Yet somehow, I kept ending up in the same place.
Welcomed, but not really home.
Belonging, but not really theirs.
Safe…
But always at risk of losing it.
Maybe that was why I did it—why I said what I did, why I couldn’t stop myself from reacting. Deep down, maybe I was just like him. Selfishly wanting more than I already had. Cruel when I couldn’t have it.
The Barrows probably saw it all along.
How much I was just like him.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed through the front door and went inside.
Given the late hour, I hoped I might make it to my room without running into him, and I almost made it to the stairs before my father stepped into the foyer. With his tie undone anda crystal tumbler full of bourbon in his hand, it would’ve been better to sneak by unnoticed.
But I’d called it right again.
Luckwas the last thing on my side.
“Son.” My father’s bloodshot eyes were heavy lidded. “Where the fuck have you been?”
I faced him. Going down either way, I’d go down swinging. “Stargazing in a field of wildflowers, Father,” I deadpanned. “Where else?”
His gaze sharpened. “I expected you to meet some colleagues of mine at the graduation ceremony, Blake.”
“Bummer.” I snapped my fingers, swinging my hand across my body as I did. “They say you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, and boy, are they right.”
He slammed his crystal tumbler on the countertop. “You were with the Barrows again, weren’t you?”
I stiffened, narrowing my gaze on his face. “I was with my entire graduating class. Celebrating our achievement? That’s what this day was about, remember?”
Moments like that, when I didn’t bite my tongue, I looked back on them later. It had become a theme, wondering why I couldn’t stop myself. But with her, I didn’t want the reaction that followed—I just didn’t know what else to do.
With him, I often wondered if I begged for it.
If I needed what came next.
My dad’s fist connected with my jaw. His punch snapped my head to the side.
Blood filled my mouth, and I spit it onto my sleeve. “One last hurrah for my graduation. Eh, old man?”
That earned me a punch to the gut. A familiar one-two combo I’d used myself tonight.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Keeling over, I wheezed as his hit to my diaphragm knocked the wind out of me. I gasped for breath. Urging my lungs to expand. Fighting to draw in air.
And taking my eyes off him.
But I already knew what came next.
His closed fist dropped like a hammer on my spine, buckling my legs. I crashed hard to the floor, my knees hitting the ground with a crack.
Pitching forward, I braced for impact. I tried to bring my arms up to protect my face. Tried to shield it before I slammed into the ground.
