Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
brONWYN
I’m having trouble believing that after years of keeping the family secret, tonight I’d let it all come out, and I’m uncertain how I feel about it.
I should feel relieved of my burden, but my overwhelming emotion is guilt.
It’s taken me so long to be a proper mom to Trip, not that I’m doing very well in that department. I’m determined to learn and do better.
I’m still reeling from Short’s initial reaction.
He was a man I thought I could trust, but after tonight, the jury's still out. His initial reaction to finding out Trip was my son, and his rapid turnabout when I blurted the truth, has given me whiplash. Having to sit there and hear him express his disgust was devastating, and even when I was finally able to tell him everything, I’m uncertain how much that’s changed his opinion.
Hindsight is an incredible thing. I should have found some way to report my dad – maybe a teacher wouldn’t have believed me, but when I’d started college, I could have come clean.
DNA testing would have proved everything, and I could have saved both Trip and me from the nightmare we’ve been trapped in.
I’d always planned to get Trip away, had a dream that when I became a qualified nurse, I’d move out, get a home, and a steady income, then go back, claim Trip, and bring him with me.
Now, seeing my actions through other people’s eyes, I know I should have acted sooner.
I wipe a tear away as I follow Pippa into the kitchen, knowing it will be impossible to ever forgive myself.
Pippa’s opening and closing cupboards, muttering to herself, but saying nothing to me, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Bringing Short into the fold of my secret was one thing. But now the VP of his club and his woman also know everything. There’s no hope of keeping Trip and my real relationship quiet, nor hiding from the risk that brings.
I know the importance of my father’s doctoring skills to the club.
Will they toss me and Trip out? Send us back to him?
For a moment, I wonder about just taking Trip now, getting him into my car, and driving until the money for gas runs out.
Then I realise even that option isn’t available to me. My car’s still back at the club.
“Hmm, no decaf. But there is coffee. My doctor told me the occasional lapse won’t kill me, and I need a shot of caffeine tonight. You want a cup, Bron? Or want something else? There’s beer and wine here. Oh, and vodka.”
Pippa’s level voice brings me back to myself.
It’s a struggle to answer her question. “I… I’ve got Trip to look after. Sticking with coffee is probably best.” Even to myself, my voice sounds weak. Like the rest of me, I berate myself.
She gets on with getting the brand-new machine grinding the beans and dripping the brown nectar into the flask. While she does, she starts to address the matter at hand. “So, he’s your son. He know you’re his mother?”
I knew she’d have questions, but her tone doesn’t sound like an inquisition, and she already knows the worst, so the rest won’t harm my case further.
“No,” I answer. “I was never allowed to act as his mother. Mom did all the diaper changes and feedings.” My brow creases as I remember.
“At first, I was too traumatised by the birth, too busy healing my mind, and…” I huff softly.
“Knowing what I do now from my medical studies, I had a pretty bad case of post-natal depression. I was happy to stay well away from him.”
Pippa turns, her eyes settling on me, brow creased in sympathy. “It’s no fucking wonder. You were only a kid yourself. And from your description of his birth, you were probably suffering from PTSD.”
I take the coffee cup that’s now ready, holding it if only to give my hands something to do.
I fight to stop them shaking. “I’d always been homeschooled.
” I repeat what I’d told Short. “But only a few weeks after Trip’s birth, Dad sent me to school.
Then it was a case of trying to get through the school day, being bullied enough for being different.
I was having trouble settling into that life, and I admit, I didn’t give much thought to the baby I’d brought into this world.
To…” I struggle to get out the next words, knowing how cold they’ll make me out to be.
But it’s the night when all truth should come out, then everyone will know what they’re dealing with.
“To be honest, I tried to forget everything. Mom and Dad had taken him over, and it was easy to pretend I was nothing to him, other than a big sister.” Pippa’s hand comes out to rest on my arm.
Her tactile sympathy gives me the strength to continue.
“I was fourteen, a child myself. I didn’t know anything about babies.
I accepted that Mom knew what she was doing.
It was only later that I started to wonder why Trip didn’t talk, why he had meltdowns, and why he barely showed any emotion.
