Walk the Edge (Thunder Road, #2)(94)

“She died on impact,” Eli says. “Your dad stayed at the clubhouse talking with her while the rest of us tore off to try to catch up. She told your dad that they were coming up beside her. Our best guess is that they tried to cut her off at the bridge to force her out of the car and that’s when she went over. Maybe she lost control of the car. Maybe she saw that as her best chance at life. I’m sorry, but we don’t know.”

Fear. My mother’s last emotion was fear. My fingers tunnel in my hair and I pull, hoping the physical pain can somehow wipe this internal agony away. “Why not tell me? Why lie to me about how she died?”

“You were ten,” Dad says like he’s experiencing the same pain. “When I walked in Olivia’s house with your mother’s blood on my hands, I went down the hallway and found you on that bed with your friends and with your arm slung over that dog. You looked peaceful. I couldn’t wake you and look you in the eye and tell you that I f*cking failed you. That your mother died because some * club ran her off the road and I failed to protect her.”

I thrust back the seat so that I’m no longer at the table and settle my elbows on my legs. My foot begins to bounce on the floor as the sadness and anger within me builds to the brink of explosion. “But I’m not ten anymore. I haven’t been ten for a long time.”

“No, son, you haven’t, but there were eight other names on that list and we had to make sure no one would suffer the same fate as your mother. We did what needed to be done and we secured everyone’s safety. Olivia, Rebecca—the two women you loved the most after your mother would have been next.”

It’s not an answer and this insanity that has always crawled along my skin demands the truth. “I spent eight years of my life thinking she left me on purpose. Eight years of thinking I wasn’t enough.”

“We didn’t know that’s what you thought. We—”

“Bullshit,” I shout. “That’s f*cking bullshit, and you know it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dad collapses back in his seat. “Because I promised not to.”

“Because the board told you not to?” I demand.

A muscle in his jaw jerks and his eyes pierce me. “Because the last words your mother said to me were to make sure you never joined the club, and if I couldn’t promise her that, that I never tell you what happened, because she knew me.”

He pounds his hand to his chest. “She knew how broken I was on the inside. She knew how f*cking crazy I’d become after her death, and she didn’t want those demons inside you. She knew what I would do if she died, and she sure as hell didn’t want you to grow up and become the dead man I am. She begged me before she went off that bridge to make sure this war did not become generational. You and I both know that if I told you, that if you grew up knowing that the Riot was responsible for your mother’s death, this entire club would be at war. She knew that when you became old enough, you would be leading the charge.”

“It’s too late.” All the anger, all the pain pours out. “I’m already dead. There’s nothing inside me. The first time someone told me she chose death over life, I died and it’s too damned late for me now.”

“That’s not true.” Dad’s expression turns into a plea. “Maybe it was, but I’ve been watching you. Over the past few weeks it’s like seeing you reborn. The boy who loved his mother. The boy who laughed when his mother laughed, I’ve seen him.”

I’m shaking my head. “It’s not me. It’s being around Breanna. She loves me, but I’m still dying.” Every second of every day, I’m still withering.

“This girl may love you, but you had to alter something inside you for the changes we’re seeing. Someone’s love can only hold together broken pieces for so long. The glue, that’s you—and I’ve been witnessing you piece yourself back together.”

It sure as hell doesn’t feel like I’m on the mend. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not, because I’ve loved you and so have half the people in this club and we’ve never been enough. She might love you, but you’re happy because you’re loving her back.”

“I’ve loved you back.”

“You haven’t,” he says with finality. “Not fully. You can’t fully love someone unless you trust them and you have never trusted any of us.”

He leaves it unsaid that I somehow found a way to trust Breanna, but not them. It’s like I’m on a forsaken merry-go-round. The ride starts. The ride stops. We never go anywhere but in circles. I slump forward, too heavy to hold myself up. Too heavy to continue to shoulder all the shit that constantly tears me apart. “She’s never lied to me.”

“You’re the same as me. We keep our promises. I made a promise to your mother and I love her enough to keep it.”

“Even if it hurt me?”

Dad contemplates the question. “Maybe I agreed with her. Maybe I decided I wanted you to grow up in peace. Maybe I couldn’t stomach watching you fall into a pit of vipers. Maybe I’m the complete bastard you think me to be.”

Everything that’s been said whirls in my brain and the insanity I’ve fought for so long pulses as it longs to be released. “Did whoever send Mom over that bridge—did he pay for his sins?”