Knowing what an asshole her uncle was to her, dropping by unannounced under these circumstances probably scared the shit out of her. With that in mind, I keep my distance and hold my hands up slightly, a subtle assurance I’m not here to do any harm. Last thing I want to do is terrorize my almost… daughter-in-law.
Christ, this is weird.
“Have you heard from Marcel?”
She drops her gaze and nods.
“Can we talk for a minute? If you have the time.”
“Oh. Of course.” A smile flickers at the corners of her mouth. “Come on back into my office.”
I follow, feeling mildly claustrophobic with my head almost grazing the ceiling and my shoulders brushing the walls. Damn, this place is small.
Her office is larger. Neat and tidy. Almost makes me nostalgic for Hope’s chaotic closet of an office. Not even on the road yet and I’m missing my wife.
Focus. I came here for something else. Something important.
“Have a seat,” Charlotte says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk. She takes the other one and turns it slightly so we’re facing each other. “What’s on your mind?”
“So you heard from him? He’s okay?”
“Yes. He didn’t call you?”
I pull out my phone. There’s a text from Murphy but nothing from Teller.
Now I’m pissed instead of worried.
“Teller talk to you before he took off?” No point in drawing this out. We both know I’m not here for a social call.
She lowers her gaze and fiddles with her hands in her lap. “About the paternity test?” she asks in a softer tone than I’m used to Charlotte using. “About you… and him? Yes. He told me.”
“I thought he was okay. But then he just took off.”
“I think he felt bad… he was worried he caused Hope to have problems.”
Her eyes finally meet mine and the fear shining in them punches me in the gut. “Charlotte, I’m worried about him. Nothing more. I want to make sure he’s okay.” If she’s worried that I blame Teller for anything, or that I’ll hurt him to keep our relationship a secret, then she really doesn’t know me at all.
She shakes her head and at the same time seems to shake off her fear. “He’s okay.” She leans forward. “Honestly, Rock, as long as I’ve known him, he’s always—” She hesitates and seems to search for the right word. “—looked up to you. Thought of you as a father.”
“Obviously, I don’t deserve that.”
“From the stories he’s told me, I think you do. He’s always said you’re the only person he’s been able to count on. You’re the one who steered him in the right direction. Made sure he finished school. Kept him out of trouble. Gave him the ability to take care of his sister. Nurtured his business sense. Those are all things he’s told me were because of you.”
Only because when I met Marcel, he displayed an unusual level of courage and loyalty for his age. I knew what an asset he’d be to the club one day. Doesn’t sound so noble when I put it that way. Maybe that’s what’s bugging me.
“If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have been able to take care of Heidi.”
My mouth twists into a half smile. “He ever tell you how we met?”
“Just bits and pieces.”
“He was a brave kid. Risking his life to take care of his sister and his buddy.”
She smiles even wider. “Murphy?”
“They were inseparable long before I met them.”
“Marcel’s a good man, Rock. Maybe you didn’t know he was your son, but you raised him well.”
Shit, I didn’t expect to get choked up coming here. “Thank you, Charlotte. Appreciate that.” I stare at her for a few seconds. “You’re good for him.”
“I hope so.”
“When did he call you? What did he say? He tell you where exactly he is?”
She looks down at her lap again. “He called about half an hour before you showed up. He didn’t really give me any details, but he said he’s fine. I called Murphy and let him know.”
That’s a relief. Teller’s capable. Can handle himself, but I also worry he’ll do something stupid because he’s upset. He may have mellowed-out since getting together with Charlotte, but hot-headed tendencies like his don’t just disappear.
“You know where he is?”
“Niagara Falls. I’m not sure why he went there.” She blows out a breath. “I offered to meet him up there.”
“But he wants to be alone?”
“Yes.” She gestures to the room around us. “I would’ve taken the time. Whatever he needed.”
“It’s not you, hon. He needs to be alone and sort it out. Maybe when he gets back, you two should take off together for a bit.”
Her smile returns and she seems to relax. “I hope so.”
