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My mother stood and walked over to me. “But everything will be okay. We’ll make sure it is, okay?”
And all I could do was nod, thankful that I had at least one person on my side.
Chapter Seven
Sutton
One year later
The cab came to a stop in front of my parents’ house and for a moment I just sat there, frozen in the past, remembering each and every day inside those four walls. I’d only been gone a year, but damn, it had felt like an eternity.
I handed the driver some cash and climbed out, the plastic bag with the few belongings I’d left with a reminder of where I’d been the last twelve months. I guess I could’ve counted myself lucky that I’d only gotten a year.
Michael could’ve pushed for longer.
His father could’ve been harder on me.
That’s what I told myself anyway, reminding myself so I didn’t go over there and finish that job, beating his ass for all the shit he put me through. For all the shit he’d taken away from me.
I headed inside, knowing I needed to get this over with. I saw my father and stepmother’s cars in the driveway, knew that keeping them away this past year probably wasn’t the best, but also knowing that I hadn’t wanted them where I was, Catherine either.
I thought about knocking at first, but said fuck it. I turned the handle and pushed the door open. Everything looked the same, smelled the same. I heard someone in the kitchen, so after setting my bag on the floor, I headed in that direction.
I stopped when I saw my stepmother standing by the sink. I brought my knuckles down on the wood frame of the entryway and she looked over her shoulder. She smiled, faced me, and was in front of me only a second later. She embraced me, her body so small compared to mine, the scent of lemons and dish soap filling my head. It reminded me of happiness, of before I was in that fight, before I was pulled away from Catherine.
“It’s so good to see you again, Sutton.”
I hugged her back and closed my eyes.
It had felt longer than twelve months.
It had felt like an eternity.
I pulled back and smiled, feeling love for Rochelle. Since my own mother had passed away when I was younger, Rochelle was as close to a mom as I’d ever really gotten, even in the short time we’d been in each other’s lives. I felt someone approach behind me and knew without turning around that it was my father.
Rochelle gently patted my chest and gave me another smile before walking past me and leaving us alone. I turned and faced my father, the man who was always so stern and rough, so hardened and strict. But despite all of that I still got into trouble, and now had a year on my record.
We didn’t speak for several moments and finally I exhaled slowly, knowing that I needed to just get this over with. I was sure he had plenty to say to me, shit about how he was disappointed in me, how I’d ruined my life, how I should’ve thought about the repercussions.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he took a step forward, making the words lodge in my throat. And before I knew what was happening, he had me pulled into an embrace. He brought his palm down on my shoulder, giving me a loving pat, a masculine gesture that to him showed his affection.
I was stunned, shocked that he wasn’t berating me in this moment.
He pulled back, his hand still holding my bicep as he looked into my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice deep, emotion clear in it.
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. He took a step back, lifted his hand up, and rubbed it over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for not believing in you more. I’m sorry that I was always on your ass about everything. I’m sorry for a lot of shit, Sutton.” He glanced away and cleared his throat, as if this were hard on him. “But I’m most sorry for not being a better father.”
Out of all the ways this moment had played out in my head, this certainly hadn’t been something I’d expected. I opened and closed my mouth a few times because I didn’t know what the hell to say to that.
“After you were sent away a lot of shit came to light, none of which would have helped your situation, but things that told me you weren’t to blame for a lot of shit.” He hung his head for a moment, the silence thick. “And I wanted to come visit so many times, but after I was told you didn’t want anyone there, well…” he said and ran his hand over his face, the days’ worth of scruff covering his cheeks and jaw. “I told myself from that point on I’d work at being a better father. I need to be because…” He didn’t finish his sentence and I felt my brows lower. “I just know that things need to be different. After your mother passed away it was hard for you. I know that. Maybe that’s why you acted out. I don’t know.” He smiled, a genuine one. “But what I do know is that none of that matters anymore. Family is what’s important.”
