He smoothed Spencer’s thick hair off his brow to keep it from obscuring his bright eyes. “No. You’re not, are you? And how the hell did that happen?” This man had somehow become the one—theonlyone—he could open up to, and Wolf, desperation dogging him, released the torrent of emotions he’d held at bay for years.
“My father…I don’t even want to call him that because the thought of him and me sharing the same blood horrifies me. I had everything, and then in one minute it was all yanked away. Forever.”
“Come on.” Spencer tugged at his hand, and he followed like a docile child. They returned to the couch, where Spencer wrapped his arms around him. “Go ahead.”
“In hindsight, I’m sure my mother threw her lavish parties as a way to stay busy and surrounded by people because my father was never home. She started cheating on him when I was too young to understand why she would be hugging and kissing other men. By the time I figured it out, it all came crashing down, and none of it mattered anymore.”
“Parents don’t realize we see and hear everything,” Spencer said grimly.
“They were two selfish people, and I doubt they cared if I saw them or not. One morning, I woke up to pounding on the door. When our housekeeper opened it, a swarm of police, FBI, and US Marshals burst inside. They shoved a search warrant in our faces and proceeded to go through the house, taking my father’s computers, his discs, record books…anything and everything from his desk and bedroom.”
“He wasn’t with you?”
“No. He’d already been arrested at the apartment he kept in the city for when it became too late to travel home after work.”
“Shit. That must’ve been hard for you. I’m sorry.”
“No one ever thinks about the people left behind. When the lights of the cameras are turned off and the reporters leave, it’s just you and the debris of your broken life.”
“He went to jail?” Spencer’s voice rumbled through him.
“Yes. A minimum of twenty-five years.”
“Jesus, what the hell did he do? Murder someone?”
He rubbed his face and forced himself to look at Spencer, to see his eyes when he told him. The first reaction was the reality. Wolf needed that truth from Spencer.
“Felony sex crimes. He had child pornography on his computer, and when they arrested him at his apartment, he was with a fifteen-year-old girl. She wasn’t the only one he’d been with, either. It had been going on for years.”
Nausea threatened and he choked, sick to his stomach from saying the words out loud. He waited for the disgust and recoil. Maybe Spencer would make an excuse and run away. He wouldn’t blame him. But it didn’t come. Instead, those blue eyes he’d both scorned and lusted over for almost half his life filled with pain and tears, and Wolf found himself squashed in a massive hug, with Spencer kissing his neck, his cheek, muttering, “I love you. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
Wolf floated, sinking into Spencer’s arms, letting the strength of his embrace carry him to safety and peace. He wished he could stay like this, cocooned in their shared warmth, and not have to return to the ugliness of his life.
“It won’t be okay. It never could. Imagine sitting through a trial, hearing how your father, the man you looked up to, lusted after young girls and had naked pictures of them on his computer. I was spit on at school, knocked into the lockers, and had my head shoved in the toilet too many times to count. For a year, no one would sit next to me at lunch or in class. I couldn’t take the bus because it would conveniently forget to stop by my house or everyone would talk about me on the ride to or from school, telling me my father was a rapist and that if he liked little girls, I must too. I had to drop out of the swim team and the tennis team, and within three months, my mother had a driver bring me to school.”
“It must’ve been hard for her.”
“She didn’t leave the house all year, becausewhat would everyone say? That was her excuse for not driving me to school and hiring someone instead. She spent every day watching the reports on television.”
“She didn’t go to the trial?”
Wolf’s smile was anything but humorous. “Of course not. She felt if she did, people might think she supported him.”
“Understandable. I can’t fault her for that.”
“No? Would you fault her for drinking herself into oblivion every night? I needed her, and she wasn’t there for me. She was too busy being wrapped up in what other people would think about her. Not me, her child. Deep down, I know it wasn’t her fault—she must’ve been depressed and hiding away from the shame. See, it wasn’t only my father who was put on trial. It was also their lifestyle. All these people she thought were her friends came out of the woodwork to say they’d slept with her, and my whole family was branded as sexual deviants. She couldn’t handle it. A few days after he was sentenced, she killed herself.”
Spencer grew stiff. “No, Wolf…”
“I found her.” He closed his eyes, awash in memories. “She was passed out on the couch, like I usually found her when I came home from school. I don’t know what made me go over to her. Every day I’d stick my head in the door to the family room, where she’d be on the couch, watching television. Maybe I went in that day because it was so silent.” He hugged himself, but that didn’t stop the tremors running through him. “I thought she was sleeping, until I saw the empty vodka and pill bottles next to her. I remember screaming, but by the time our housekeeper called the ambulance, it was too late.”
“God. Sweetheart.” Spencer pressed a wet cheek to his dry one. He had no more tears left, or maybe he was merely a puppet walking through life and couldn’t cry.
“With my father in jail and my mother dead”—he swallowed hard—“I was sent to live with my aunt Helen, the only relative willing to take me in, but she immediately sent me away to boarding school. When I’d go home for holidays and break, she’d invite her friends over and make a big fuss to show them how magnanimous she was to take care of her poor orphaned nephew. I remember one of her friends asking if she felt safe in the house with me, considering my bad blood.” His hands balled into fists. “I left after graduation and never went back. I legally changed my name because I knew my father’s crimes would follow me my whole life. I knew I’d never be free unless I rid myself of the stigma.”
Spencer touched his cheek. “Wait a minute. Your name isn’t really Wolf?”
For the first time in days, his smile was real. “It is, in a way. My given last name was Lupo. It’s Italian for wolf. Garrett was my mother’s maiden name.”
