Page 198 of Ruptured

“Fuck,” Mort said, sighing. “How we telling Meggie girl?”

Christopher snapped to attention, Wilcunt’s words stuck on repeat in his head.Rule jumped out of a window.

His anger and guilt rushing back, Christopher zeroed in on the flowers, snatched the bouquet from Digger and pitched that motherfucker, not flinching at the shattering of the expensive vase.

Just fucking furious all over again.

Ryan knocked once on the door of the bedroom Johnnie directed him to.

“Come in.”

Opening the door, Ryan walked into the room.

“The glare is hurting my eyes. Close the door and have aseat.”

“I can’t see anything,” Ryan countered after he slammed the door shut and threw the room into total darkness. “It’s pitch black in here.”

Sheets rustled. A moment later, the bedside lamp flared to life, revealing Johnnie. Unkempt, unshaven, dark circles around his reddened eyes.

Ryan noted a folding chair next to the wrought iron double bed. The small room had a gray fringed chenille bedspread, white walls, and simple furnishing.

Johnnie lifted a washcloth from his forehead and pointed to a little corner door. “Can you wet the towel with cold water for me?”

Frowning, Ryan took the washcloth into a sterile white bathroom and followed Johnnie’s instructions. Back in the bedroom, Johnnie lay on the bed, his puffy eyes closed. His hands rested on his stomach, one bandaged and missing fingers and the other balled into a fist.

Ryan folded the cloth, then settled it back on Johnnie’s forehead.

“Are you sick?”

“Not physically.” Johnnie remained motionless. “Sick at heart. Devastated.”

“Logan’s video?”

“I thought it was a different video. About Big Joe. Bash once mentioned…” Unable to continue, he trailed his words off and his lips trembled, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t believe…my grandfather…” His shoulders shook. “It’s all Kendall’s fault. If she didn’t stick her fucking nose in—”

“People knew of Great-Grandfather and Sharper’s relationship,” Ryan said.

Eyes wet and wild, Johnnie glared at Ryan. “You’re a fucking liar. You didn’t know Grandda as I did—”

“Something I’d lamented for a long time,” Ryan admitted. “But facts are facts. Bro was a flaming homo.”

Johnnie started sobbing again. “I don’t give a fuck who Logan fucked.” He turned a woeful gaze to Ryan. “But he was in a negligee. He worelipstick. He called Sharper ‘Daddy’—”

At least ten fucking times.

“Cum leaked out of his ass!” Johnnie wailed. “That was the man I looked up to? My entire life feels like a lie.”

“I’m sorry you’re so upset,” he said, meaning it. “Put it into perspective, though. Logan’s dead, so—”

“So I can’t confront him! I can’t ask him why he tortured Christopher for so many years but was a simpering coward who got plowed in the ass. Why did he want perfection from me and Zoann while begging his d-d-d-daddy…?” Johnnie covered his face and sobbed louder. “Why, Grandda?WHY?”

Unsure what to do, Ryan sat in the folding chair next to the bed and waited for Johnnie’s tears to subside.

Fifteen minutes later, he shut up.

“Don’t you have a headache by now, dude?”

“What do you want?”