“Hudson.” A familiar voice calls to me, pulling me from my conversation with the guys.
It’s been a long week away from my woman and the last thing I want to do is have a heart to heart with my old man. All I want to do is enjoy my beer, celebrate with the guys, and then head home.
“How’d you find me?” I turn, giving my dad a nod in acknowledgment but failing to deliver more. I’m out with my brothers after a somewhat successful retrieval, and to say that I’m a little shocked at seeing my father at an old bar like this is an understatement.
“I might’ve had a little help.” He looks behind me and toward Titus.
I look toward my best friend, second guessing his status in my life. What in the world would possess him to buddy-up with my dad. He knows the type of relationship we have.
Shooting Titus a death glare, I mouth, ‘what the fuck.’
“Just hear the man out.” Pity swims deep in his eyes and that in and of itself is jarring. “He made a valid plea I think you’ll be interested in.”
Looking back at my father, I nod toward the exit, suggesting we catch some fresh air for this conversation. If it has Titus looking at me like my favorite puppy got kicked, then it can’t be good.
That man doesn’t do emotions. At least not openly.
Nodding, Dad follows me, silence stretching with every step. The reprieve from his words is welcomed, but it’s quickly snatched away as soon as the chilly night air hits my face.
Like a bucket of cold water, his words land on me, chilling me to the bone. “You can’t fuck her, Hudson. Anyone but her.”
“What the hell?” I growl, whirling around to face the man who’s tried to control every facet of my life from the date I was born. “You cannot tell me who I can and cannot get involved with. I’m a grown ass man and I don’t live under your roof anymore.”
His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “She’s still a child. If for some ill-fated reason you got her pregnant, you’d be ruining her life.”
He spits out those words with so much disgust it almost makes me feel dirty. Almost.
Yes, I’ve thought of the possibility of getting Alyssa pregnant. And yes, the same concern of her age has crossed my mind.
But every time I end up with the same conclusion. She wouldn’t want for anything, not even if she ended up with child.
Alyssa is surrounded by people who love her and who would love nothing more than to help her with our baby. Myself included. I’d never let her live an unfulfilled life. Baby or not.
“She’s a woman, not a child. She may be eighteen but she’s more of a woman than most.” My mind kicks back to Julie, the manipulative bitch who was selfish beyond belief. Alyssa is nothing like her, not even close. “She’s brilliant, caring, and fiercely loyal. And despite how much money you lavish her with, she’s still down to earth and humble. It’s a miracle she even lets Rosa cook for her! Do you know how rare that is in our world?”
“Yes, she’s all those things. But she’s not for you. Anyone but her, Hudson.” He looks pained, as if he’s sorry for placing this restriction on our relationship. But the idea of him feeling guilt is absurd.
“What is this really about? Is it because it weirds you out that she’s your stepdaughter? Because I’ll tell you here and now, I don’t give a fuck what you or anyone else thinks about that.”
My dad runs a hand across his face, his chest expanding on an audible inhale. “She’s not your stepsister,” he mumbles into his hand. Meanwhile, my face contorts into one of serious confusion.
“What? What are you talking about? You married her mom, ergo you are her stepfather, and that makes me her stepbrother.”
“No, Hudson. She’s not your stepsister. She’s your half-sister.”
My ears ring and my mouth goes dry. No. This can’t be true. “You’re full of shit. You’re saying this so I won’t go near your little princess.”
“You’re right about one thing. She is my little princess. Always has been.” He sticks his hand inside his coat pocket, retrieving a worn piece of paper that’s been folded over one too many times.
With a shaking hand I reach out and grab it, as if its mere existence holds the power to bring me to my knees.
And I suppose it does.
Slowly, I peel the pages open, revealing what looks to be a paternity test with both my father’s and Alyssa’s name on it.
As soon as my eyes land on the 99.9765% my vision blurs, the pounding in my head intensifying. This can’t be fucking true. It just can’t.
