Chapter 25

Michael

t’s been a week, and Dani hasn't answered one of my phone calls. I fucking hate the way I handled things. But I still have no doubt in my mind that I would be a shitty father.

I walk into Brooke and Dylan's and smile at Brooke as I quietly creep in, hoping I don't startle her. She looks pretty comfy, kicked back in her favorite chair, folders laid out on her lap and a glass of wine sitting next to her on the table.

Her chair sits facing away from the door, and I notice she has ear buds in as I get closer.

I walk in front of her, and she jumps slightly as she realizes someone is here, and she yanks her earbuds out. “Wow, Michael. Hi.”

I chuckle and take a seat on the couch. “Sorry. You know, maybe you should lock the door if you’re gonna be listening to music that loud, faced away from the entrance.”

She shakes her head laughing as she places her phone streaming her music on the table. “Gee thanks for the advice, dad. Dylan is somewhere, so I figured I was safe.”

“Where are the rugrats?”

“Sylvie is watching her video in my room, and the twins are actually napping, all at the same time.”

“Wow.”

She laughs happily. “I know, right? That never happens.”

Shit, I’m an asshole. I’m about to ruin her good mood. “Brooke, I need to talk to you.”

She instantly sits up, giving me her full attention. “What’s wrong?”

I take a deep breath and start with the easiest thing first. “Dani's pregnant.”

She looks surprised, but nowhere near as shocked as I still am. “Huh, and you’re freaking out?”

I nod. “Of course. I don’t know how to be a father.”

She smiles sweetly and leans forward, her hand on my knee. “No one does. Hell Michael, it’s normal to be scared.”

“Brooke, I’m an addict. I’m selfish, and I say all the wrong things. I've done all the wrong things. How can I give advice and guide another human being?”

“Honey, besides the addict part, that’s everyone. We all do things in life we regret. That’s what will make you an excellent parent. You’ll be able to offer firsthand experience.”

My fists clench at my side, thinking about all the things that could happen to my child. Things I may not be able to control. People that will hurt them. “There's something else I need to tell you, but I need you to stay calm.”

Now she looks really worried. “Okay.”

I take a deep breath, trying to use my therapy and rehab techniques, but failing because my heart is pounding in my chest. “I was at Julia's funeral for a very different reason than all of you.”

Brooke's curious eyes are glued to mine. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

Fuck. Dylan's deep, concerned voice comes across the room as he strides in from the kitchen.

“I, uh . . .”

Shit. How can I tell them this? The two people I look up to more than anyone in the world. They’re going to see me completely differently now.

I rise from my seat, not able to look at them. “It hadn’t been nearly a decade since I’d seen her. More like five years.” I swallow, trying to wet my dried throat. “We um . . . fuck.” I look at Brooke. “Sorry.”

She walks to me, placing her comforting hand on my shoulder. “You can tell us anything.”

“I don’t even know how to tell you.” I take another deep breath and tear off the bandage. “We had sex. A lot.”

Brooke sucks in a sharp breathe, and Dylan walks over to stand next to her. “You what?”

Here it comes. They are going to hate me. “I didn’t even want to, I mean, not really. But I never said no, and I let it keep happening.”

Brooke’s hand slides down and grasps mine tightly. “When did this start?”

“When I was fourteen.”

“Fuck.” Dylan looks sick and full of rage.

Brooke just keeps the questions going. “Fourteen? How long did she do this?”

“I was sixteen the last time, but she didn't force me. I was pretty large by then, Brooke, and my body was willing.”

Dylan shakes his head, and I wait for him to lay into me. “You were a kid. She was an adult. And it doesn’t matter if your body was willing. Your mind wasn’t.”

I stare at him in shock. He doesn't blame me? “I just wanted to feel closer to mom, which is so sick. When it all started, she would tell me stories about her, and it just got fucked-up.”

“That. Bitch.” I turn to Brooke, who is clearly furious at Julia. “How could she do that?” She faces Dylan. “She's so damn lucky she's dead.” Her attention refocuses on me as she grips my face in her hands. “This is not your fault. And I’m so glad you told us. I knew there was something else, but just couldn't put my finger on it. I am so sorry.”

I shake my head, her hands moving with my motion. “It’s definitely not your fault.”

“I should have gone with my gut. I knew something was off.”

“It’s over now. And she's dead.”

Brooke hugs me tightly, and I can't believe I was so afraid to tell them.

It’s fucked-up and twisted, but there's no judgement.

And somehow, in this moment, I know it’s going to be okay. Now, I just have one last thing to do.