Page 35 of Stepson

“Why do you think Marcus did something?” I ask before I plop a fry into my mouth.

“I was arrested for grand theft auto,” he admits, shaking his head. “So much for my father giving me anything. He told me the Jeep was a gift for all the birthdays and Christmases he had forgotten. Fucking liar.”

My chest tightens at the mention of the Jeep. Oh, what memories that vehicle holds.

“He said it was stolen?”

He nods. “Yep. He told the cops I broke into his garage and stole it from him.” “That bastard,” I breathe out, realizing for the hundredth time how big of an asshole my husband truly is. “Why would he do that?”

“I have no idea. I tried to explain the Jeep was a gift, but they weren’t buying it. I also had a pound of pot and a small baggie of cocaine in the back. I was put in cuffs immediately.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, knowing how much he hates it when I apologize. This time, however, he doesn’t correct me.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve had seven long years to forgive him.”

“And have you?”

He looks over at me with stone cold eyes and a set jaw. “No.”

I don’t blame him. I’d be pissed if my mom or dad set me up like that, too. What I don’t get, though, is why Marcus would do something so horrible to his own son. Is he still angry his ex-wife left and took Gabe with her? I wouldn’t put it past him, but it doesn’t sound right. There has to be a deeper hatred toward his son to put him in prison for all those years.

“What was it like?” I ask as he looks at me confused. “Prison. What was prison like?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “It sucked. Lights went out at 9 pm every single night. The food blew, and the showers were open grounds for trouble.”

I gulp. “But you made it through okay it seems.”

“Yeah, thanks to Jeff. He knew some guys on the inside who took me under their wing. Without them, I probably wouldn’t have. It was like a jungle in there. I never knew when or if I would get jumped from behind. I slept with one eye open and never turned my back to anyone.”

I can see the memories are hard for him to talk about. God, I can’t imagine what it would be like in prison wondering when things could go horribly wrong. And he spent the last seven years there. I reach over and grab his hand.

“You’re free now.”

He smirks over at me, pulling my hand up to his lips before he kisses my fingers softly. His eyes never leave mine, making my heart thunder in my chest.

“Enough about me, let’s talk about you.”

I laugh, pulling my hand from his as I crumble up my wrapper and toss it back into the food bag.

“There isn’t much to talk about.”

“Lies. Everyone has a story to tell. What’s yours?”

I don’t know what he wants me to tell him. My story sucks. I grew up with parents who liked to drink more than they liked attending my volleyball games. I ended up going to college but that didn’t end well when I ran out of money and couldn’t make enough to stay. That’s how I found the job at the Silver Lantern until I got fired for screwing up a drink. It was a bullshit excuse that I couldn’t talk my way out of. Shortly after that, I married Marcus and thought I could put the mystery man of my dreams out of my head.

“Really… there isn’t much to tell. It’s depressing, actually.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “More depressing than serving seven years in prison for a car you didn’t steal?”

“Fuck, you got me there.” I shrug, looking out over the park as I contemplate on what exactly to tell him, but I have nothing.

“Why did you marry my father?”

I whip my gaze to his, holding it for a long moment as I take a deep breath. “Out of everything you could have asked, you ask that?”

He shrugs. “I want to know.”

How can I tell him I married his father because he wasn’t there? How can I tell him I married his father because I was broke, homeless, and about to starve to death?

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