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As he turns around, he stops, and adds, “Oh, and remember, don’t go hanging out with any of the Burrells.”
I frown. “What? Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
I guess he still hasn’t seen me with Dixie. Then again, I haven’t taken her home either. Our families don’t exactly get along, and I don’t wanna make things difficult. I’d much rather keep the peace … and her. But if my papa is going to be difficult about this, I have to clear things up right now by putting it out in the open.
“I can’t do that, sorry,” I say, scratching the back of my head.
He turns around. It’s his turn to frown now. “There are plenty of other kids you can hang out with. You have friends, don’t you? What about that Hanson guy?”
“Papa, Dixie Burrell …” I mumble. “She’s my girlfriend.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
I rub my lips and sigh. “I was going to tell you eventually.”
“When? Next year?” He raises his voice.
“No, but … soon.”
He looks like I told him I am moving out. “No.”
I grimace. “What do you mean no?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not happening.”
He thinks he has a say in this? It’s my life, and I can do what I want. I fold my arms, trying to maintain my cool. “It’s not up to you.”
“You’re my son.” He chucks the box he gave me aside. “Goddammit.”
Fuck, he never swears like that. “Papa…”
“No,” he says, pointing his finger at me. “Don’t do this, Brandon. I told you not to hang out with those Burrells, and now you’re dating one behind my back? You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“No, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say with a sarcastic tone. “Explain it to me, please, by all means.” I know I sound pissed, but that’s because I am. He has no right to decide for me. Besides, he doesn’t even know her. “Dixie is a nice girl. She doesn’t deserve all this hate.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know that family,” he responds.
“Oh, and you do?” I raise a brow.
He’s silent for a few seconds. “Don’t even try,” he says through gritted teeth after a few seconds.
He always shuts me out. As if I can’t tell he’s hiding something. “Why are you so upset with me for finally finding a girl? Finally having someone in my life I can trust and who’s there for me?”
“I’m here for you.” He marches toward me. “You can trust me, and I’m telling you that girl is not good for you.”
What the fuck? Why would he even say that? “You don’t know her like I do.”
He raises a hand. “I don’t need to, and I don’t want to.”
I ball my fist. “How can you say that?”
“I’m done with this conversation, Brandon. I told you it’s not happening, end of discussion.”
“What?” I say through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“Brandon. Quit this nonsense right now.” He doesn’t even look at me as he judges me. Us. My girl.
Fuck no. I’m not letting her slip through my fingers because of some judgmental crap between my papa and the Burrells. Their issues aren’t my problem.
Fuck him. “No,” I bark, turning around and walking off.
My papa stomps after me, placing his hand on the door. “I gave you everything. Don’t you dare walk out on me, boy.”
“Everything? Is this what you call everything? Moving towns just because you feel like it? Ruining my childhood? You’ve given me nothing but pain.”
“I did it for you,” he says, his voice seething with just as much pain as I feel inside my chest right now. “You don’t understand this now, but one day you will. I promise.”
“No. I’m done. I’m leaving,” I say, opening the door and pushing him aside.
“Brandon, you’re making a mistake.”
“Yeah, well you were too. I’m fucking eighteen years old, Papa. I don’t need you to tell me what’s good for me. I know what I want. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
I mash my lips together and bite the inside of my cheeks, waiting for him to respond.
But the words never come.
He never says he’s sorry. Never says it’s okay. Never wants me to be happy my own way.
So I rip the pendant from my neck and shove it back into his hands. “I don’t want this. And I don’t want you.”
Before he can say another word, I turn around and walk out of the shop, slamming the door shut behind me.
My face stings with the tears I refuse to shed. And fuck me, do they burn.
Chapter Eight
Brandon
Present
Age 30
My cigarette burns away fast as I stare at it. The scorching bud reminds me of the traffic lights around every corner in this city. Las Vegas, the city of lights.
The only light I care about right now is the one around my wrist that says what time it is. Only two more hours until my shift is over. Good. This day’s been boring as fuck.
