How much does Carter really need to know?
He sits back slowly, a terrified light entering his eyes. “Did Chuck do something to you?”
No, Mom did.
Can I sully the memory of the mother he loved? It almost broke me, and I already had plenty of grievances against my mother. Carter tolerated all her hateful antics and continued taking care of her up until the day she died.
But now I see it differently.
He knew the truth for years. All the shit he swallowed from her takes on a new tone. He was silently begging her to love him, despite the violent way he was conceived.
As flawed as Uncle Chuck is, he tried to make things right with me in his fucked-up biker way. I can’t allow Carter to think Chuck is the kind of monster who would violate his own niece.
“No, not Chuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut. The corset I’m wearing under my bathrobe digs into my flesh, reminding me that my future is waiting and the past should stay in the past. “Please don’t make me talk about this on my wedding day.”
“Charlotte, look at me,” he pleads.
When I finally open my eyes, he’s staring at me with a mixture of love and frustration. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Or you can purge it all out of your system now. So you don’t have to worry about another hidden truth sneaking up on you later. Go into your marriage unburdened by the past.” He hesitates. “Sorry, that sounds dumb.”
“No it doesn’t.” In a way, he’s right. I’ll always be worried about slipping up and him finding out some other way. And the worst, ugliest truth buried deep down is that I’m still ashamed of what happened. That my own mother hated me so much, she arranged for her drug dealer to rape me so she could skip away from a debt. Marcel’s burned almost every trace of that shame away with his love and affection. But hiding it from Carter…even if I think I’m doing it for his own good, irritates my soul like lingering dirt I can’t scrub away.
Is it better for him to know the truth? Or would I be doing it for selfish reasons? A way for me to ruin the last bit of his love for our dead mother?
I just don’t know.
Damn, I wish Marcel was here to give me the answer. Encourage me one way or another. But just like I let him figure out when he was ready to tell Heidi the truth about his relationship to Rock, he’d want me to decide how much to tell my brother on my own.
“Why didn’t Teller want me to know the truth about who my real father was?” Carter asks.
I blink, startled at the shift in topic. “He thought it would hurt you more than help you.” I shrug. “Mom was gone. There was no one around who could give you any good answers.”
“I would’ve liked to talk to Dad about it. How he could stand looking at me day after day.” His hands curl into fists.
“He loved you.”
“I don’t know about that.” His pain-filled eyes meet mine. “I felt the distance between us, sometimes. Like he was forcing himself to love me. I’d catch him watching me with,” he flicks his fingers around his face, “this hatred burning in his eyes. I never understood what I did wrong.”
Jesus, I never realized that. My breath catches and I wrap my arms around him, yanking him into a fierce hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And Mom, sometimes she loved me. I was her ‘baby boy’ that she’d shower all this attention on. Then, other times she hated me with a fury I didn’t understand.”
Why didn’t I protect him better? “I shouldn’t have left you with her.”
“You always loved me, no matter what.” He hugs me tight. “Even after you found out?”
“Yes. It didn’t make me feel any differently toward you.”
He pulls away, holding me at arm’s length. “You still let me live here. Brought me into your biker family cult.”
We both indulge in the kind of dark laughter only the most fucked-up situations can inspire.
“Does Rock know?” he asks.
“I don’t think so. Chuck told us when we were alone with him.” My mind returns to the basement of the Wolf Knights’ clubhouse. The dank scent. The stone walls. The truth about my past shattering around me. “I can’t think of a reason Marcel would’ve told Rock.”
“No?” He tilts his head. “Not even when they found out about their relationship?”
“Maybe.” I admit it’s possible. “I’m not privy to their every conversation. But if he did, he never told me. Would it bother you if Rock knew?”