“Everything okay with the house?”
She hesitates at the change in conversation, then smiles. “It’s fantastic. He’s in his country-boy element. He and my brother were discussing buying baby chicks and building a coop.” Her voice falters. “Before the news.”
“If you need something while we’re gone, don’t be afraid to call Murphy or Z.”
“I will.”
I nod toward her desk. “You ever deal with a case like this?”
“Like this?” She sits back. “An adult discovering paternity? Not quite. Children, one or two teenagers. But not an adult.”
“How does it work out?”
She regards me carefully before responding. “It’s hard. If the father already has another family, sometimes his first reaction is denial for fear of angering his wife or losing his family.”
“Marcel doesn’t have to worry about that. Hope already treats him like a… younger brother.”
“Yes, but you’re getting ready to have a baby. I think he’s worried this has lessened that experience for you somehow. To find out you’re already a father.”
“It hasn’t lessened anything. I’m worried he’s pissed that I didn’t figure it out sooner.”
Charlotte half smiles. “Sometimes the children are angry. They feel abandoned. But I don’t think Marcel feels that way at all. I think—” She stares off to the side for a second. “—he’s almost embarrassed? He already has no love lost for his mother, and this only multiplies that hatred.”
“Shit, yeah. I don’t blame him there. But I can’t really blame her either. I doubt she knew. If she was with someone else…” It’s such a long damn time ago. So many things in my life have happened since those two brief encounters with a woman I can barely remember.
“You must’ve been a kid yourself,” she says gently.
“Not that much of a kid apparently.”
Her gaze darts away. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Speak freely, Charlotte. You’re not going to offend me.”
“I know you’re rather… stoic and don’t share your emotions. Especially with the brothers. Your role as their president doesn’t really afford you that luxury.”
She really is good for Teller. If he ever ends up taking over for me, she’ll be exactly who he needs at his side.
“Go on,” I encourage.
“What do you want?”
“I want to make things up to him.”
“Rock,” she says. “There’s nothing you can do about the past. But going forward, I think if you want to develop this… new relationship, you’re both going to have to be honest with each other about your expectations and emotions surrounding being father and son.”
Emotions—complicated as fuck.
My ex
pectations.
What are my expectations?
I don’t even know.
Chapter Seventeen
Rock
Now that I know Teller’s okay, I’m free to deal with all the other stuff bothering me.
I send him a quick text.
We’re riding out for a meet at the Demons’ if you want to join us.
Riding usually clears my head.
But it takes a lot of miles before Charlotte’s voice stops echoing.
My expectations.
I can’t change the past.
Can’t go back and be a better role model. Or treat Marcel any differently. Be the kind of father he deserved.
Charlotte said he ended up in Niagara Falls. Not far from the Demons. Maybe he’ll meet up with us.
About halfway there, we pull over at a rest stop for lunch. Still no response from Teller when I check my phone.
The place is dead inside, and I question the wisdom of eating any of the food being served up by the fast food place.
Ravage risks it. Wrath and I go for coffee instead. Stash stays with the van.
“You all right, Prez?” Wrath asks, giving me a once-over.
“I’m fine.”
“You need your head on straight for whatever we’re about to deal with.”
“No shit.”
“Teller meeting us there?”
“I don’t fucking know.” I glare at him. “You planning to grill me all afternoon?”
He smirks, and I sense he’s dying to ask a bunch of questions I don’t feel like answering. But then he drops it and shakes his head. “Come on.”
Malik returns from the attached convenience store with four fat blueberry muffins and his own coffee.
“I used to come out here all the time,” he explains. “The owner’s wife makes these from scratch.”
“Don’t find that at a gas station often,” Wrath says, unwrapping one of the muffins.
Ravage takes forever to join us with a tray.
“I think they’re slaughtering the cows by hand out back.” He shakes his head. “Sorry it took me so long, Prez.”
When Ravage is done, I shift my gaze to Wrath and jerk my head to the side. “Give us a minute.”