Harley: Made it. Have fun today.
Me: Good. See you tonight. Love u.
“How much longer?” Max asks, bouncing around in the backseat.
“Almost there, kiddo. Sit tight,” I say, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. When I packed him up in the car this morning, I double and triple-checked the booster seat and seat belt, my nerves getting the best of me.
What if something happens? Is he safe? Is the strap too tight…is it too loose? Max finally pushed me away and told me he was fine and to get a move on. So here we are on our way to the City Museum. I wanted to do something fun with him today—something that he would remember—and one of my favorite places to go when I was a kid was the City Museum. It’s a child’s dream playground, full of tunnels, caves, and slides. There’s an aquarium, rooftop Ferris wheel, a railroad, and a skateless park, which happens to be my favorite part. I can’t wait to see Max’s face as he explores it all.
We pull into the parking lot and Max instantly starts rapid-firing questions at me.
“Is that a school bus hanging off the roof? Is it gonna fall? Are there kids in there? Should we call 911?” I laugh, putting the car in park. Reaching back, I unbuckle Max and he squirms in his seat, trying to get a better view of the school bus.
“Nope, no need to call 911, it’s part of the museum. You get to play in that school bus.” His eyes widen with horror.
“But it’s gonna fall off the roof!” he screeches.
“No, it’s not,” I assure him, gripping his hand tightly as we make our way to the entrance. “Trust me, it’s perfectly safe. You’re going to have a blast.”
“TY!” he yells, tugging on my arm as soon as we walk through the front door. “Look at that slide, IT’S HUGE!”
His excitement is infectious and I find myself smiling like a kid when I step forward to pay for our wristbands. “Okay, Max, here are the rules.” His wide eyes are bouncing around the museum as he hops from foot to foot. I snap my fingers and he looks at me, though I can tell there about a million other things he’d rather be looking at. “I have to know where you are at all times, okay?” He nods enthusiastically. “You don’t run off without telling me, and if a stranger tries to grab you, I want you to kick and scream as loud as you can.”
His movements still and he looks at me, shocked. “Is a stranger going to grab me?”
“No, but—”
“Because I don’t want to get stolen!” The look on his face is priceless, and for a split second I feel bad for scaring the little fart.
“If you stay by me and I know where you are, nothing will happen. Got it?”
“Got it. Now can we go ride that slide?” he says, yanking my arm as he runs for the stairs. “Look at that!” he hollers, pointing to the ceiling, where a bunch of kids are climbing in a hanging tunnel. “Do I get to do that too?” he asks hopefully as his little legs plow up the steps.
“Whatever you want, little dude, we have all day.” He looks at me and grins, his face flushed with exhilaration. We finally make it to the top of the slide and he lets out a loud ‘WHOOP’ as he sends himself flying down the three-story slide.
Three hours later I’m exhausted, hungry, and fairly certain that I may have pulled a muscle in my groin. Note to self: I’m no longer a kid. Max, on the other hand, seems to just be getting started. This kid has run, jumped, climbed, ridden, and slid up and down this entire museum a hundred times, and he’s still jumping on his toes, begging for more.
“Let’s get a bite to eat, and then we’ll play some more,” I say, desperate to sit down for a couple of minutes. He reluctantly agrees and we head over to the mezzanine to grab some grub.
“What’s your favorite thing at the museum?” I ask, shoving a bite of pizza into my mouth.
“Ummm…” He taps a finger against his chin and then his excited eyes go soft. “The skatepark. I like the skate park.”
I nod, elated that we share the same favorite part. “Me too,” I say. “What do you like about it? Do you like running up the ramps, or sliding down them?”
He takes a long sip of soda and then shrugs nonchalantly. “Neither. I like it ‘cause Mom told me my dad use to skate.” My hand stills on its way to my mouth. His words are completely unexpected and I’m not really sure how to respond. Maybe Harley told him a little white lie about the piece-of-shit dad he will never know. I wouldn’t blame her…of course she would want her son to have some good memories of his father.
