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“So it’s my fault now?” Killian barks out cruel laughter, then it dies out as abruptly as it started. “Wow, Mom, I feel gaslighted right now and that definitely doesn’t look good on you.”
“Do you not remember how you stopped spending time with your father? You even stopped hugging him in greeting and often left the table first.” She softens her voice.
“That’s because he prefers his golden boy.”
“Not true,” Gareth says. “Whenever we invited you to come along, you refused.”
“Forgive me if I don’t like spending time with a father who never wanted me.”
“Killian,” I call, and he slowly faces me, jaw set.
He thinks we’re going to war again, that this will be another fight and I’ll assert my parental position by suppressing him again.
I place a hand on his shoulder and he tenses, ready for the jab or whatever he thinks I’ll do.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes widen a little, which is about the only reaction he shows, but before he can think about it further, I continue.
“I didn’t realize my words, as impulsive as they were, would have this effect on you and I apologize for not looking further into the reason you methodically cut off your relationship with me. But if it’s any consolation, it’s not about your person, son. Your behavior reminded me of painful memories and the young bitter me, and I reacted badly to that. It’s not your fault, it’s completely mine. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better father figure to you.”
Reina cries silently and Gareth holds her shoulder, hugging her to his side.
Killian narrows his eyes, but the stiffness has vanished. “You apologized twice.”
“So?”
“You’ve never apologized before. Not to anyone.”
“I did to your mother once, and I’m doing it again to my son. My family members are the only ones I’ll apologize to when an apology is due. And, Kill?”
“Yeah?”
“You and Gareth aren’t different in my eyes, not even a little. I’m only harsher with you because your character is harsher.”
He shrugs. “Gareth can be a pain in the ass, too. You just don’t see it.”
“Hey!” my eldest son protests.
Reina smiles with tears in her eyes and rubs his chest. “I want a family hug.”
And then she pulls us all in a hug, because she can be sentimental like that. All three of us would rather not do this, but if there’s anything we agree on, it’s our care for this woman.
She can make me and our boys burn a whole town for her by just saying the words.
Then she hugs Kill individually, basically strangling him, considering his expression, then whispers something in his ear.
For the first time ever, his features soften and he looks like that six-year-old boy who used to sit on a swing and stare into space like an old man.
“What are you looking at, Kill?” I asked him once.
He sighed with the exasperation of a person who’s seen it all. “How boring everything is. How do I make it less boring, Dad?”
I should’ve known by then that we had a special kid on our hands. Someone who didn’t need the world, or even us.
There’s no doubt in my mind that if he was on his own, he’d live just fine, maybe even be freer than he is right now. He wouldn’t have to worry about hiding his true self or repressing his urges for my and his mother’s sake.
He’d be a true monster and would probably get away with it for a while before he eventually got locked up.
