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“Lucian? Lucian, are you even listening to me?”
Lucian turned to his father, so much frailer than the giant he once was. Now, Lucian was the giant, yet that brought him no comfort in moments like this.
He did the math. His father was about his age when he’d given him that load of crap about love and called it advice, using his age as a reference point on wisdom. Lucian had no answers, likely because everything he knew of emotion and the human heart was stilted, being that this man beside him was the only male role model he had growing up.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
His father frowned. “I said you can talk to me. I’m your father. I want to be here for you.”
Not good enough. His mind played over all of the bullshit his father had spouted over the last couple of decades. This man truly believed that lulling a person into a sense of comfort, getting them to bare their soul, was only a means to an end. He was the python of manipulation, seemingly still but large, waiting until the precise moment to sink its teeth into its prey, strangled it slowly, and swallow it whole.
Lucian shook his head. He had to get out of there. He was being sucked in, and he was smarter than that. “That’s not going to work for me, Christos.”
He didn’t let his father’s surprised expression interfere with his exit this time. He stood. “My days of being a sucker ended a long time ago. Find someone else to buy into your bullshit.”
He hated that the man looking back at him was not the arrogant, heartless giant from his memories, but an older, withered version, sharing the same eyes and nose.
“You don’t mean that,” his father rasped, eyes unblinking, face crestfallen.
Lucian wasn’t sure what he meant, but he couldn’t make a decision like that while his head was a mess and he was working on six hours of jet lag. His dad never had empty sleeves. That was what he spent his life observing, learning. There was always an ulterior motive with him, a way to climb on the weak and slither to the top. He would not be another stepping-stone for this man.
“I gotta go.”
“Lucian,” he pleaded.
He twisted again, this time angry and needing someone to unleash on. Why not let his father have it? He’d taken his abuse for years. Let the old man see how it felt when someone bigger pushed him down. Better he take the brunt of his wrath than his blameless employees. At least with Christos, he could peg some of the blame. Perhaps he was why Lucian could never have a healthy relationship.
“What?” he shouted, and his father sunk back in his chair. “What could you possibly have to say to me? That you love me? No, never that! You don’t love. You find hate a better-suited emotion for advancement. Well, how’s this? I hate you. I’ve hated you since I was a boy and you’re so heartless and single-minded you nurtured that hate, taught me to harness it. I don’t know how to feel anything else for you. I can barely make sense of my emotions because you taught me to hide them. I don’t want to hide them anymore. But you know what, Dad? When I see you I feel more than hate. I feel sadness. I pity you. You have three children and don’t know a thing about a single one of us.
“You think you’re the only one with problems? I could give you a list of problems we’ve worked through over the years—without you! We don’t need you, and if you suddenly feel the need for family, well, I can’t help you. You pushed us all away years ago. So I really don’t know how to comfort you through these moments. I’ve never known how to comfort you.”
He was breathing heavy, waiting for his father to yell back, but he only stared at him like he was some sort of a monster. He uttered an oath. When he couldn’t take that look in his father’s eyes another moment, he snapped, “Say something!”
Christos cleared his throat, but his voice remained a hoarse rasp. “What do you want me to say, Lucian? That you’re right? Okay, you’re right. I was a shitty father and I know even less about raising children today than I did then. Truth be told, you all scared the piss out of me. You were so damn small and delicate. I was afraid I’d break you all. I thought when you got older . . . But by then the bonds were already there. Your mother was the nurturer. I was the provider. I wish I had an explanation for you, but I don’t.”
Lucian shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight, unsure of what to do or say.