“Did he rollerblade?” I ask hesitantly, unsure how far I should push this.
He pops a piece of pepperoni into his mouth. “Nope. Skateboard.” I smile softly at him, thankful that he doesn’t seem upset about the shift in our conversation.
“My brother and I use to skateboard. That’s why I love the skate park here. It reminds me of him.”
“Were you any good?”
“No,” I snicker, remembering how many times I fell before I could even stand up on one. “But my brother was. Dallas could do all sorts of cool stuff on his skateboard.”
Max’s jaw drops and he lets his slice of pizza fall to the table. “That’s my dad’s name!” He eagerly scoots forward in his seat. “How cool is that?”
I stare at him in shock for a few seconds, his words repeating in my head. That’s my dad’s name. What does he mean, that’s his dad’s name? My skin heats with frustration, blood rushing through my ears, and suddenly I’m finding it hard to breathe. Harley assured me that she didn’t know who Max’s father was…was she lying to me? Was she really attacked? Did her and Dallas have an affair, or is she just using Dallas—since he’s deceased—to give Max a father? A growl threatens to rip up my throat, but I fight it back, desperate to keep Max from seeing my reaction. I rub a hand roughly over my face, digging my thumb into my eyes. Pushing back from the table, I stand abruptly and snake my hand out to stop our sodas from tipping over when the table shakes.
“Are you okay, Ty?” Max asks, his head cocked to the side.
“Yeah,” I wave him off, my mouth going dry. My arms feel heavy when I pick up our plates and toss them in the trash. “Let’s go play some more.” He smiles at me and starts skipping off toward the skateless park without a clue that he just set off a spark that will more than likely explode into a full-on firestorm.
“SO HOW DO YOU think Tyson did with Max today?” Avery asks, shrugging out of her lab coat. “Do you think he survived?” We both laugh and I pull my phone out of my pocket, surprised that there isn’t a missed call or text from Ty. I was certain he would let me know how his day went, or at least give me a call when they were on their way home. I smile to myself at the thought that maybe they’re having so much fun that they lost track of time.
“I’m fairly certain that Ty will pass out as soon as he hits a bed tonight,” I say, tossing my stethoscope into my satchel. I heave the strap over my shoulder and then Avery and I make our way out of the hospital. “He had absolutely no idea what he got himself into.”
She snorts with laughter and we talk idly until we reach the parking lot, where she gives me a quick hug before we go our separate ways, promising to catch up for dinner some time soon.
The drive home drags by. I’ve tried calling Ty several times, but his phone keeps going to voicemail. I decide to call my mom and she answers on the first ring.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she croons. “How was your day at work?”
It’s so nice to hear her voice. Sometimes you just need your mom, and I feel like lately I haven’t needed her as much as I did before. “Hi, Ma! Work was good…busy, but good. Have you heard from Ty? I was curious how his day went, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”
“Yes, in fact he dropped Max off here a couple of minutes ago.” Her words startle me and I find myself sitting up straighter in my seat, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.
“Is everything okay?” I ask hurriedly, needing confirmation that nothing bad has happened.
“Oh yes, dear. Everything is fine.
I think that Max wore Tyson out.” My shoulders relax as relief washes through me. Deep down, I knew that Tyson could handle it.
“So, why do you have Max?”
She rustles around and a loud clang indicates that she’s getting ready to cook dinner. “Uh…I’m not really sure. He called me and asked if he could drop Max off, said he needed to talk to you about something right when you get home. I’m going to bring Max home shortly, so if you two are planning on…you know—”
“Mom,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
Her boisterous laugh rings through the phone. “Well, honey, I’m just—”
“Okay,” I interrupt. “Let’s talk about something else, other than what I may or may not do with Ty when I get home.”
“What are you and Tyson doing?” my dad asks, causing me to choke on the tea I just took a drink of.
“Uh, nothing dad. Where’s mom?” I hate it when they do this. She’ll just pass the phone off and next thing I know I’m talking to my dad about…nope, not going there.
“She’s making dinner. Do you and Tyson want to come over and eat?”
