Chapter Twelve #2
The hood disappeared. When his eyes adjusted, Kirkland found himself alone with Atticus in the back of a van.
He didn’t look away no matter how much he wanted to close his eyes.
His heart broke a little more by the second.
He knew Atticus would explode any moment.
There was no way he could brace to see the hate. He loved Atticus too much.
“I don’t know where to start.” Atticus sounded calm. That was worse than yelling. He knew how cold Atticus could be.
Kirkland didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say. It was only fair Atticus got his say.
“Mom didn’t kill herself because of you. She killed herself because of that piece of shit who called himself my dad. It wasn’t on you.”
Kirkland felt numb. “You didn’t see her face.”
“Bullshit!” There was the explosion. He had known the rage would surface. “I saw her face every goddamn day. You didn’t wear her down. He did. You’re one person. There were countless. You were the only one she didn’t know about. He flaunted that shit in her face.”
“Of course he hid me. Someone like Rush couldn’t be seen as someone who preferred men.”
“Kids, you mean.”
Kirkland’s eyelids fell. His chest hurt.
The numbness was fading, and he was terrified of what might be underneath.
He had kept that secret for his entire life for a reason.
If no one else knew, then he could pretend nothing happened.
Kirkland had only told Fabrice because he never wanted secrets between them.
When he opened his eyes, pain like Kirkland had never seen stared back at him. “You could’ve come to me.”
With the world’s worst timing, a sardonic smile touched his lips. “You were three.”
“I wasn’t three when she died.”
Kirkland shook his head. “What would you have done? Thrown me out on my ass, most likely. Do you think her death stopped anything? He didn’t give any more of a fuck about that than he did you.
” Kirkland immediately regretted the words.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to use that as a weapon against you.
It’s just…” Kirkland made a helpless gesture.
He had no idea what he could possibly say.
He didn’t have a single defense. Kirkland wouldn’t give it if he did.
He loved Atticus too much to do anything less than accept full blame.
“This was a shitty thing to do to Fabrice on your wedding night.”
Just the sound of Fabrice’s name lightened the weight on his chest. “It’s not like I planned this.
Just as I have done my entire life, I’m destroying everything that matters the most.” Kirkland sat forward.
He wanted Atticus to look into his eyes and see his soul.
“No matter what, I need you to know I love you. To me, you’re my son.
Not his. He can steal this very last thing from me, but I’ll still speak that truth to the end.
I adored you when you were three, and that love has done nothing but grow since.
It was a blessing and an honor to have been there to watch you become the wonderful man you are.
I’m proud of you and you should be proud of yourself. ”
Atticus took his hands. Since Atticus wasn’t much on showing affection, even though he was learning for Foster, Atticus’ actions surprised him.
“Why do you keep talking like you’re going somewhere?
You aren’t going anywhere. There’s a husband waiting for you at home.
” A small smile touched Atticus’ lips. “There’s a son who still needs you.
You survived Rush. You won. Don’t let him steal another damn thing from you.
I know I don’t plan to let him take you too. I’ve given enough.”
Kirkland didn’t know how to react. The moment didn’t feel real. “Are you forgiving me right now? I expected at the very least a punch.”
A bright grin split Atticus’ face. “There’s not a single goddamn thing to forgive. Plus, you were the first person to teach me to fight, and you hit harder than people expect.”
A laugh sneaked out. Atticus was a good kid. Better than he even knew.
Atticus squeezed his hands. “I love you, old man. You’re my dad.
I don’t give a fuck what some ancient piece of paper claims. You are my dad.
” Atticus released him and spread his arms. “Don’t you see how lucky you are?
Most dads raise their kids and watch them move away.
You’re stuck with yours for life. I’d say don’t go too hard on me breaking curfew to come get you, but I’m getting older. I don’t want to be out past ten.”
Kirkland shook his head. Atticus had always been a character. “You can’t fool me. I know you too well. You’re hoping for a ten o’clock bedtime so you can take Foster to bed.”
Atticus’ eyes swam with mirth. “Busted. He’s great, though, right? I did good.”
“He’s perfect for you. I knew from the very first night he broke into our home to stalk you that he was the one. You’d never settle for anything less than batshit insane.”
Atticus didn’t stop smiling. “I knew the first time I saw Fabrice tease you that he was the one. You looked at him like I’ve never once seen you look at anyone else. I know you’d never settle for anyone any less than batshit insane.”
They laughed.
“You two even have the same laugh. I couldn’t tell you two apart in the dark.”
Kirkland’s gaze jumped to the driver’s seat.
He had been such a mess he hadn’t even thought about who drove them.
It was Tracker. If any one of the brothers had to hear this conversation, Tracker was the best choice.
He stayed pretty neutral on most things.
Tracker was the levelheaded one in the family.
Now he just prayed Fabrice was as calm as he had seemed through text.
Kirkland wasn’t out of the woods yet. He might have kept a son and lost a husband.