AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Like my parents thought. Like everyone else thought.
Like I thought.
It was him who kept me from ending up in juvenile detention, not the esteemed and generous Howard Davidson.
My mom even made me write him a letter, an apology letter, a grateful letter. For sparing me even though I acted so foolishly. For sparing my parents and letting them keep their jobs. And I wrote it happily too. I wrote it feeling guilty and grateful.
While the guilt part was legitimate, my gratefulness wasn’t.
It shouldn’t have gone to him.
It belonged to his son.
His second son, whom everyone thinks is a disappointment.
But he’s not, is he?
He’s the most wonderful guy I’ve ever met.
Most wonderful and layered andcomplicated.
“You… Y-you saved me.” He tenses under my hands. “And he punished you because of it.”
He leans over me then, braced on his arms, his hands splayed wide on the wooden structure — a table — that I’m sitting on, his body shifting.
At which point I realize that he’s standing between my spread thighs.
And those spread thighs of mine are actually wrapped around his hips rather than lying passively on the table. Maybe it should feel inappropriate — and I’m sure it is for a myriad of reasons that I can’t think of right now — but I don’t care.
I tighten my thighs around his hips even more, my limbs sliding along his sweaty, dense muscles.
If he notices me rubbing up against him, he doesn’t give me any indication.
His focus is on my face, on what he’s about to tell me.
“First, if my father hadn’t disowned me for this, he would’ve done it for something else. It was coming. Sooner or later. He probably chose that moment just for the hell of it. And second, I didn’t save you. Icouldn’tsave you. You still ended up at that school, didn’t you? Because of me. Because my father wanted to punish me.”
Then, scoffing, “Actually, knowing my father, he never would’ve pressed charges against you anyway. As I said, he loved playing the big man. The man everyone thought was so giving and generous. He probably would’ve let you go on his own, called a few reporters to give a big interview about being forgiving and whatever the fuck. He did it all because I interfered, because I let him know how much itmatteredto me. I should’ve thought it through though. I should’ve…” He swallows thickly. “It was just that…”
Therewasan interview about his father in the local newspaper.
About his generosity and kindness.
So in a twisted way, it all worked out for him in the end and I hate that so much.
I fucking hate his father.
“It was just what?” I prod him.
I watch the play of emotions on his bruised and battered face.
The anger, the frustration, theregretas he rasps, “I couldn’t take that chance. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’triskmy father punishing you for something that wasn’t really your fault.” Then, “So however you wanna look at it, it was me who sent you there.Myactions.”
A lump forms in my throat then.
A big and jagged lump.
I shake my head. “No, you saved me from going somewhere worse. You protected me. Even back then.”