“No, but thanks. I’m exhausted. Just tell mom to bring Max home after he eats, or I can come get him…whatever works for you guys.”
I hear him whisper something and then I hear Max laugh. I smile even though I have no idea what they’re talking about. “Okay. See you soon, honey,” his rich voice booms, right before the line goes dead.
When I pull in front of the house, the first thing I notice is Tyson sitting on the front step. He stands as I pull into the driveway and park my car next to his. He has a key to the house, so why is he sitting outside? Walking to the car, he opens the door and reaches out to help me with my bag and lunchbox.
“Thanks,” I offer, pecking his cheek. He doesn’t respond and a shiver runs through my body at the cold vibe he’s putting off. “Why didn’t you wait inside?” I ask, trying to ease the tension that I feel creeping in around me.
He shrugs once and offers me nothing more than ‘I didn’t feel like it.’ Pushing through the front door, he sets the bag down and then immediately turns to me.
“We need to talk,” he says, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Oh God, here it is. He’s finally decided this is too much. He spent the day with Max and decided a ready-made family just isn’t for him. My hands tremble and I feel tears burn my throat, but somehow I manage to make it to the couch.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?” I hate that my voice is timid and shaky, but I’m scared to death of what’s going to come out of his mouth. I mean, I sort of always expected that this was too good to be true, but now the thought of being without Tyson makes me want to throw up.
“You told Max his dad’s name is Dallas,” he blurts, his eyes boring into mine. Okay. That is not at all what I was expecting, and I’m sure as hell not prepared to have this conversation with him. My defenses rise and like usual, when I’m nervous I turn stupid, my words coming out a jumbled mess.
“I…uh…I, um…” I close my eyes and swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. When I open them once again, I find that Tyson’s lips are in a flat line and his face is devoid of any emotion.
“You what, Harley?” he says suspiciously, raising his voice. The strong arms that I spent last night wrapped up in and are now splayed out at his side, and I ache to be tucked between them again.
“Just give me a second,” I yell, standing up to nervously pace the living room. Annoyance runs thick through my veins, but it’s more at myself than at him. I knew that I’d have to answer this question at some point, and I should have just been up front with Ty from the beginning. But how in the hell do you tell the man you’re in love with—the man you want to spend the rest of your life with—that his brother is the one who raped you? How do you tell him that your son, the little boy he’s madly in love with, is really his nephew?
My silence must be mistaken for deceit because Tyson growls deep in his throat and steps toward me. It’s not an aggressive move but it startles me, and when I take a step back I stumble over the coffee table. Surprisingly, his eyes aren’t full of anger, which is what I expect to see. Instead, they are wide with pain.
“How could you do this, Harley?” His jaw is clenched, brows dipped low. His eyes gloss over and my stomach twists at the pain I’m about to cause him.
I reach for him but he steps back, preventing me from touching him. “I didn’t mean for you to—”
“You didn’t mean to what?” he roars, fisting his hands in his hair. “You didn’t mean to fuck my brother?” My mouth drops open in shock. “You didn’t mean to forget to tell me, or you didn’t mean to lie to me about what happened to you?” And that’s all it takes. His discredit of what I told him happened that night makes my blood boil with rage and my body instantly tenses.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I hurl at him. My heart is pounding wildly against my ribs and adrenaline is coursing through my veins so profusely that my body is shaking. “You think I fucked your brother, had a kid, and then lied to you about who the father is? You think I fucking lied to you about what happened that night? What kind of person do you think I am?” I sneer.
“I don’t know what to fucking think because you haven’t told me a goddamn thing! You told me you didn’t know who Max’s father was, and now I found out it may or may not be Dallas. What the fuck, Harley?” he yells, the vein on the side of his neck popping out. I hate that I’m causing him so much turmoil. I hate that the strong, gentle man I’m madly in love with is full of so much anger right now—and it’s completely my fault.
