Page 17 of Savage

“It’s not exactly a novelty now. They’re married and have been for ages. You should still be nicer to your father,” I lectured in a frosty tone.

“Don’t involve yourself in shit you don’t understand,” he snapped back.

My God, evil was this boy’s religion, he made my blood boil.

I wanted to scream in his face but went with, “I’m going to my room, there’s no talking to you,” I bleated with frustration, feeling drained suddenly. Why I was standing there allowing him to suck the fun out of my day was anyone’s guess.

He was spoiling for a fight and probably got off on the fact that I wasn’t as evenly matched as his father. With me, he got away with it.

“Your room, that’s fucking rich. Nothing here belongs to you or your twit of a mother.”

I had to curl my hands into fists to stop myself from hitting him. How dare he call my mother names!

A noise distracted me and I glanced over his broad shoulder as Marcus appeared from around the corner. From the look on his face, he’d heard what his son had said.

Jaxon followed my focus and glanced to the side before twisting back to me with a sigh of impatience. “As I said, I don’t have time for this shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“Jaxon. My study. Now,” my stepfather commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.

My stepbrother didn’t turn around, he just rolled his eyes at me, a poor attempt to rein in his foul mood.

“Yes sir,” he hissed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He said the word sir like a soldier saluting his superior officer but with a significant layer of disdain.

I swallowed as I watched Jaxon turn away and move down the corridor to the opposite side of the house. The location of his dad’s office. His body language oozed aggression. The shit was going to hit the fan.

My stepfather and I just stood there staring at each other with exasperated expressions until we heard Jaxon down the corridor. He slammed the door as loud as humanly possible. I flinched but Marcus remained unmoved.

After a glance down the hallway, he drew his gaze back and slowly walked toward me; his face was now expressionless but his cheeks were red.

“I’ll see you at supper, Wynter. You are not to repeat any of what you’ve heard to Daisy. OK?”

I soaked in those words and agreed with him. I always shielded my mother from any type of nastiness.

“Of course,” I agreed.

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes and I felt sorry for him. “And please don’t worry about Jaxon. The boy is just full of hot air. He’ll come around eventually. He just needs to grow up a bit. If he gives you any trouble, come and see me. OK?” Full of hot air my arse. Jaxon needed to grow a heart as he was clearly born without one.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Where is mum anyway?” I questioned.

“She’s on her way back from the hairdressers. She’ll be here in time for supper,” he explained, his face softening as he spoke of her. Marcus then twisted away and followed his son’s last direction, his walk suggesting he was about to unleash hell.

Turning around, I went up to my room, taking the stairs two at a time.

Would I ever be part of a family that got along?

Checking my phone, I had around forty minutes before dinner and I spent that time trying to establish what angle to use for my mental health article. I loved writing; writing was my version of meditation and I loved to lose myself in it. But I needed to speak with Marcus about this particular piece. He’d be able to help and make some suggestions and I knew he’d do everything he could to support me. I was Daisy’s daughter and he was obsessed with making her happy.

After working for around half an hour, I removed my reading glasses, freshened up in my bathroom and pulled on a black jumper over a white T-shirt and jeans. I then went downstairs for dinner.

As I entered the dining room, Chris and Daisy were both seated and Marcus was in the process of plating up. He was a fantastic cook and had made the most delicious-looking lasagne. He portioned it up and then we helped ourselves to salad and crusty bread.

Jaxon’s seat at the other end of the table remained empty. So, he had decided against joining us for supper. If I hadn’t witnessed the fight, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal as he didn’t always eat with us. Only on Sundays, when the Sunday roast was compulsory for all members of the family. Marcus made a killer roast beef.

I sat next to Chris who had a textbook at the table. He was shoving food into his mouth and reading.

Marcus lowered himself into his seat opposite his wife, who beamed across at him, “This looks delicious as always,” she cooed with her new hair beautifully styled. She was so in love, it poured from her.

He grinned and winked before turning to Chris, “No reading at the table Christopher, put the book down.”

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