“I can’t ignore it. None of us can.”
He gestures downstairs, and I wonder if the other guys have spoken about it, the possibility of those children having come from our night together. I press my lips together, gazing back at him, and I know that everything I’ve done to try and dodge the reality of this situation is falling away. They have to know. I can’t deny it any longer, not as long as we’re under the same roof.
I lock eyes with Joe, and find his gaze searching mine, delving deep into my soul as he uncovers what lies beneath.
“Are those children,” he begins, speaking slowly, like he’s trying to wrap his head around what this means for all of us, “the result of that night at the bonfire?”
His strangely formal language contains a boiling emotion that threatens to rise up and overwhelm us at any moment.
The world spins as I search for the words to reply. I know what I should say—what I need to say, if I’m being honest—what has to come out of my mouth if I’m going to make it through this. I close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath, but I can feel the panic starting to swell in my chest again, and I grip the water bottle tight in my hand, the plastic crumpling in my grip.
“Just tell me the truth,” Joe intones, closing the distance between us. He stands so tall in front of me, I can hardly think straight, like the whole world has narrowed down to the sight of him. I know, if I tell him, I’m laying out the truth for the others too—what one of them knows, all of them know, that much is clear.
“I…” I swallow hard, trying to gather the words. This is not a conversation I ever thought I would have to have with them, let alone at a time like this. There have been times when I couldn’t sleep at night, and I would stare at the ceiling, turning over thefantasy of it in my head—them coming back to town, me telling them the truth about everything that happened, the look in their eyes as they realize that they’re fathers for the first time.
“I wasn’t with anyone else when I was at college, if that’s what you mean?—”
“You know what I’m asking,” he replies, his voice taking on a harsher edge. He sounds as though he’s barely clinging to his patience right now, and I don’t want to push him any further than I already have. But the words swim in front of my eyes, the pain gripping my chest, my whole world tipping on its axis. If I tell them, then I have no way to hide from the truth any longer, no way to pretend that the enormity of everything I’ve kept from them is anything other than real…
“You want to know if one of you…if one of you is the father of the quads?” I ask.
He nods. His hands flex at his sides, and he doesn’t move a muscle as he waits for me to respond.
Finally, I force the words to the tip of my tongue, trying to coax myself into coming clean about what I thought I would never, ever have to. “Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, you are.”
He draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes like he’s letting the words settle into his mind. I scan his face for some kind of reaction, but if there is one, I can’t make out what it’s meant to be. I wish I could reach into his mind right now, figure out what’s going on inside his head, but the best I can hope for is that he doesn’t freak the fuck out on me right here and now, cast me out of the safe house for keeping this from them for so long. I search his expression for something, anything, to acknowledge that heunderstands the enormity of this situation and that he will do something about it.
Instead, he just turns to the door, not looking at me as he pulls it open.
“Joe—”
“I’ll bring the children upstairs, so the five of you can rest,” he tells me, his voice stripped pointedly of any emotion, like he doesn’t want to expose an inch of it to me. “Just wait here, alright?”
Not like I have anywhere else to go,I feel like shooting back at him. But I know I have no business being defensive right now, not after what I’ve just come out with. I stare after him, willing him to look back at me, but he doesn’t—and I wonder just how much of a mess I’ve made of what he thought his life was going to look like.
And how much of a chance I stand of putting the pieces back together now that I’ve torn them apart so suddenly.
6
DYLAN
Joe leans backagainst the door to the bedroom, making sure it’s clicked shut before he follows me back downstairs to join the rest of the guys. I can tell from the look on his face that there’s something heavy in his head, and given the stakes here, I don’t know if I want to find out exactly what that might be.
But we don’t exactly have a choice.
Angelie is resting upstairs, her four toddlers curled up around her as she gets them fed and comfortable for the night. She hardly spoke as we brought them up to her, not making eye contact with any of us, like there’s something heavy hanging in the air that she can’t bear to mention.
The second Joe emerged into the main living space once more, I could tell that he had asked her the question, the one that’s on all of our minds—and I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the answer.
“She okay?” Carlisle asks bluntly, and Joe nods, not missing a beat.
“Fine,” he replies, leaning against the door, arms crossed, eyes staring off into space. I know him well enough to be able to tellthat something is stressing him out. He’s usually the first to take the weight off his feet when he’s able, something I’ve always teased him about—him being the oldest of the group and acting like a damn grandpa half the time. But right now, he looks like the tension might tear him apart from the inside out, and I don’t know how much longer he can keep it to himself.
“Did you ask her?” Callum demands, and I shoot my brother a look, not sure if I’m relieved that he’s come out with it or annoyed that we won’t be able to dodge the answer any longer.
Joe grimaces, but then he nods. “Yeah,” he admits. “I asked her.”
A rush of tension fills the room. Callum and I exchange a glance. I don’t know what answer he’s hoping to hear, but I’m hoping he’s better equipped to handle whatever it might be than I am. Even as I stand here, I feel like my head might burst with the enormity of the situation.
