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He let me go, and I looked back at Lucas. His jaw was clenched, his posture rigid.
“We’re used to dealing with things on our own,” he said. I walked back to him, laying my hands on his tightly folded arms.
“After yesterday,” I said softly, “I think I made it clear that I consider myself a part ofwe.” His expression faltered, torn between accepting it or automatically denying it. “Weare dealing with this on our own. I’m dealing with it too.”
He looked down at me, and his face finally cracked. He shook his head with a heavy sigh.
“You’ve got to be the most hardheaded woman I’ve ever met,” he grumbled. “And I don’t think you have much sense at all trying to be so damn involved…”
“Just tell her she earned your respect and go fucking find Manson,” Jason yelled from the kitchen.
Lucas’s lips pressed tightly together. He didn’t need to say out loud what Jason had demanded. It was clear enough to me.
“Come on.” He took my hand again. “I know where he’ll go.”
51
Manson
It was shame that drove me out of the house. Shame for falling apart, letting my boys down when I should have been present. For letting Jess down, when she should never have been brought into this mess in the first place.
I’d let her see me lose control. I never did that, but of course when I finally broke, she had to be there to witness it.
Violence was like an infection inside me that I couldn’t dig out. I couldn’t fight something that was in my blood, seared into my brain through years of repeated exposure. I couldn’t change the mold I’d been formed by, and failure felt inevitable.
The dirt road in front of our house led either to Route 15, or to a dead end. It was the dead end I walked toward, my boots kicking up dust as I went. I slipped past the metal barrier at the end of the road and into the trees, the path overgrown with weeds. The way still felt familiar, even though it had been a few years since I’d gone back here.
Places held memories, and most of mine were bad. This quiet spot back in the trees used to be where I came for peace, but over the years, it had come to feel more like a place to hide. Somewhere I could run away to when I couldn’t face reality.
Coward. Fucking pussy. Running away like a pathetic little bitch.
I sat down, my knees drawn up as I rested my arms on them. My own inner voice sounded like him. Like he could never fucking leave me alone. Even when he was dead and gone, his voice would still be there.
My tongue felt thick, my mouth too dry as I swallowed hard anyway. I’d been selfish. I’d wanted Jess so damn badly. I’d wanted another chance, as if a second opportunity would allow me to prove to her that she belonged with me. With us.
I’d allowed myself to forget that Jess was surrounded by privilege, by safety. That by inserting myself into her life, I’d dragged all my problems along with me.
My father had seen her. He’d fuckingseenher with us. It was a violation just to have his eyes on her. It was violent for him to merely know her name. Nothing was off-limits in his mind, not even her. And I’d exposed her to that. It was my own damn fault.
A dark, coiled knot of anxiety crawled around in my chest. It gripped my lungs with sharp claws and stuffed its ugliness into my throat, making my hands shake. It made sure that no matter how hard I tried, I didn’t really have any control in the end.
I jumped to my feet, the sound of a twig snapping nearby sending my hand flying to my back pocket and the knife I kept there. But it wasn’t my father who came walking through the trees.
“Jess?” I cleared my throat, my voice barely audible. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, taking in the trees, the chirping birds, the soft grass beneath her shoes. But when her gaze fell on me, the worry in her eyes made me feel like a literal piece of shit.
I was scaring her; I was probably scaring all of them. They deserved better from me, but I couldn’t function enough to be that person. Not now.
“How did you find me?” She came closer, looking me over as if searching for any more injuries. My hand ached from punching the wall, but it was a well-deserved pain, and I wished I’d brokenmy damn fingers.
“Lucas,” she said. “He’s back on the road. He’s worried about you.”
Unable to keep eye contact with her any longer, I said, “You should go home, Jess. Tell Lucas…tell him I’m fine. Have him drive you home.”
Did I sound confident? Strong? Determined? Or did I sound fucking weak, like a coward, a man who couldn’t face the world?
She inhaled deeply, lifting her chin in that familiarly defiant way that made my entire chest clench up. “I’m not leaving you alone out here.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I wanted to hold her, but I didn’t dare. If I couldn’t even manage to explain myself, why did I deserve to touch her? I managed something like a smile, but the look on her face told me it was weak. “I’m okay. I just need some time alone.”
