“I feel like throwing up,” Cait moaned as her stomach tossed and turned. Her head still spun, and hot flashes burned through her chest.
Silently, Brian pulled the car to the next turnout.
Cait got out and ran to the guardrails. A black SUV swerved into the turnout, almost hitting her, before the driver decided to pull back onto the road.
He gave her a long, hard stare and drove off slowly.
What’s that all about?
* * *
“We haveto go back to San Francisco,” Brian said to Cait when they got to the cabin. “I need to consult a lawyer.”
He’d screwed everything up. Cait was mad at him for not telling her about Glen, and he was sure she’d want a divorce. She never wanted children, and she sure wouldn’t want one who was already twelve.
“Hold your horses.” Cait put both hands on his upper arms and turned him to face her. “We have to talk, and we’re not going to stop until you’ve told me everything.”
He glanced at his watch. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Start at the beginning. What exactly happened with you and Mrs. Thornton?” She steered him into the living room and sat with him on the couch.
Brian bristled at her demanding tone, but if he didn’t talk, she would never stop pestering him. “She helped me with my social skills.”
“And? What else?”
“No one else understood me. No one liked me and everyone laughed at me.” Brian hung his head and leaned over with his elbows on his knees.
“I like you, and I want to understand you.” Cait rubbed warmth into his bicep.
“But it’s too late. You don’t want kids. You won’t want Glen. He’s all I have.”
“I don’t even know Glen. You dropped him in my lap an hour ago. Tell me how it all started. You and Mrs. Thornton.”
“She showed me how to act normal and pretend I know what people are talking about. She played roles with me and coached me in the debate team. She didn’t think I was a nobody.”
“That’s all well and good, but did you sleep with her?” Cait’s face was red and she shook his arm.
“I did.”
“How old is Glen again? How old were you?”
“Glen’s twelve.”
“That means he was born when you just turned eighteen, but nine months before then, you were seventeen.”
“It started when I was sixteen. On October 14, 2002.” He’d always had a good memory and remembered dates. “It was Columbus Day and I had a debate to prepare for.”
“She’s a child molester.” Cait dragged her hands over his arms, shaking him. “Did you tell your parents?”
“Uhm, no. She told me not to tell anyone, because I was special.”
“This is so wrong, Brian. You have to tell someone. The senator. Did he know? She should have been hauled off to jail.”
“She’s already dead,” Brian said, turning away from Cait. “All I want now is to get my son back.”
“How do you know he’s your son? Just because you slept with her doesn’t mean Glen is yours.”
“That’s exactly what she said.” Brian’s voice exploded from his lips. “She said I should forget about everything and that I’d better not tell anyone as long as she lived. She told me to go to firefighting school.”
