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“Why the fuck do you think he does shit like this?” My father’s voice echoes through the house.
I can see him now. Pacing back and forth in his study, my mom sitting in the corner chair with her nose turned in the air like he’s to blame for everything and she’s never done anything wrong in her life.
They’re fucking delusional—both of them.
If I could strive to be one thing in life it would be to be the polar opposite of both of my parents’. There’s a reason I want complete control over my future, because any future where they’re involved in is a future I don’t want to be a part of.
I’ve spent too many years trying to please them, be the son I thought they wanted. Not anymore. Hell, I don’t give a shit if they hate me at this point, which given their current argument I would guess is a distinct possibility.
“You tell me, you’re his father.” My mom’s voice comes out calm but laced with bitterness. I’m sure it’s killing her to even be sitting in the same room as the man she’s married to.
Why they’re still together is beyond me. I can’t imagine staying with someone I couldn’t stand to be around for more than five minutes.
Tess’s face instantly flashes through my mind, and the sickening feeling in my stomach tightens. The way she looked at me as I was leaving the office, like she didn’t know whether to be sorry or feel sorry for me. I hate that I put that look there. I hate that I made her feel like she was somehow responsible for the way I went at Dylan.
Truth be told, I really didn’t think it through.
I saw him grab her arm and all I saw was red. I don’t even know what they were saying to each other when I reared back and cocked him right in the face. Once the first contact was made, I couldn’t stop.
All I could think is that he hurt her, he continues to try to hurt her, and all I wanted to do was hurt him in return.
I don’t regret fucking up his face for even a second, but I do regret how it all went down and how I left Tess standing in that office like she was seconds away from bursting into tears.
Had my father not taken my phone the second we left school, I would’ve already called her to reassure her that none of this was her fault. I know she’s probably blaming herself, and it fucking kills me that I can’t do anything to reassure her right now.
“Don’t pin this on me!” my father roars, pulling me back to the argument taking place in the next room over. “You’re his mother. You’re the one who couldn’t wait to have children when in all reality you just wanted to tighten the fucking noose around my neck.”
“As if you’re any better. Traveling all the time, disappearing with your little whores for days on end. Do you blame me for never wanting to be here?”
“Because you want for so much. Why the fuck did I move my firm halfway across the country? Why did I buy you this big expensive house? So you could spend allmymoney going to spas and fucking spirit retreats that are more like male-themed whore houses. Fuck all your problems away, do they?”
“Fuck you, Jonathan. You did this for you. Don’t for one second pretend like this wasn’t all about you. I didn’t want to come here. Sebastian didn’t want to come here. But we did anyway.Youdragged us halfway across the country for whatyoucould get out of it. Let’s not pretend like it was for any other reason.” My mother’s voice never changes.
Happy or sad, mad or elated—she always has the same dry tone. I think it’s because she doesn’t actually feel real emotion anymore. Trust me—if you knew even the half of the shit show that is this family, you’d know I’m right.
“Watch your mouth, Lydia. You may think you’re untouchable, but this is still my fucking house.”
“Ourhouse,” she corrects him calmly, not missing a beat.
“Well, if you want it to stay that way you better do something aboutyourson,” he retorts, a snarl in his voice.
“I don’t know what you want me to do with him.”
I know my father told me to stay put, but at this point, I have no desire to listen to this shit any longer. They’ll probably be at this for hours anyway. That’s typically how it goes. They’ll spend weeks not speaking to one another and then once they are forced to be in the same room together, everything boils over.
Making a beeline for the foyer, I grab my car keys from the side table before pushing my way through the door.
The alarm beeps twice the second it swings open, and I wait for a moment to make sure no one heard it. True to his nature, my father is too busy continuing his lecture to my mother about what an awful son she’s raised to even notice.
Quietly closing the door behind me, I hop in the black Alfa Romeo my dad bought me less than three months ago—another attempt to keep me happy and quiet. I guess he figures if he gives me whatever I want that it will somehow make up for the fact that he’s a sorry ass excuse for a dad.
I usually prefer my Jeep anyway, but considering it’s still sitting in the school parking lot where my father insisted we leave it, I don’t really have a choice. I’m sure it will be back in the driveway before morning. My father will no doubt send one of his minions over to pick it up.
The second I slide behind the wheel, I fire the engine to life and take off like a bat out of hell. The further I get away from this fucking house the better.
I know exactly where I’m going without even thinking about it—because there’s only one person I want to see.
Tess.
