Page 74 of One Life to Loathe

“The time in the newspapers. It wasn’t the first time I jumped in to protect my mother. My father liked to drink. He was loose with his hands … with her and me.”

“I’m so sorry.” She sounded breathless. “That’s horrible.”

“It started when I was thirteen. Me trying to protect my mother I mean.” I had to force myself to look away from her so I wouldn’t get lost in her eyes. We’d started this conversation and I was determined to finish it. Maybe I needed it as much as she did. “When he went after my mother, I inserted myself in the fight to protect her.”

“And she let you?” Sam almost looked mad at the prospect.

“Sometimes she was in no position toletme do anything. It was either step in or let him kill her.”

“Oh, geez.” Sam gripped my hand tighter.

“This went on for years. He would go weeks without doing anything. Then he would go on a bender and go after both of us. He would always apologize after, and my mother would believe him.”

Looking back was difficult. I’d managed to emotionally distance myself from those days, but I still woke up in a cold sweat thinking I was back in that house some nights.

“I didn’t know the last time was going to be the last time,” I explained. “I was coming home from a football game. I knew he’d gone on a tear when I walked through the door because the house was trashed.

“I found my mother on the floor in the kitchen,” I continued. “She was unconscious, and bloody, and I just lost it. I went after him. I had every intention of killing him.”

Sam leaned in close. “You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay.” I meant it. For some reason, with her, it was okay. She filled my cracks over and over again, like Jax said Daisy did for him. It felt like my own little miracle. “The neighbors called the police. I had him on the ground and I really was going to kill him. The cops stopped me, though.

“They put me in the patrol car while they were trying to sort things out. I was furious, but they left me in there for almost an hour. Then, when I was calmer, Officer Sturges came to talk to me.”

Now I did smile. “He’s the one who saved me. I kept telling him to talk to my mother, that she would tell him what happened. She had been transported to the hospital by this time and had a different officer with her.

“He looked at me—and I’ve never seen anyone that sad before—and said, ‘son, we talked to your mother, and she says you picked the fight with your father and she got caught in the middle.’”

I had to take a deep breath now. “Up until that moment I thought she would stand up for me. It wasn’t until then that I saw who she really was. She was never going to take my side.”

Sam looked as if she was blinking back tears, and I absently brushed my thumb against her cheek. “Don’t. I can’t take it when you cry.”

“I’m sorry, but that is the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” Her voice was soft.

“It was actually the best thing that ever happened to me.” I meant that. “Officer Sturges made sure I wouldn’t face any charges. He knew what really happened. He also hand-pickedthe home I went to. He said he wouldn’t let me go back to the house—not that I wanted to—and I was angry at first about being displaced from my home. But do you know what?”

She merely watched me and blinked.

“Things were better right away,” I said. “I didn’t have new parents, but I did have people who cared about getting me through school. My grades went up. I was no longer getting in fights in school. I would occasionally see my parents during shopping trips in my old town, but I pretended I didn’t know them. It was just … better.”

“Do you talk to your parents?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. I haven’t talked to them in years. Once I got my first Hollywood paycheck—a decent one—they called wanting me to loan them money. I couldn’t wait to get out of that town, and they were inviting me back for a visit. I declined of course, but then the next day I went to set in a bad mood, and it didn’t go well.”

“You burned everything down,” she surmised.

“I burned everything down,” I agreed. “That’s when I got my reputation for being difficult—and it’s stuck because I continuously burn things down when they don’t go my way—but things are still better than they were.”

“Your parents don’t deserve you.” She leaned her head against my shoulder, and I felt more cracks being filled. “You shouldn’t ever talk to them again.”

“That’s the plan.” I rested my cheek on her forehead. It felt so right to lean into her. It was as if she was lending me her strength. “That was a bummer of a conversation, huh?” I forced myself to be jovial as I lifted my chin.

“I’m glad you told me.” She was earnest when she met my gaze. “I need you to know something.”

My heart seized for some reason. In that moment—and I couldn’t say why—I thought for certain she was going to say thatshe wanted this relationship to continue past the point where we’d agreed to it ending.

It was ridiculous—the logistics would be impossible—but I wanted her to say it. When I was with her, I felt as if I could do anything. Including this.

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