied to you. When I left—I lied.” I suck in a deep breath, hoping it helps calm me some. It doesn’t. “I told you what I had to in order to get our son out safely.”
Wyatt’s eyes bore into mine, completely unmoving, like he’s trying to read between the lines but failing miserably. He’s smart, though. I know he knows. Somewhere, deep in his heart, he has to have thought about it. Or maybe I just don’t want to believe he’d ever buy that I cheated on him. Either way, it definitely doesn’t matter, because I left and he never came after me and I never took the opportunity to come home.
Until now.
When Wyatt finally reacts, it’s with a simple nod. I lower my eyes, unable to watch his eyes as the wheels turn in his brain. He’s working through it all—fourteen years of lies and betrayal all unmasked with a single word.
Our.
“I can’t believe a fucking word you say.” His words are barely audible, coming out on a whisper. He rubs his hands over his face and stares at the wall behind my head. I can’t see the look on his face anymore, just his movements, but it’s enough. Every ounce of fear and regret that’s built up over the years solidifies in my gut, leaving me with a weight that keeps me feeling like I’m being suffocated.
“You were a volatile drug addict, and you scared the shit out of me. I left because you made it clear that the only way I was going to keep Zander safe was if he was away from you.” I let my mouth run with all the thoughts in my head. I don’t give a single second’s thought to the consequences for this kind of honesty. I’ve spent my boy’s entire life in a lie, and I’m done with that life.
“Stop,” Wyatt barks. His voice is edgy, angry, and the muscles in his neck are strained as he speaks. If I don’t say it now, I know I won’t. So I keep going even though I wish I could just shut the hell up already.
“I begged you to lay off the whores, pleaded with you about the drugs and the drinking, and none of it made any difference. I think I would have lived like that, but then you went and threatened me. You were so fucked up, I bet you don’t remember the shit you were spewing, but I do.”
He pushes off the bed so quickly that the movement makes me jump. I watch every little thing he does, from frantically looking around the small room to the way his chest rises and falls quickly despite his attempts to slow his breathing.
“I can’t do this,” he says. He turns for the door, and I know if I don’t make a decision right now, then I won’t have the option anymore. There’s a dangerous aura around him that I remember all too well. His body radiates hate and hurt, all overlapping one another and becoming something entirely different—more desperate, dangerous, and depraved than I’ve ever seen from him in the past.
And because I’m terrified of what his leaving means, I scramble to get to my feet and clear the bed, and in no time I’m wedged between him and the door. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Not that I’d thought about this a thousand times before. Like the day Zander said his first word, or took his first step. I certainly didn’t think about this moment the first time my boy asked about his daddy—back when he was just barely figuring out what a daddy is—and I definitely didn’t think about this moment when the stick turned blue and I realized Zander was going to be a big brother.
“You’re going to have to, because as much as you hate me, there’s a fourteen-year-old boy out there who needs you, and I’ve fucked up with him enough. I’m not leaving here until you get your shit straight so you can be a father to your son.”