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Leaning forward, Rhett says, “Spill.”
Chapter three
Rhett
Atthispoint,mybreathing exercises are useless.
With every inhale, my lungs burn with a hatred so overwhelming I can hardly bear it. My hands began shaking the moment I finished listening to Andrew and Ludo’s conversation, and they haven’t stopped all day.
Not when I try to distract myself by planning with Ell.
Not when Wren makes me eat lunch.
Not when Oliver comes to me with ideas for our secret project.
There’s a certain safety that comes with being home. I don’t have to focus on a job or my surroundings, which gives me the mental space to process. Or, in this case, the space to let the anger inside of me swell until my chest feels like it’s about to burst.
How could he do that to Mom? To us?
I’m not sure when Richard started his affair with Andrew and Benny’s mother. Obviously over nineteen years ago, since that’s how old Andrew is. But how long was it going on before then? Did it start before Sammy was born? Soon after? When Mom got her cancer diagnosis?
Did he leave because of me? Did I ruin his life that badly?
I shake the thought off immediately. My father’s abuse may have fucked me up, but I was a child. I know it wasn’t my fault. His problems with me begin and end at his problems with himself.
It should make me feel better, but instead, my rage only grows. My mother was dying. Sammy and I were terrified of losing her. We needed help. Love. Care. But Richard abandoned us.
It only got worse after Mom died. He was barely home. Sammy’s blind trust and love in Richard began to wane. When he wasn’t at work, I assumed he was at bars or clubs. But now I know that’s not true at all.
He’s the reason she’s dead.
I’ve always blamed him a little, but I gave him more grace than I should’ve. I thought Richard’s later neglect was due to my mom’s death. I thought he was lost in grief, so deep in mourning that he wasn’t capable of taking care of his children.
But that’s not the case at all. He was off with his secret family, with a son he didn’t hate—at least not yet. It’s possible he saw my mom’s death as a blessing. It was one less thing tying him to us. And then Sammy died, and the way he acted . . . He wanted to erase her. Erase every last shred of evidence that she ever existed.
Almost like he was relieved she was dead.
That idea has been hovering at the edge of my consciousness for days now. Richard may not have orchestrated Sammy’s death, but he didn’t do anything to protect her, either. And now that I know the truth of what he was doing, any sympathy I still harbored for him is gone.
I try to stay present throughout the day, but there’s not much I can do to stop myself from thinking about my father. Even while we discuss different ways to get the boys to safety, all I can think about is how this ishisfault. If he’d been a better father—a better person—everything would be so different.
By the time midnight rolls around and I’m the only one awake, I have so much energy buzzing through my veins that I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again. I try everything to calm my mind—a hot shower, meditating, even Oliver’s stress relief tea.
Nothing eases the hatred that threatens to burn through me until all that’s left is ashes. And not a single thing soothes the anger that grips my heart so tightly I’m afraid it’ll give out.
I try to avoid the inevitable, but I can only hold out for so long. How can I when destroying Ludo is everything I need but exactly what I can’t have yet?
Rhett:Who do you need brought in?
Finn:I don’t think that’s info I should send to you.
Rhett:Give me someone, dammit.
Finn:I’d prefer to stay on Elliot’s and Oliver’s good sides, thank you very much.
Rhett:I’m wringing someone’s neck tonight. Would you like it to be yours?
Finn:Jesus. What the hell happened?
