Page 85 of Tight End

Pity. Sadness. Disappointment.

It’s all right there in front of me, all the things I never wanted anyone to feel for me. I didn’t want people to see through my hard shell, to find out that deep down, I’m still the same scared little boy I was growing up in a loveless household.

For years, I’ve masked it under my gritty, raw rock star persona. That was the Brixton I became because under the hard edges, that scared little boy was safe and protected, free from my tormented past.

But he’s just been exposed in the most vicious way possible, by the one person whose job it is to love me unconditionally.

I continue to move toward my father. Now my eyes are locked on his. My lips quiver with pent-up anger, a throbbing pulse practically exploding out of my neck. I’ve never felt so much of an urge to crack my fist against someone’s jaw for all the heartache, the rejection, the blatant disinterest.

But I don’t.

What would it prove? For so many years, he cast me aside and I burrowed behind Davis because he was my protector. I never confronted my father. I just allowed him to treat me like dirt, like I was unworthy of love or respect.

Over the years, I started to believe it.

And the real fear that’s been plaguing me since Davis died is…who will ever love me now? Because if my own father can’t, how could anyone else?

“I thought for all these years that you treated me like shit because you hated me,” I say to my father, my voice shaking with anger.

Blood rushes between my ears, making it near impossible for me to even hear myself think and process the words rushing from my lips.

“Except that’s not true, is it? It’s you. You hate yourself forletting things happen with Mom. You hate that you weren’t able to stop them. That you didn’t have the power to save her And you took it out on me, an innocent kid, because you knew you couldn’t handle the responsibility, that it would break you. Blaming me kept you safe from all of that.”

I take in a deep, shuddering breath. “You threw away a relationship with your son because you couldn’t process the grief of losing Mom. All these years and you took every opportunity to let me know how I ruined your life, even though you know it wasn’t my fault.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. “It wasn’t my fucking fault. And neither was Davis’s death. I blamed myself because I couldn’t see it coming or stop it. Holding myself accountable and suffering from it was my penance. What the fuck was your penance, Dad?”

Somewhere in the distance, I hear quiet sobbing. Allie reaches for Jules and heads for the stairs. Sam moves closer to me but doesn’t speak. I can’t even look at him, but his presence gives me a strength I didn’t know I had.

“Unca Bee,” Jules weeps softly as she walks with Allie, her big blue eyes spilling over with tears. I have to look away because that look on her face can easily make me crumble.

“You don’t know what I lost,” he growls. “You don’t know how amazing she was, how wonderful, how kind, how smart.”

“And you never bothered to tell me,” I sneer. “You were too busy wallowing in your own self-pity to realize that you had a part of her with you every goddamn day. Jesus Christ, I look just like her.”

“That made me hate you even more. I couldn’t even look at you without remembering how my life ended the day you were born,” he bellows.

Once the words are spoken, his eyes pop open wide, like hedidn’t mean to say them but now they’re out, never to be taken back. He gasps then snaps his lips shut.

Words are like weapons. They can do irreversible damage and cause deep scars that will never heal, no matter how hard you try.

I stare at him. “You say I’m selfish and self-centered. That’s ironic because out of the two of us, who’s deflected shit throughout his whole goddamn life? You dumped on me because you’re a weak, pathetic piece of garbage. How the fuck do you think Mom would feel if she saw all of this? If she knew how you’d behaved? How all you did was point fingers, never realizing that part of you was suffering? I grew up without a mother and hated by my father. I only had Davis, and when he was gone, I felt like I had no one.”

Sam lays his hand on my arm, the warmth of his skin touching mine igniting a sense of control deep down inside of me, one I feared I’d lost a long time ago. It fuels my resolve. It assures me that I will not break. I will not bend. And no fucking way will I bow.

My father looks at me, shock settling into his worn face. His lips part and I stick my hand up in front of his face.

“Don’t fucking say a word.” I clench my teeth, my jaw stiff. “You’ve said plenty that I can never unhear, and I don’t want to breathe in a second more of your goddamn toxic air. Fuck you and fuck your life.”

I push past him and twist the front door handle open. I stagger onto the porch. Collapsing against a large white column, my chest heaves as I gulp down air. Heat floods my insides, creeping up the sides of my neck and into my face. I lean my head back against the column, all of the harsh words looping through my mind like a broken record.

I hear the front door close. I don’t look up when the bottoms of the crutches scrape along the wood planks in mydirection. A strong hand rests on my shoulder, but I can’t bring myself to look up.

Sam’s the only man I’ve ever let in. He’s the only man I’ve ever dropped my guard for.

And he’s the only man I’ve ever allowed myself to…

My shoulders slump with the realization I can’t deny any longer.

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