Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Did my mother know who my real father was?
Rock would’ve been awfully young when they had their…what the fuck do you call a nineteen-year-old woman who fucks an eleven-year-old kid? Christ, my mother was much more screwed up than I ever imagined. Had she already been in a relationship with my fake dad at that point? Or did she hurry to find someone more suitable to take care of her and her unborn spawn?
So many questions and no one to ask. My grandmother’s dead—since she hated me with a borderline crazed passion, I assume she always suspected something was off about my paternity. My mother? Even if I located her worthless ass, I doubt she’d have any useful insight to share. And I don’t want to do anything to bring her into my life, or God forbid, my sister’s life.
When will the mistakes of our parents stop haunting us?
Heidi needs to focus on finishing college, taking care of her daughter, and planning her wedding. She’s been robbed of enough of life’s milestones. Is a peaceful graduation and wedding too much to ask?
Heidi’s feelings may be a convenient reason to postpone sharing the news, but she’s not my only motivation.
Who am I? Not Marcel Whelan, the name I’ve known my whole life. Now it feels wrong and mismatched.
North. Marcel North. Does that sound any better? I asked Charlotte to marry me not that long ago. What name do I want to give her? What name do I want our children to have?
The big green sign up ahead signals my exit is approaching. I flick my blinker on and guide my bike to the right. I’ve managed to put almost three hundred miles behind me and it still doesn’t feel like enough.
It’s been years since I’ve ventured this far north. Nothing looks the same. I slow my bike at the Rainbow Bridge checkpoint. My record was clean enough to allow me to visit Grinder in prison for years without any issue. Crossing the border into Canada should be a breeze.
The stone-cold border patrol officer scans my passport. In a bored tone, he asks, “Business or pleasure?”
Neither. “Pleasure.”
He rakes his gaze over me but his expression remains unreadable behind mirrored sunglasses. “Enjoy your stay.” He flips my passport closed and hands it to me.
I tuck my identification into my breast pocket and take off. Traffic’s light but bottlenecks as the road narrows. The constant balancing to keep my bike upright while we stop and go keeps my mind occupied.
Why here?
Something lured me across the border. What?
Flashes of a long-ago family trip fire in my memories. Heidi hadn’t been born yet. It was just the three of us. Not-my-Dad, Mom, and me. A weekend trip to visit Mom’s family. A sister? Cousin? A vague memory of pestering not-my-father about going over the falls in a barrel rises to the surface. Even then, I had an unhealthy fascination with the limits of my mortality.
I’ve made my peace with a shitty upbringing. Made a life for myself. The Lost Kings MC is the only family I need. Found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Why am I chasing answers that don’t even matter?
Physically exhausted, I find the first hotel that looks bedbug free. Mentally, my mind’s still spinning. I check my phone and find dozens of texts from Murphy, Heidi, Rock, and Charlotte.
Guilt crawls over my skin. I don’t want them to worry, but I can’t talk to Murphy or Heidi right now. The fear that I’ll let this secret loose before I’m ready to deal with the consequences holds me hostage.
An irrational anger with Rock followed me all the way here, so I don’t want to talk to him either.
I send Charlotte a message and let her know that I’m okay and where I’m staying, then shut off my phone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Charlotte
“I won’t be gone much longer, Sunshine. Promise.”
I stare at the calendar on my desk and slash lines through the days Marcel’s been gone. How many more?
“Sunshine, you there?” he asks.
His warm voice doesn’t soothe me the way it usually would. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I will,” he assures me.
My emotions are so tangled, it’s hard to concentrate on the file in front of me after we hang up. The day’s already off to a rough start. After the bombshell news Marcel received, and his abrupt trip out of town to cope with the life-altering revelation, work has seemed impossible.
I should’ve gone with him.
Except, he didn’t ask me to.
And I didn’t push.
At least Marcel isn’t the father of Inga’s baby. I might have had to skip town if that test had come back positive. If I don’t try to find the silver lining in this whole mess, I’m going to lose my marbles. Marcel didn’t father a stripper’s baby—that’s the upside.