A hand lands on my shoulder, gripping me upright. “I’m sorry, Son. I should have told you from the beginning.”
Would it have made a difference, though? Would this knowledge have kept me from falling flat on my ass over Alyssa?
Her laughs, her smiles, her goddamn attitude. It all would have pulled me in, and I’d be living in constant hell, lusting after what I could never have.
Now, at least I can say I’ve tasted her. But, fuck, does this change everything. She’s my own blood. We could never be.
My chest aches with this realization.
It’s like my heart has been ripped out of me, right on the side of this dark and dank road.
Life has left me. I’m a shell. Empty with no purpose.
“How? You were still with mom when Alyssa was born. How did this happen?” I blink my eyes, looking up at the man who’s to blame. Had he not slept with Alyssa’s mother, she wouldn’t be his daughter… but then she wouldn’t be here, and that’s a blow I could never bear.
My dad shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Lynora was our maid’s daughter. She didn’t live on the property, but she came around enough to be tempting.”
Fuck. No wonder she always looked familiar. My eyes narrow on the man who’s held onto this lie for god knows how long. “When did you find out she was yours?”
“A little over three years ago. Lynora came to see me, asking for a job. She said she never meant to be an imposition, which is why she never told me about the baby. That she didn’t want to be the reason my marriage fell apart, but now that your mother was gone…” He looks away, at least having the decency to look ashamed for having cheated on my ailing mother. “That she felt comfortable enough to ask for help. Not in the way of a handout or child support, but in the way of a job.”
“And you believed her? This woman comes back, a blast from your past, begging for work and you just believe her?” I look down at the paper, wondering if this shit is even real.
It’s no secret women have tried to snag men with babies. Exhibit one, Julie. I wouldn’t put it past Lynora to make something up out of desperation.
“The timeline was right. Based on Alyssa’s age and when we’d been… fooling around, it wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility.” My father’s harsh tone cuts into my thoughts, his face getting redder by the second. It’s obvious he finds his admission about as pleasant as a cactus up the ass. “I’m not an idiot. I asked her to do a paternity test, and that’s when we confirmed what she suspected was true. Alyssa Rogers should have really been Alyssa Maxwell.”
This is too much. This is all too damn much.
Grief struck me down on my knees, but this is not who I am. I’ve never taken shit at face value and I refuse to start now.
I won’t believe any of this until I see the paternity test happening right before me.
I love Alyssa with all of my heart and soul. There’s no way in fucking hell I’m giving up on us now. Not until all shred of doubt has been obliterated, leaving me a miserable fucked up shell of a man.
With bitter determination, I make my way through the front door of my Dallas home. I need to find Alyssa and tell her the bullshit lies her mother’s been spewing. Have my girl deny it all and tell me that her mom is full of nothing but deceit, just like Julie.
I rip through the home, unable to find her anywhere. She’s nowhere in sight. I walk into her bathroom, hoping to catch her in all of her naked glory, but the room is devoid of her.
I’m about to step back out when something in the trash bin catches my eye. Holy fuck. Is that what I think it is?
My feet trudge slowly, as if they were walking through a vat of cement. Each step weighing more the closer I get to the bin.
A week ago, my heart would’ve been soaring with joy. But now…now there’s a pound of concrete sitting deep in my stomach.
I pick up the stick that holds confirmation of my suspicion. We never used protection, and I bucked into her like getting Alyssa pregnant was my only mission in life.
Fuck me. It looks like I’ve succeeded.
I fall to my knees for the second time in twenty-four hours. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
As much as I’ve been in denial about the whole situation, the positive sign on the test before me can’t be ignored.
Guilt rips through me at the thought of our incestuous acts creating a life that is less than one hundred percent healthy. Isn’t that what they say happens when siblings fuck?
A shudder of revulsion cuts through me and I pitch forward, heaving the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Over and over, I empty until it’s pure vile coming up from the depths of my aching soul.
What have I done?
