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“That’s not true. How could you say that?”
“I didn’t, Cleo,” he continued, looking at the house now. He faced me. “He basically just did.”
I… I couldn’t believe that, not for a second could I believe that. I knew that man.
I knew his father.
“Now, get away from my car,” he spat, growing three sizes in front of me. He smoldered. “And back the fuck up off me.”
He did enough backing away for us both, leaving everything when he dodged inside his car. He slammed the door, and I did get out of his way this time.
I wasn’t sure if he’d actually stop.
He seemed gung-ho on getting the hell away from me as soon as he could, his engine wild in the air when he wheeled down the driveway and screeched into traffic. He shifted, then peeled away with nothing but a smell of charred rubber cloaking the air, but I wasn’t just going to stand there and not do something.
I rushed back inside the house, looking for my adoptive father. He needed to fix this… whatever this shit was he needed to fix because something was wrong and Jaxen believed he wasn’t his son. I didn’t know what that meant. That made no sense.
“Where’s Dad?”
Mom had been sitting in the living room, her legs crossed and staring at the wall. She uncrossed them. “His office. Why—”
I made a beeline in that direction, not even announcing myself when I went inside. Dad was standing at the window, staring outside. He had clear view of the driveway, no doubt had seen Jax and me completely.
“Why does Jaxen feel like he isn’t your son?”
“Cleo?” Mom had followed me in, reaching for me, but I moved away from her and over to my dad. He hadn’t shifted, not one inch from the window, and on his side of the desk, I saw he did have a clear view of the driveway. He’d watched the whole thing play out, had to have.
My lips parted. “Why does Jaxen think that? Why would he say that? Did you hear what he said?”
A head nod, but that’s all he gave me.
I shook my head. “Dad—”
“Cleo,” Mom urged, coming around the desk too. “This is not the time.”
“Then when is?” I whipped around in her direction. “When are you guys going to talk to me?”
Her face fell. “I told you. This is between Rick and Jaxen.”
“Well, Jaxen doesn’t feel like he has a father.” I faced Dad. “Jaxen thinks he’s not your son. He thinks I have it all. That you’re my family and not his.”
Dad’s brow furrowed, his hands cuffing his arms. “I heard him,” he said, finally facing me. His eyes had completely glassed. Like he was five seconds way from letting tears fall when not once had I ever seen such a thing. This man had been so strong, strong my whole life.
But this?
This was breaking him down, this was torturing him.
He frowned. “Jaxen is my son, but the fact that he doesn’t feel like he is? Well, he’s not wrong.”
Not… wrong?
“I didn’t do right by him,” he said. “I abandoned him. I left him. I apologized, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to know why, and when I couldn’t tell him what he needed, he left.”
My face fell. “Well, why couldn’t you tell him what he needed?”
Mom touched me. “Cleo—”
“No, why couldn’t you tell him what he needed? Why does he think you don’t care and abandoned him?”
