Page 122 of Somewhere You Belong

Otherwise, I’m not sure either one of us will recover.

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When I pound on her door, I wonder if she’s already asleep. It’s after nine and my mother is usually in bed by eight. But when she opens the door in her robe and sees me, her shoulders drop and she hangs her head.

“She told you.”

“She didn’t have to. I found the letter from Dad.”

Shaking her head, she opens the door wider so that I can enter. But standing in my parents’ house feels so fucking wrong right now.

My parents.

My own fucking parents kept this from me.

For years, they’ve heard me talk about wanting that house, my plans for the future, wanting that place for my own when I was done in the Marines.

And now the woman I’m in love with owns it because of them, and they all kept it from me.

All of them.

I need a fucking drink.

I head for the kitchen, straight to the liquor cabinet where a bottle of Jack Daniels sits, untouched for months. My dad was the one that drank this shit, so I guess it makes sense that I should drown my fury with his drink of choice.

Bottoms up, Dad. I bet you’re laughing right now.

“Dallas, come sit.”

“I need a minute, Mom. In case you weren’t aware, my entire world was just flipped upside down and you’re partially to blame for that.” I take a swig from the bottle, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand when I’m through. My eyes move around the house, looking at these walls with suspicion of what other secrets they could hold, what other lies have been concocted in the place I called home, in the family I should have been able to trust.

My mother pulls her robe tighter around her body as she moves into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island. “I know that you’re hurting and that we have a lot to talk about, but you’re inmyhouse right now, and you’ll damn sure show me some respect while you’re here. Do you understand?”

Sighing, I hang my head in shame. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom. I just…” The sting of tears threatens to build, but I grab the bottle instead and tip it back once again.

“Come sit. Bring the bottle if you want, but we need to talk.” Grabbing my emotional support drink, I follow my mother to the couch, taking a seat on the opposite side from her, avoiding her eyes.

“Look at me, Dallas,” she commands. It takes me a minute to do so, but when our eyes meet, I seethe hurt in hers as well.

Fuck.This is going to suck, isn’t it?

“How long?” I ask her, not wanting to waste any more time getting down to the truth. Perhaps the rage coursing through me will subside faster if I get some fucking answers.

“How long did I know about the house?” I nod. “Since you were five.”

“Jesus Christ. That fucking long?”

“That’s when your father set up the trust for Willow, honey.”

I shake my head, taking another swig from the bottle. “All this fucking time.”

“We never meant to hurt you, Dallas.”

I shoot my eyes back over to my mother. “Why leave her the house?”

“I thought you read the letter?”

“I did, but I want to know everything.”

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