These are the things running on repeat through my head while I’m lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling with the glow in the dark stars pressed on the ceiling. “I really should take those down if I’m going to stay here,” I whisper into the quiet room, my body getting sluggish from the onslaught of emotions after today. The good part was that Sailor made it to her hotel, and even though she gave me a tongue lashing to light my ass on fire and to stay away from all things Ryder, it was one of the brightest spots of my day.
My eyes close, finally without the burning sensation that’s been simmering on the edge all day. I need the rest, or I’m going to look like I went three rounds with Mike Tyson alone. Did I mention the fact that I ugly cry? I’m talking face flaming red, puffed out like the marshmallow man, and my eyes, that’s where the boxing mogul comes in. They’ll swell shut until looking out of them is hard, not to mention others attempting to look at me; it just makes it that much harder.
“I can’t fucking believe you!” is screamed out by Mom along with the slamming of the door. My mom never gets this fired up. Aunt Raven? Yes. Aunt Fallon? One hundred percent. Even Aunt Sadie can gear up for battle pretty quickly. But for the most part, Mom is a kill-them-with-kindness type of person, so someone has really pissed her off.
“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Dad bellows right back.
“You damn well know what you did, Cain. I can’t believe you. How could you?” The anguish in her voice has me thinking my father did the unthinkable, even though I know with every bone in my body Dad would never do anything to break Mom’s trust. I get out of bed, light on my feet, open my bedroom door quietly, and walk gingerly down the hallway and down the stairs. I won’t break up their argument, but I will sit on the last step and listen in, much like I used to when I was a kid and they’d tuck me in only for me to sneak back out and watch my dad spin mom around the living room while listening to classic rock.
“Can’t say that I do with the way you’re yellin’ at me instead of talkin’ to me, Persephone.” Dad’s tone is even and full of steel.
“I’ve never, not once in our twenty-something years of marriage, been more ashamed to call you my husband than I am right now. You broke so many people’s trust, but the worst one will be that little girl. Four years she’s been miserable, four years a man has shouldered that pain, and you know exactly what you’ve done.” The puzzle pieces click into place as I watch as Mom walks away, shaking her head, looking as distraught as I’ve ever seen her, and I know it’s the exact same look I’m wearing on my face. I bury my head in my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Things are painted so differently now, and I should have known, but damn was I blinded by my own hurt to not see Ryder was sharing it right along with me.
CHAPTER 7
HAWK
I walk into my parents’ house unannounced, already knowing that when I get summoned, they’re at the kitchen table, which is where I find them. Mom with a shot glass in front of her, Dad with his hand around the neck of a bottle of whiskey, the tone beyond somber, and when Mom looks up from her shot glass, she’s barreling towards me.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I brace for impact. When her arms wrap around me, Dad’s eyes watch us. He doesn’t show his feelings on his face, somehow always managing to wipe it clean, unlike Mom, where you can tell everything she’s feeling—angry, hurt, sad.
“Not anyone’s place. I did what he asked. I didn’t have a whole lot of choice. It was choose Ender or becomin’ a prospect. If I’d stayed with Ender, I’d have lost my family, no doubt about it.” My voice holds steady as I remember that day when Shovel laid it out, telling me I couldn’t have both and that I’d be doing a disservice to Lavender if I didn’t let her go. It was time to show if I was selfish or not. Those were his words.
“That’s not right, and Shovel knew it, too. But he’s fucked, and he’s about to be screwed ten ways from Sunday. Your aunt is on a tear, and I’m pretty sure Shovel is going to feel her wrath for days to come.” Mom squeezes me tightly before letting me go.
“Son.” Dad nods his head to the seat at the table Mom and Dad have owned as long as I can remember.