“What do you want to know, Ty?” I shout, instantly regretting the words that are already falling from my mouth. “Do you want to know that your brother raped me?” His eyes widen in shock, but for some reason I can’t seem to shut my damn mouth. “Do you want to know that he yanked me by my hair and shoved my face into the ground so hard when he fucking raped me that I had rocks embedded in my GODDAMN CHEEK?” Hot tears are coursing down my face and my throat burns from screaming.
Ty’s cold eyes are watching me with equal parts anger and disbelief. His nostrils are flared, hands fisted tightly at his side, and his eyes are shooting daggers in my direction. For some reason, that makes me want to piss him off even more.
“Do you want to know that while he was ripping my panties off, I was begging him to stop?” I seethe. My words are meant to hurt him and when he jerks back, I know I hit my mark. He swallows hard, slowly shaking his head in apparent denial. “Do you want to know that I was praying for you to come back—”
“STOP!” he bellows, the deep timber of his voice causing the mirror on the wall to shake. My mouth snaps closed, my chest heaving uncontrollably and my head throbbing from crying. We stare at each other for several seconds as our relationship and all of the trust we’ve built teeters precariously on the brink of disaster.
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. I can’t believe I said all of that to him. My eyes drop in shame and I notice his hands trembling at his sides. When he speaks, his tone is controlled, and it sends a tingle of dread shooting through me. “I…” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe this.”
Pain flashes across his face and tears pool in his eyes, but he holds them back. “Dallas was a good person. He wouldn’t do this, I know he wouldn’t.” I’m not sure he’s talking to me, because his eyes are staring a hole through the floor. I grip my chest tightly at his words because my heart just fucking splintered in two, and I double over in pure agony. He doesn’t believe me.
His shoulders hunch and I watch the rage drain from his body. Ironically, as his anger fades, mine is building with each passing second. For a brief moment, I consider the fact that maybe he needs a minute to come to grips with what I threw at him. Then I remember the words that just fell from his mouth, and that moment quickly passes. He wouldn’t do this, I know he wouldn’t.
His confused gaze finds mine and he takes a hesitant step forward. �
�Are you sure, Harley?” he asks, his eyes desperately searching my face for any sign of hope. “Maybe... maybe it was a misunderstanding. You had been drinking, so maybe things didn’t happen the way you—”
“Get out.” My words are eerily calm as I walk to the front door and yank it open. He dismisses me, instantly shaking his head as he steps further into the room.
“No, I’m not leaving. We need to talk about this,” he says urgently, and I laugh humorlessly at how easily he was able to shift from anger to desperation. His eyes plead with mine as he reaches out, touching my arm. I jerk away from the warm hand that I’m certain could bring me loads of comfort if I wasn’t so fucking pissed off.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Get out.” I gesture wildly at the open door, and his mouth flies open at my refusal to discuss this further. I avoid all eye contact because I know that if I do, I’ll lose every ounce of resolve I have left.
“No…no!” he says, frantically shaking his head. “Give me a second to process this, it’s all just too m—”
“What is there to process?” I snap. “You either believe me or you don’t.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that I know Dallas, and there’s no way—” I refuse to let him finish that sentence. I should have known that he wouldn’t believe me. Dallas was his best friend and confidante, and even though he fucked up in unimaginable ways, Tyson will always see him as the proverbial older brother. Cutting my losses now seems the best way to go about this because there is no way in hell I’m going to sit through anyone telling me that Dallas is a saint, and I’ve come too far to let Ty drag me back down that road. I’m a fucking idiot for even thinking this whole situation could end differently.
“GET. OUT.” My words are slow and concise, and right when he opens his mouth to respond, my mom pulls up in front of the house and Max jumps out of the car. Taking a shuddering breath, I turn away so I can wipe my eyes and I see Tyson do the same.
“Tyson!” he hollers, bouncing up the sidewalk. “Did you tell mom how much fun we had today?” Ty rushes to Max and bends down in front of him. I watch silently as his eyes flit anxiously across Max’s face, and I know exactly what he’s doing…he’s looking for the similarities that have been there all the time. He is cataloguing everything about Max that is unmistakably identical to Dallas.
Where We Belong Page 26