Page 82 of Stepson

She looks away from me with guilt, and I know now she knows the exact reason why Marcus fucking hates me. Her otherreasons are obviously bullshit and now I want the truth. It’s time.

"What is it, Mom?"

"You were too young to know what was going on…" she trails off while her eyes go to a memory from long ago. "You had an older brother, Gabe. His name was Eric, and you two were best friends. He was five years older than you, but he never made you feel like a little brother."

She stares into my gaze as I think about her words. An older brother? Why does that feel right? It’s as if I have memories from a time I didn't remember until now. Snatches of memories fill my mind of a little boy who crawled into bed with me when a powerful thunderstorm rattled the glass windows while rain pelted them. Other memories of the same little boy who brushed the grass from my knees when I had fallen after trying to catch up with him. Why haven't I recalled any of this until now?

"You had just turned five when we… lost him." Her voice is soft, and she moves her gaze away from me again. "We had installed the in-ground pool the summer before and told you boys to stay away from it unless Mommy or Daddy were with you. Marcus and I were fighting like always when I looked out the window and saw Eric fighting to stay above water. You just stood there on the side of the pool watching him with tears streaming down your face."

My heart clenches over a memory I don't remember. The only thing I remember from that age is always being afraid because Mom and Marcuswerealways fighting. I blocked most of my childhood from my mind, and now I know why.

"By the time I could get down there, it was too late. I jumped in the pool and pulled Eric out before I began CPR but he was already gone." Tears fill her eyes before she blinks, letting them slide down her rosy cheeks. "Your father blamed you for Eric's death. Eric was Marcus's golden boy and he blamed you forletting him die. From the moment we buried Eric, Marcus never looked at you the same."

My mouth opens to say something but no words come out. Leave it to the bastard to blame a five year old for something he didn't mean to do. I don't even recall the event, yet he still blames me?

"I don't know what to say," I whisper.

She shakes her head and reaches over to grab my hand. "There's nothing to say, sweetheart. It wasn't your fault, and I never blamed you for a second. Your father is messed up in the head and I tried to fix it, but there was nothing to fix. You don't remember the drowning because I brought you to a psychologist who specializes in hypnosis. I had him make you forget it. I didn't want you to grow up blaming yourself for something you couldn't control."

Anger fills me once more and hating my father feels even better. I honestly don't even remember having an older brother and he decides to ruin my life for something that happened when I was a little boy? The man is a fucking real-life monster.

"I can't wait to see him rot in jail for the rest of his life." And that’s the truth. I won't be able to move forward and enjoy life with Bentley if he isn't in jail where he belongs.

Mom squeezes my hand. "I'm right there with you, sweetheart." She studies my face before she asks, "What are your intentions with Bentley?"

Her question surprises me. "What do you mean? Aren't my intentions clear? I want her. I want all of her."

She smiles. "I adore her, and I love the way you two look at each other. Do you think I'll be a grandma soon?"

I feel the color drain from my face as I pull my hand from her embrace. Children have never been on the table for me, and I don't think they'll ever be. I’m a criminal with a dark history, and if I’m being frank, I never saw myself being a father.

"I don't want children. You know that, Mom."

She nods. "I do, but does she?"

I gulp as I remember the conversation I had with Bentley in the Jeep. She had asked me about children, and I answered her honestly, but now my wheels are turning again. What if she wants children? I can't give them to her because I don't want them. I know I should have thought about this before, but I didn't know how to tell her after all these years. Hey, I want you but I don't want to have children. Not exactly a conversation starter, is it?

What if I lose her because of this? Can I suck it up and be a father if she wants them? Can I do that for her? My love for Bentley is immeasurable, but this is something I don't think I can do, but the thought of losing her terrifies me even more than being a father.

Before I can get two words out, the hotel room door opens and Kurt appears with a smirk on his lips. My heart rate picks up with excitement as I think of all the scenarios as to why he’s here.

"Marcus has finally woken up. Are you two ready for some real justice?"

Fuck yes, I am. Let's do this.

Chapter forty-three

Bentley

"Just sign on these lines and you'll be a free woman."

My hand shakes as I take the pen from Kurt. I’m about to sign the divorce papers that’ll set me free from Marcus forever. How Kurt got these together so quickly is beside me, but I’m glad he did. And one look up at Gabe's face, and I know he’s just as happy.

"And he can't fight this?" I ask as my nerves take over.

Even with Marcus all banged up in the hospital, I’m afraid he'll be able to keep our marriage legal and that terrifies me. The thought of him setting up loopholes I had no idea about flashes through my mind.

Kurt shakes his head. "No, he won't be able to. The photos you captured of him with that woman is proof of adultery and of hisinfidelity. My judge won't even bat an eye at these documents before approving them. You have nothing to worry about."

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