“Aeris.”
My father’s powerful voice sounds from the doorway, grabbing my attention instantly, and I really hope he didn’t notice the way my shoulders jumped.
A gulp clicks its way down my throat. “Sperm donor.”
“Never thought you’d come to visit us,” he chuckles, though that forked tongue of his couldn’t be more incapable of humor.
I slough off the fear that’s no doubt etched into my features. “You know why I’m here,” I snap icily. “I’m not back for you. I’m only here for answers.”
“Of course you are. You’re my daughter. As much as you hate to admit it, we’re more alike than you think.”
My glare has enough venom in it to paralyze a full-grown man, and it’s a look reserved just for my father. “We are nothing alike.”
When my fists clench, I want to cringe from the sting of broken skin on my hands. Oh, God. I wish I could punch him right in the face. I probably would if I was strong enough or had any idea how to throw one.
“How did you know?”
Michael leans against the doorway, blocking the exit. If I had to make a quick getaway, I’d have to crawl out the window and into the gardenias. His size has always intimidated me, and that’s why I’ve been so afraid of what would happen if he were ever to get physically abusive with me.
“About Hayes?” With the way his face is shadowed, all I can see are the whites of his eyes and the glint of his teeth.
“About Hayes.”
“Ethan Blythe, Hayes’ agent, is a member of my country club. I overheard him talking about Hayes’ efforts to rebrand his image. He mentioned something about a sponsor’s daughter and a fake relationship. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but then those pictures of you and him surfaced, and I put the pieces together,” he explains.
“And how do you know who Hayes’ agent is? How do you even know who Hayes is?”
“My buddy I was with at the time, Joshua, is a huge NHL fan, and he follows the sport closely. That bastard even drove all the way down to California for some sponsored event.” There’s a smugness buried in my father’s tone.
Oh my God. Joshua. From the sponsor party. The puzzle pieces were right in front of me, waiting for me to put them together.
“I can’t fucking believe this.”
“I told you so.”
Rage crawls up my spine, the tension in my shoulders deadlocking with each step I take toward him. “God, you’re a fucking piece of work, you know that? Instead of comforting your daughter, you need to rub it in my face. You always need to be right. I shouldn’t have come all this way. The relief of knowing wasn’t worth being ridiculed by you.”
His lips curl back from his teeth in a snarl. “You won’t speak to me in my own house like that. I’m doing you and your mother a favor by letting you stay here.”
A flat laugh drags out of my mouth. “What? Feeling a little emasculated, Michael?”
That sets him off. My father steps into me, forcing me back against the wall, and his arms flings out to cage me on either side. His potent cologne is making me lightheaded, and when his beef jerky breath gusts over my face, I swallow down the panic making my heart rebel against my ribs.
The fire in his voice is just above a flame. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass for twenty-three years. It should’ve been you. You should’ve killed yourself that night. At least Roden wouldn’t have talked back to me.”
It should’ve been you.
Shock is the first thing that hits me. Then grief. And then anger.
The same anger that’s always belonged to my dad is now mine, and no part of me wants to smother that fire-breathing dragon. I push him back with enough force to steal his balance, then I’m the one staring him down.
“You don’t think I wish it would’ve been me? You don’t think I would’ve done anything to go back in time and change what happened that night? You didn’t even cry when he died, or during his funeral. I had to carry all that pain. By myself.”
I don’t recognize the sound of my voice. I don’t recognize myself.
“I’m done taking this shit from you. I’m done letting you have any part in my life. I tried to keep communication open, for the sake of Mom, but I can’t do it anymore. You’re a pathetic excuse for a man, and an even more laughable excuse for a father. I’m done hating myself because you hate me. I’m done blaming myself for your mistakes. You were the one who drove Roden to kill himself,” I growl, and I would be freaking out by now if I wasn’t so ramped up on adrenaline. I’ve never talked to my dad like this. I’ve never had the courage to.
I expect him to lash back, but he doesn’t. I force him into the doorway, sharpening my glare on his retreating figure. He visibly moves back when I grip the side of the door.
“You’ll always have blood on your hands. And I hope that when you’re on your last breath, alone, wishing for that sweet release of death, you’ll realize that you’ve driven everyone away. You’re fucking lucky I’m nothing like you, otherwise your blood would be on my hands.”
I shut the partition as soon as he allows me the space, and the combination of my pulse and heartbeat pop roughly in my ear canals.
Once I hear his footsteps diminish down the hallway and see his shadow move from under the door, I drag myself to the bed, letting the dam behind my eyes break. And then I cry the hardest I’ve cried since Roden’s death.
My mother’s been shoving her baked goods in my face the entire morning. I think they’re mainly guilty pastries, but they taste delicious, nonetheless.
My father went out to run errands, and I’m planning on leaving before he comes back. I needed to speak with my mom without him monitoring our conversation.
Elaine’s gray eyes laser in on me, as if she can see through to the depth of my pain. “This man you were seeing…he broke your heart, didn’t he?”
“He broke more than my heart. He broke my trust. He lied to me about our entire relationship. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. But in the end, I should’ve listened to my gut. I could’ve avoided all of this,” I confess.
She reaches across the table to hold my hand. Her hand is cold, despite the house being fairly warm, and her fingers are bony. They grasp me like she’s afraid to let go—like she knows I’ll leave once I’m given the chance.
“I’m so sorry, Aeris,” she consoles, her free hand tightening the sweater around her shoulders. “Did you love him?”
Moisture wells in my eyes, and I stare hollowly at the lemon square I’d been nibbling on. “I did. I loved him more than I thought was humanly possible, Mom.”
“Do you want to mend things? Do you want to give him a second chance?”
“If I give him a second chance, I’m just giving him another opportunity to break my heart.” I need a padlock on my heart with the way it’s close to beating out of my chest.
“I’ll support whatever you choose to do. But you can’t be afraid to love. Real love—true love—is worth fighting for, no matter the wounds you get in the process,” she says, using her sleeve to paw at my sodden cheeks.