But it was too late. When I started showing interest, Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me have anything to do with Trip.
By that time, I was going to college, and well…
” I gesture dismissively with my hands. “New girl all over again. And I needed to study, else I’d disappoint my dad, even more than I’d done already. ”
“I was so scared of him,” I confess. “After Trip was born, he never came to my room, which was a blessing. Over and over, he blamed me for getting pregnant, and I believed him. Everything was my fault, including how Trip had turned out.”
“Oh, honey, it had nothing to do with you. He was the abuser. He was the one who didn’t take precautions – fuck that, he should never have touched you in the first place.
And his relationship to you was what caused Trip’s problems. As for being involved in Trip’s care, you were just a traumatised kid.
And who wouldn’t be after that nightmare of a birth?
At fourteen, I doubt you were fully aware of what was happening.
You were far too young to look after a baby, and your dad might have stopped abusing you physically, but not mentally.
He still exerted his control over you, which put you in an impossible position. ”
“I know that now.” I give a nod toward Pippa. “Knew it from the time I started my nursing studies. But I was a child, his vehemence got through to me. And…” I breathe in deep before admitting, “I was terrified he’d resume coming back into my room.”
“He never molested you again?”
I shake my head. “I was in college before I worked it out. Though he was struck off the medical register for abusing women, his preference is for them to be young. By getting pregnant, I’d become a woman, not a child.”
Pippa studies me for a moment before asking gently, “Have you ever had a proper relationship with a man? A boyfriend?”
My eyes open wide. “No. Why would I? I never want a man to touch me again.”
As I answer, Pippa swings around. Copying her, I see Saint standing in the doorway, and there’s something meaningful in the expression he sends to Short, who’s just a step behind him.
But instead of saying anything to either Short or me, he nods toward Pippa. “We’re going home.”
Dutifully, she stands, finishes her coffee, then takes the time to lean down and tell me quietly, “You want to talk to a woman, you call. Short will give you my number. You can trust Short. He’s a good man.
And Bron, let go of any guilt you’re feeling.
None of what happened to you or Trip is your fault. ”
She’s being nice to me. I don’t deserve it. Short’s reaction had proved that to me.
“Goodnight, Bronwyn,” Saint states politely, then, accepting the hand Pippa holds out, they disappear from the room.
Silence falls, and to say it’s awkward is an understatement. I turn to rinse the coffee cups before putting them into the dishwasher. Short moves past me to take a beer out of the fridge.
It’s only when he’s drained the bottle that he gives a shake of his head. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“I don’t blame you. Short, it’s okay. I’ll work something out for Trip and me. I’m just sorry to have disappointed you.”
“What the fuck?” He closes the gap between us, takes my chin in his hand, and turns my face up toward him so I’m forced to look into his eyes. “Why would you think you disappointed me?”
Pulling myself away, I point my finger at myself. “Why? Well, to start with, I’m not the girl you thought I was. I’m not a sister, I’m a mom, though I never behaved like one. And I was too much of a coward to stand up to my dad—”
“Bron. Bronwyn.” Wringing my hands together, I stare down at them.
“Bron,” he repeats sharply. “Look at me.” He says nothing more, just waits for me to look up.
When I eventually do, I expect to see coldness in his face.
Instead, I see something I didn’t expect.
His eyes are glistening. “Bron, I saw the damage your dad did, and I doubt it was the first time he put his hands on you. For some reason, he wanted Trip’s existence kept quiet, and if you’d spoken up, I dread to think what would have happened to you.
” He takes in a shuddering breath. “One thing is for certain, neither you nor Trip is ever returning to that hellhole of a house, and the mockery of a family. But that won’t stop your father from trying to take you.
So, that’s why I said what I did. I’m offering you my protection and that of the Kings.
And for that to work, I’m going to claim you as my ol’ lady. ”
My eyes go wide, and, seemingly of its own accord, my head starts shaking. My feet move as I back away from him. I know Saint claimed Pippa, and she’s now what Short wants me to be, an old lady. And for Saint, that means she entered a relationship whereby she’s now expecting his baby.
I can’t accept the club’s protection if it comes with strings I can’t fulfil.