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“If I could give you what? What else do you need me to give you? My fucking life? Oh, no, you already took that away from me on more than one occasion.”
“Dylan, I—”
I placed my finger over her mouth, quieting her. I was done hearing her goddamn mouth and pitiful excuses. The old pussy whipped McGraw was gone. I kicked his sorry ass to the curb the day I found out she was a fucking liar. Everything I ever felt for her vanished as if it ceased to exist in the first place.
“I don’t want you here. Do you understand me? The mere sight of you makes me sick to my fucking stomach. I spent half of my life loving the shit out of you, and I lost everything in a matter of seconds because of you. Everything! My career, my freedom, and my fucking daughter. You took away my choice to be a father by hiding her existence from me for ten fucking years. As far as I’m concerned you fucking died the day Jeremy did.”
She gasped.
They say that vengeance doesn’t make you feel better. Well, that was a lie.
It felt fucking amazing.
“I'll never forget you, although I'll spend the rest of my life trying.”
Her eyes widened, immediately watering. I saw her cry so many damn times that I could drown in a sea of her crocodile tears.
“Is that why you never read my letters? Or let me visit you in prison?”
“No, Bree, that’s not why.” I leaned in close to her lips and her breathing hitched.
I spoke with conviction, “On that day you just turned into another girl I used to fuck.”
She shattered. Her glass house breaking as she ran away from me. I held the hammer firmly in my hand ready to use it again, when needed.
“Dylan Anthony McGraw,” Mom snapped from behind me.
I spun around, facing her as she came toward me. “Don’t even go there, Ma. Don’t even try to fucking go there with me.”
“Oh my God! I am so ashamed of you right now, I can’t even look at you.”
“Good,” I barked. “Then turn your ass back around so you don’t waste my time with this fuckin’—”
Her hand was up in the air, connecting with the side of my face before I even got the last word out.
“Oh, Dylan, I don’t care where you just got released from. I don’t care what you may have seen. I don’t care what you have gone through or who you think you are now, but if you ever,” she gritted out through clenched teeth, shaking the sting off her hand that I felt on my cheek.
“Ever, raise your voice or talk to me like that again, boy, I will not hesitate to remind you who it is you’re talking to. Do you understand me? Or do you need me to remind you again?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I forced out, holding my cheek.
“Oh my God. Where is my boy? Where is my son? Because I have not seen him since you walked through these doors yesterday afternoon. I raised you better than this.”
“Yeah, Ma. You raised me so damn good and I still ended up in prison.”
She shook her head. “Whose choice was that? Yours! No one else’s but yours. That girl has been through enough and she doesn’t need your shit on top of everything else. She is an amazing mother to that young girl.”
I jerked back. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Obviously not clear enough.”
“She has Giselle. She’s had her for the last six years, and has done nothing but include us in her life. I know my granddaughter because of her. That girl is exactly like you, and up until a few minutes ago, I was proud of that fact.”
“I… I didn’t…” I stuttered.
“Now, you get your act together before your guests arrive. The one’s who are so excited and relieved that you’re finally home. Go take the stick out of your ass and find my son. When you do, have him come find me.” She spun, walking back inside.
