Page 77 of Mark & Don't Tell

“And expenses. Big ones. Infrastructure. Store fronts. Product costs.”

His features darken. “So, you’re not going to help me?”

“I mean, maybe I can connect you to people who invest in that type of business, but...” I trail off and grimace when his scowl deepens. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, sorry isn’t going to fund the project.” He pushes away from the table and glares down at me. “I thought we were finally going to bury the hatchet.”

I hurriedly stand. “I want to. I’d love for us to reconnect.”

He scoffs. “Clearly not bad enough.”

Is he asking me to buy my way back into his good graces? My chest cracks, and pain blooms, slicing through me like a thousand knives. “Ryan.”

“What, Dad? Huh? You sit here and talk about how amazing this stupid company is, but you can’t even support me and my dreams.”

“That’s not true. I support you.”

He shakes his head. “This was a mistake.” Leaving his trash on the table, he heads for the door.

I struggle to find a way to fix this. “Please don’t leave,” I say in a rush. “Can we talk? I’m sorry about the money but the company?—”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s always the company or your pack, isn’t it? You’ve always picked those two things over your family.”

“What?” I ask. “We built this company for our pack.”

“No,” he snaps, whirling around, fury trembling through him. “You built this company because Mom wasn’t enough for you.”

“We built this company for her. She and Vic?—”

“Don’t say his name to me.”

I pause and look at my son, wondering how things got so messed up. “Vic is your dad too.”

“No. He’s the beta who made you guys choose.”

“That’s not true.” I’ve made a point to never talk badly about his mom. “Did Felicia tell you that’s what happened?”

“Are you going to tell me she was lying?” Ryan narrows his eyes and steps forward.

This is a losing battle. “I think the reason your mom left is complicated.”

“You. Left. Her.”

“No.” While I may not want to get into all the dirty details, I’m not letting anyone pin the breakup on me and the guys. “She decided to leave.”

“No.” He shakes his head hard, as if to dispel the truth. “You’re wrong.”

Sighing, I search his face. “I’m not. She left.”

“You’re lying,” he screams. A vein pops out on his forehead, his face turning bright red.

And I see it. I see the kid who was so broken when we told him that we weren’t going to be living in the same house. I see the kid who cried and asked what he did wrong. I see the little boy who begged us to stay together. It fucking breaks me. My face heats, and I struggle to breathe normally, trying to keep a handle on my emotions so my own pain doesn’t set him off.

All I ever wanted for him was love and success and happiness. I wanted him to have everything I never had. I wanted him to have parents who cared, who were there for him when he asked. I wanted him to come to me with his problems. To ask for advice. To shoot the shit with me. I wanted him to, at the very least, like me.

But I’ve messed it all up. I’m no better than my own parents. Dread settles into my gut, a heavy weight that I’m not sure I can stand. I take a breath, hating that it trembles through me, hating that I can’t be strong for my son.

“Ryan,” I say, throat thick with emotion. “It’s complicated.”

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