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Turns out, I didn’t have to do anything, because Kettle barreled up the walk, pushed me ever so gently inside, and slammed the door in my face.
I could hear Kettle’s raised voice, followed by the smoother voice of the older man, and I felt it best to just go into the bedroom in case they came inside. It was obvious to me that Kettle didn’t want his father there, and more so, he didn’t want me anywhere near his father. I did the only thing I could think of, and that would keep myself the hell out of earshot. I did that by going into the bedroom, closing the door, and cranking up the TV.
• • •
KETTLE
“What the fuck do you want?” I snarled at my father.
My father flinched slightly at the pure venom in my voice, but I didn’t feel one iota of remorse.
“I came because your wife...” My father started before I interrupted him.
“She’s not my wife.” I snarled. “You saw to that, didn’t you?”
My wife? What a fucking joke.
I’d met my ex-wife when we were juniors in high school. She’d been the girl from the wrong side of the proverbial track, and I’d been the rich boy who got snared in her web.
She’d been looking for a payday while I thought I’d genuinely been in love.
Then I’d gotten her pregnant.
When I’d gone home to tell my parents about the baby, my father lost his mind. He kept telling me to ‘take care of it’ then shoved some money into my hand like it was a fix all. When I’d refused, my father kicked me out.
I wasn’t experienced in the least.
Before I’d been kicked out, my mother had refused to let me work, scared to let her son go just in case something happened to me again. Which meant I had no job, no home, and I had a pregnant girlfriend to take care of on top of that.
I did the only thing I could think of that day, and that was to enlist in the army.
I’d done it without Rosalie’s knowledge and paid for it.
The whole situation became a cluster-fuck after that.
Rosalie had agreed to be my wife, and we stayed with friends since neither set of parents allowed us back home. Within a months’ time, I was at boot camp, and then six weeks after that, deployed to Afghanistan to help fight in the War on Terror for a year.
In that time, my fiancé gave birth to our daughter, and then found another man, who’d beaten my child to death when he found out it wasn’t his. All the while, I was halfway across the world in the middle of a firefight.
When I’d gotten home on emergency leave, my father wanted to make friends like nothing had ever happened.
I’d refused, and we hadn’t spoken to each other since.
“Rosalie’s been calling us non-stop trying to get a hold of you. She says she has some things to say and that she really wants to talk to you. I’ve agreed to give you this letter by hand if she stops calling me. So here it is.” My father said as he shoved a letter into my hand and left just as quickly as he came.
I stared at the piece of paper as if it was a live grenade and had to physically restrain myself from ripping it to pieces and burning them to ashes.
When I walked into the apartment, I was glad to see that Adeline wasn’t there. I needed some time to process; I didn’t want to take my demons out on Adeline. She didn’t deserve that, but I also didn’t think I could hold on to my temper much longer, which was why I did what I did next.
“It’s time to go visit the brother.” I said to Silas when he answered the phone.
“Meet you at the clubhouse in ten,” Silas confirmed before hanging up the phone.
I picked up my cut and shrugged it on over my sweats, grabbed my keys off the hook, and left without another word.
I forgot the letter and all the shit that went with it on the counter next to my key hanger, not realizing it until much, much later in the day.
We arrived at a tiny little house, in the middle of a cookie cutter neighborhood, in Shreveport an hour later.
