“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I mumble, fumbling with my seat belt.
“What?”Ozzy asks, bristling as he searches for threats, but Ares beats him to it.
His hand snakes out faster than lightning, wrapping around my wrist in a bruising grip. “Don’t. I’m begging you, brother; nothing good will come of it. Don’t do this to yourself.”
I jerk my arm away, slamming my way out of the car so abruptly I’m surprised the door is still on its hinges. They’ve disappeared into the crowd, but they can’t have gone far.
Shouldering my way past people, I can’t bother with trying to be invisible, not right now. With the way my heart is thundering, I have no doubt they can already hear me coming. They know, they just don’t fucking care.
“Grace.”
She turns, blonde hair tumbling down to her waist and bright blue eyes that haunt me every day in the damn mirror. Try as I might to forget and move on, those fucking bright blue eyes stare back like a constant reminder.
“May I help you?” she asks in confusion, the two men at her side rising to their full heights and defensive.
My breathing is heavy, rage clogging my throat and making speaking damn near impossible. I just stand there glaring daggers at all three of them, my anger rising with every passing second.
“Wait…Cole?” Nick asks and it’s just another punch to the gut.
“Yeah, Cole. Excuse the hell out of me for assuming you’d recognize your son. It’s only been what? Twenty years? But who’s counting, right?”
Jake shifts awkwardly, looking off to the side. He and Nick have matching black hair and similar features, being actual brothers, so we never knew for sure which of them is my biological father, but it doesn’t even matter. All three of them agreed to abandon me, so why would I even want to know? It wouldn’t change anything.
Grace puts her hand on Nick’s arm, acting all timid. “Is that really any way to speak to your mother?”
I spit on the ground at her feet. “You don’t get to call yourself that.”
“Easy there, Cole,” Nick warns and I fuckinghopehe hits me. Wouldn’t be the first time, but I’m far better equipped to handle it now.
“Why?” I snap, throwing my arms out at my sides, ignoring the countless looks being thrown our way in the middle of the sidewalk.
Grace scoffs. “You’re still just as obnoxious as ever. You always were an emotional thing. We weren’t ready to be parents; especially to a handful like you. Isn’t that reason enough?”
You, you, you. Always my fault.
“It wasn’t like I was a baby you left on someone’s porch, I was fuckingseven! You couldn’t even look me in the face to say you were leaving; you just didn’t come back. Do you have any idea how long I sat in that godforsaken trash heap we called a house before going to look for help? That I thought you must’ve been in an accident or something and that’s why you never came home?”
Tears burn the back of my eyes as my voice steadily rises, but I refuse to give them that satisfaction. “How long I waited for you to come back or at least send a goddamn letter explaining why you left?”
My chest is heaving as they stand there, Jake the only one decent enough to at least look guilty. He refuses to look my way, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably, but he’s just as much to blame as the other two. Grace clings to Nick like a pathetic victim and Nick just stands there stoically, waiting for their embarrassment of an offspring to stop having a tantrum.
“Feel better getting that off your chest?” Nick asks in a smooth, even tone that just makes we want to vomit at the memories it dredges up.
“No,” I laugh humorlessly, scrubbing a hand down my face. “But it wouldn’t even matter if it did, would it?”
He shrugs a single shoulder, apathetic. “Not particularly.”
I huff, torn between wanting to burst into tears or vomit. “None of you regret it, do you? Wouldn’t go back and change a single fucking thing?”
Grace brushes her hair over her shoulder, putting a hand on her hip indignantly. “You turned out well enough, right? So why are you complaining? We didn’t even want kids; you were an accident. But I tried, okay? And the baby thing was hard enough, but everyone promised it got easier. But not you; constantly clinging to my leg, or asking for shit. I gave it years waiting for things to get better, but they never did. Is it any surprise I finally snapped? It took me weeks before I was finally starting to feel likemeagain.”
I look at the woman that birthed me, but I just feel…nothing, anymore. Rage at the situation, years of heartache and issues a therapist would sell their left arm to get a hold of, sure. But the people themselves? I don’t miss any of them in the slightest, just what they represent.
Not bothering with another word, I turn on my back on them and walk back towards my actual family. It doesn’t feel good, or even the slightest bit cathartic to be the one to abandon them this time; it just hurts, so goddamn much.
They don’t call my name, or ask me to wait while they beg my forgiveness. Every fantasy I’ve had over the last couple of decades crumbles apart as if my dreams were constructed of nothing but sand.
I climb into the truck, silently looking ahead to see them long gone. They couldn’t even be bothered to act upset for a few measly minutes and I’m just so…defeated.
