Page 10 of Should Have Been Me

“I said I was sorry!” I exclaimed. “And if it makes you feel better, I’ll even get your stupid car detailed.” I crossed my own arms, mimicking his stance and narrowing my eyes in a vicious glare. It was one thing to insult Smoosh. Okay, I got it. She went a little bananas. But it was a whole other can of worms to accuse me of being a crappy cat mom. I was fantastic, thank you very much. “Besides, the only reason she climbed you the way she did was because she felt safe with you. She’s not really a people person, so the fact she wouldn’t let you go obviously means she liked you.” Not that I could understand why. The guy was being completely unreasonable.

“Well, the feeling’s definitely not mutual.”

As if she heard this jackwad, Smoosh let out another one of her screams that made my molars clamp together.

“You’re irresponsible, and no one should have ever allowed you to have a pet.”

Was this dude for real? What an asshole! “And you’re a raging jerk who probably gets off on being a storm cloud over everyone’s day.”

He let out another one of those gruff rumbles that hit me in my lady parts. Seriously, God. Why? “I should report you for animal neglect.”

My blood was officially at a full, rolling boil. I couldn’t remember a time in my life where I’d ever been so heated, especially over a stranger. But this guy had to be the rudest person I’d ever crossed paths with. “And I should report you for being a raging hemorrhoid.”

He let out a scoff, and for a split second I thought maybe I saw the corner of his mouth tremble like he was trying to suppress a smile, but that couldn’t have been the case. There weren’t any lines around his mouth or eyes indicating he even knew how. I was willing to bet he’d never smiled a day in his miserable life.

“Jesus, that’s your comeback? How old are you?”

I’d never done anything in my life to warrant a brush with the law, but I was fairly certain punching this jackass in the mouth would have been totally worth the assault charge. But I’d been saving to buy a special zoom lens and didn’t want to have to blow my money on bail.

“I’m old enough to know when a miserable jerk isn’t worth my time. Thanks for not squishing my cat, asshole,” I said as I started moving backward toward my car. “Have a miserable day. Hope to see you again never.”

I was officially rescinding my offer to have his suit dry cleaned and his car detailed. He could take care of it himself. And I really hoped that coffee burned like hell when it spilled on him.

It was the least he deserved.

6

VAUGHN

Things hadn’t gotten any better as the day progressed. My car reeked of coffee and my chest still bore the signs of that earlier spill.

When I got home after the whole debacle with that menace of a cat and stripped out of my ruined suit, throwing four grand right into the garbage—literally—the skin on my chest and abdomen had been an angry, mottled red and felt like the top three layers had been melted right off, thanks to that piping hot coffee I hadn’t gotten to enjoy. I’d spent the rest of the morning feeling like my skin was on fire.

It had faded as the hours passed, and thank Christ there were no blisters, but my chest was still flushed a bright pink and sensitive to the touch, which was only irritated further by the seatbelt I had strapped over me as I made the drive from my place to my father’s.

I would have rather tied a cinderblock to my nuts than attend a family dinner, but the recent struggle to tell my father no when he made a request was getting harder and harder to do. I’d moved here to be closer to him, after all, and as much as I would have preferred to do that on my terms, I knew it didn’t work that way.

He still lived in the same red brick ranch-style house I’d been raised in for the first thirteen years of my life. With three modest-sized bedrooms and two bathrooms, it wasn’t anything spectacular, but opening the front door, I was slapped right in the face with memories I’d shoved to the darker recesses of my mind. I hadn’t thought about this house very much over the years, but I knew, without a doubt, if I was blindfolded and sent off on my own, I would still know every step of the place like the back of my hand.

I cleared my throat and shook my head to clear out the strange melancholy trying to grip hold of my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

“Hello?” I called out as I wiped my shoes on the doormat that read Bless This Mess before stepping across the threshold. I would have knocked, but the instant I raised my hand to do so, I recalled my father’s booming voice always calling out “It’s open” any time someone would stop by, a regular enough occurrence. In Pembrooke, you didn’t need to lock your doors and, at least at Hershel Cavanaugh’s house, everyone was welcome.

Just like it had been when I lived here, the walls of the entryway were covered in a collage of family photos in mismatched frames that had no particular order or theme. Hershel and Millicent’s wedding photo stood out as the largest among all the rest, surrounded on all sides by pictures of me and my half-sister, Leighton, from infancy and beyond. Of course, there were more of her, seeing as she’d been around a lot longer, but I wasn’t sure if it was my father or his wife who had made an effort to keep images of me in the mix.

Visitation never happened once I’d been pulled from my dad’s home. According to Estelle, the back and forth was too much of an inconvenience. What with my private school, tutoring schedules, and all the extra-curricular activities she’d forced on me to ensure I remained out of her hair until I was needed, I never really had any free time to come back for holidays or summer vacations. Still, my high school and college graduation photos were hung with care among the rest of the family.

There were even a few images I knew had to have been printed out of magazines or online articles from interviews. And at the sight of them, that knot in my throat tried desperately to grow larger before I managed to swallow it down.

“Anyone home?” I called out, hoping the croak in my voice wasn’t obvious to anyone but me. I heard noise coming from the direction of the kitchen at the back of the house, and a moment later, my dad and Millicent rounded the corner.

“There he is.”

I had seen my father a few times since making the move back to Pembrooke, but the sight of him now still managed to catch me off guard. I got my height and most of my features from him, except for my hair color. Mine was a dark brown that bordered on black; his was much lighter. My broad shoulders and wide chest came from him as well, so to see him looking so thin he was damn near gaunt was like a sharp elbow to the solar plexus.

Growing up, I thought of my father as this larger-than-life character. He seemed powerful enough to handle anything. Thanks to the cancer treatments, that strength was gone. His skin was paler without that sunny bronze that came from working outdoors. His cheeks were sunken, dark purple half-moons colored the hollows beneath his eyes, and his once-strong shoulders were slumped. I knew he was going to be all right; he’d assured me of that when he first called to tell me he was sick. This cancer wasn’t going to be a death sentence, but that poison they were pumping through him in order to kill it off was causing damage, and I hated seeing him in such a state.

Thoughts began to loop through my mind. I should have tried harder to have a relationship. I should have been a better son. If only I wasn’t such a cold, heartless bastard.

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