Rock
Everythingin me is screaming to go after Murphy. The fear that he might not come back gnaws at me. Even after a quick chat with Grinder, my unease remains.
I also really want to strangle my son.
All the ways Marcel and I could’ve handled this differently scroll through my head on an annoying loop as I stalk through the woods back to my house.
Months ago. I should’ve forced him to do this months ago. In a planned, controlled, more compassionate way. Not just blurting it out over fucking coffee cake.
Heaviness pulls at me as I step onto the porch. “I’m too old for this shit,” I grumble.
I catch Charlotte’s upbeat tone as I open the front door but can’t make out her words.
Hope’s anxious eyes land on me first. “Are they okay?” she mouths.
I shake my head.
“Well, that could’ve gone better,” Marcel smirks as I walk into the house.
It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in.
Don’t punch him. “Gee, ya think?”
My gaze lands on his anguished eyes. His smirk disappears. The ass chewing I planned to hand him evaporates.
“Is Heidi okay?” he asks.
Heidi’s eager voice asking if I was also her father haunts me. Crushing that seed of hope before it took root hurt like a bitch. “Don’t know. They left.”
He frowns and pushes his chair away from the dining table. “Why’d you let them leave?”
“Are you shittin’ me?” I approach fast and Hope hurries to place herself between the two of us.
“Rock.” Her tone’s firm, like she’s trying to tame an attack dog. Any other time, her voice would soothe my irritation. Not today. Not after that scene.
Charlotte stands behind Marcel, resting her hands on his shoulders. Whether she’s trying to offer him support or keep his ass in the chair, I can’t tell.
“Did they say where they were going?” she asks.
“No.” Why didn’t I see this coming? Heidi taking it hard was a given. Murphy? I knew he’d be pissed at Teller for upsetting Heidi. Maybe offended that we waited so long to tell them. But that’s not all I deciphered from our heated exchange.
You don’t get to tell me what to do, Rock. You’re not my father.
“Heidi’s not the only reason you’ve wanted to keep this under wraps for so damn long, is she?” I ask, taking Hope’s hand and approaching the table with a cooler head.
“No, not really. I don’t know.” Marcel shakes his head, misery falling around him like a cloak.
I tap his phone, sitting on the table. “You call them?”
“About a hundred times. Keeps going to voicemail.”
No surprise there.“What about you?” I ask Charlotte.
Her eyes widen. She glances at Marcel, then Hope. “I can try…”
“She’s not answering my calls either,” Hope says.
“Where do you think they went?” Marcel asks me.