Page 47 of One Last Chance

“Because I’m the adult whose care he’s in, and you and your husband can’t be trusted to not expose Mac to things he’s not ready to be exposed to. Or that are inappropriate for him. Especially your husband,” I mutter under my breath.

“There you go again, making him some sort of villain. Screw you, Rowland. Mac should be ‘exposed’ to hismother!”

“He is right now, and how is that going?” I growl at her, intentionally keeping my voice low, unlike her.

“All you do is puff your chest out at me and act like you’re above me, like you’re the one who should rule the world and all our lives! Like I’m one of your submissive, slutty omegas. I’m not! So get your fucking pheromones in check. It’s disgusting!” She shouts before slamming the door closed behind her, leaving me in the room alone.

I look at my trembling hands. She might not be an omega, but she still knows that my pheromones aren’t seeping out because I’m trying to control or suffocate her. They’re out of control because my soul aches when she makes me feel inadequate and monstrous and not at all like the man I want to be around her.

Sometimes, life feels like a losing battle.

She’s not coming back, so I lifelessly search through the place she was looking around and after a few minutes, I finally find a little box with spare fuses. I replace the old one, hoping it’s enough to prevent some sort of tragedy and put everything back as it was.

Dread grows inside me with each step to the door. When I open it, I decide that I’ve resigned from this whole situation. I’m simply done.

“Fine,” I say. The voice that comes out of me sounds unfamiliar and distant. Hope looks up at me from the couch where she sits with Mac in her lap. “Keep them for the day. See how it goes. I’ll come pick them up in the evening.”

I don’t even look or explain more to Mac. In my peripheral vision, I see Mina giving me a puzzled look but I just grab my keys and head for the car.

I drive in silence for a little while until the path takes me where I need to go. Thankfully, there’s barely anyone in the cemetery’s parking lot. I’m glad, since it feels like having to face even one stranger and forcing a polite smile would undo me.

It’s been too long since I came here. Too long since I’ve seen Dad.

Not just a horrible husband, but a horrible son, too…

I’m not in the habit of drowning in self-pity, but it actually feels sort of freeing. Thinking like the entire world is going to implode just because my life isn’t going the way it is, and fully surrendering to the feeling that my emotions are all that matters, is so simple. So as I walk through the quiet, gloomy path, surrounded by graves in contrast with beautiful old oaks, I enjoy it, knowing once I stand in front of Dad, he’ll have none of it.

The pragmatic, sensible part of me, the ‘strong alpha’ archetype I should strive to live as, livens up the closer I get to that familiar spot at the raised section of the cemetery. By the row of thinner trees and behind someone’s extravagant statue of the angel of death is my family’s gravesite and down below the smooth marble face of it lies Dad.

I stop in front of the headstone, staring at it blankly for a moment. Like I was used to and taught to stand in front of him, I keep my shoulders back, my back straight and my head high…but it doesn’t last long.

“Hey,” I say, and with that breath falls all my false strength.

I play with my fingers hidden inside my jacket’s sleeves, nervously rubbing my thumb and index finger together. “What’s with that face, son?” Father would ask in that hearty voice that always exuded respect but also warmth.

“Sorry I haven’t been here in so long. I got tangled up in work, mostly.” A faint smile flashes across my lips. “You’d probably understand.”

Silence.

It’s unsettling. Cold. As if someone is actually supposed to talk back to me. As if I’m not just talking to a chunk of stone.

“Mom is doing fine. Most days you could hardly tell she lost her soulmate,” I say with a shallow chuckle. I know he would’ve smirked at me right now. “No suitors still, don’t worry. But she’s handling it well. I’m proud of her. You’d be proud of her.”

Another moment of silence.

I’m used to talking to Dad but suddenly, it is like a light switches in my mind and it starts racing. So does my heart. My palms sweat.What the fuck am I doing, I ask myself, the voice inside my head overbearingly loud and booming. There’s no one here. Your father is dead and you’re alone.

Pressing my lips together firmly, I rub the bridge of my nose to stop the tears that threaten to burst through.

“I’m so lost, Dad,” I whisper, near a whimper, and let out a shaky breath.

More than anything in the world, I wish he could somehow materialize in front of me and answer. If only he could be here, give me that confident look he always had, put his hand on my shoulder and tell me how to fix my mess of a life.

“I’m so damn lost and the person I want to reach out to for comfort the most is…out of my reach.” A chilly breeze of wind blows through my hair. I squat down to lean over the flat stone, holding my face in my hands.

Chapter 15

Dayton

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