“Things weren’t any better when he could work,” I point out. “We were dirt fucking poor then too, remember? Only difference is he was also beating the shit out of us.”
Ma flinches as if stung by a wasp. “That’s enough.”
“You sure? ’Cuz from where I’m standing, nothing’s changed. You’re still making excuses for him?—”
“Don’t you dare speak on your father!” she snarls, her shrill voice rising. “You don’t have a right to disrespect him after all the harm you’ve caused!”
“I seem to remember the harm he caused us first!”
“Your father did the best he could! He tried to do right by us, but you were a hot-headed hoodlum looking for a fight!”
“Looking for a fight?” I scoff out of disbelief. “He was beating your fucking ass—did you forget that part?”
“We want nothing from you!” she shrieks, a couple stringy hairs falling loose from her bun. She jerks a finger at the door. “Get the hell out of our home and take your lady friend with you!”
My usual scowl returns to my face, my hands flexing open and shutat my sides.
This isn’t the first—and probably won’t be the last—time I’ve been thrown out like this. It’s happened at least twice when dropping by for Christmas.
Ma usually reaches out at a later date to make amends.
But glaring at her now, the frustration inside me finally reaches a boiling point. I’ve had enough of trying to do right by her, simply out of guilt I haven’t done right by her as a son.
She may not ever agree… but I did what I did out of protectiveness. Out of thelovea son has for his mother and sister.
“Alright,” I grit out. My tone’s cold. Final. “Keep the flowers. I’m done.”
I scoop Jhene’s hand in mine and head for the door.
We make it all the way to the curb before I draw my next breath. It comes out raggedly as I let go of Jhene’s hand and stride around to the driver’s side door. She slides in on the passenger side, quiet as a mouse. So quiet I assume she won’t weigh in.
Then she surprises me by doing just that.
“So…” she says slowly. “That was... intense.”
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That was nothing. You should see Christmas.”
She winces. “There’s a Christmas version of that?”
“Just about every year. Same argument. Different wrapping paper.”
I grip the steering wheel tight and lean forward to brace my brow against it for a second. Pausing for a moment to allow the last remnants of anger and frustration—and even some guilt—to pass.
“You should know,” she says softly, “I think she’s wrong.”
My head lifts from the steering wheel, my gaze sliding over to her. She goes on.
“Your heart was in the right place when you did what youdid. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, Killian, it’s that you’re a protector. You’re not the kind of guy who stands around and lets somebody else get hurt if you can stop it. You love your mom and sister—of course you got in to defend them.”
“Yeah… well… maybe I took it too far. Truth be told, I don’t remember any of it. Not beyond walking in the door and seeing what I saw.” I close my eyes and swallow against the knot in my throat. “There was so much fucking blood, Jhene. Mom’s eye socket… her face… I don’t know what would’ve happened that night if I hadn’t blacked out the way I did.”
“Honestly? It sounds like she would’ve been the vegetable, not him.Ifshe even survived.”
“Yet she resents me for it. Sixteen fucking years, and she’s never forgiven me.”
Jhene reaches out and touches my arm. “Abusive relationships are complicated. Your mom… has a blind loyalty to your father. It doesn’t matter that he used to hurt her. That he could’ve killed her—or her kids. Her head is messed up, and she’s convinced herself that’s love.”
“Guess it explains why I’m so fucked in the head. What kind of person wants to fight for a living?”
