Page 80 of Fury

It’s the final straw.More apologies. More sympathy.I roar angrily with frustration, batting a chair to the side and sending it flying across the room.I just want to fucking remember.I sweep my hand across a table, sending glasses to the floor. Weeks of pent-up aggression burst from me, and each cry of anger leaves my throat raw. When Axel finally rushes me from behind andwraps his arms around me, holding my arms by my side, I look up to see absolute terror on Xanthe’s face. Her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide in shock. Tears are streaming down her face, but at least she doesn’t look at me with sympathy.

I pant heavily, and Axel loosens his grip, realising I have no more strength in me. The door opens, and Dianna enters, humming to herself. She looks at the mess before her, her eyes going around the room and taking in the utter shock on everyone’s faces, and then she places her bag on the floor and says, “Somebody put the kettle on. I’ll take it from here.”

“Mum, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Xanthe begins, but Dianna holds her hand up to stop her speaking.

“Everyone can leave. I’ll be fine with Reese.”

The men begin to file out. Axel asks her how she takes her tea then disappears into the kitchen. There’s just me, Xanthe, and Dianna remaining, and suddenly, all I want to do is cry.Fuck.I haven’t cried in such a long time. Not properly, anyway. Somehow, I can always turn it off.

“Xanthe, that includes you,” she says firmly.

Xanthe goes to pass me, and I take her wrist, pressing my thumb to her tattoo. “Mine,” I whisper. She doesn’t make eye contact, instead staring at the ground before pulling free and going upstairs.

“I can’t sit in this mess,” mutters Dianna, shaking her head. “Let’s clean it up.” She picks up a chair, and I take the sweeping brush that’s resting against the wall and begin to sweep the broken glass. My entire body aches, and my head thumps painfully. “Bursts of anger are normal with a brain injury,” she adds, sweeping some shards of glass from the table, “but this behaviour isn’t acceptable.” She busies herself with the cushions on the sofa, shaking each one out. “You’ve been through a lot, but lots of people have and they don’t smash things up.” I feel like a naughty schoolboy, and I almost smile. “I don’t know whatyou find so funny,” she mutters. “You know how I feel about violence.” She heads over to the bar and grabs a dustpan and the bin.

Axel returns holding a cup of tea. “I had to make it,” he says, looking confused. “There was no one around to do it.”

“Do you own this establishment?” Dianna asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says proudly.

“You’d better work out how much he owes for the damage.”

Axel grins, patting me on the back, “I’ll let him off. He ain’t the first brother to break sh- things,” he corrects before cursing. He leans in closer to me. “She clipped me around the ear when you were in hospital for swearing,” he whispers with a laugh. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything,” he offers before heading off.

Dianna holds the dustpan, waiting for me to sweep up the broken glass, then she pours it in the bin. “I thought I’d come and stay for a few weeks,” she announces, brushing her hands down her dress and heading for the couch. She pats the space beside her, and I join her. “I had a feeling Xanthe needed me, but maybe it was you?”

Coop wanders in, stopping when he lays his eyes on Dianna. A smile creeps over his face. “Well, hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.” She stands to shake his offered hand, and she’s equally as smiley. I roll my eyes.

“I’m Xanthe’s mother, Dianna.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

I scoff, and Coop releases her hand. “I’ll leave you two alone. Just call if you need anything at all,” he adds.

“He seems charming,” she gushes, staring after him. I narrow my eyes, and she composes herself. “Do you remember the first night you came to us? It was late, and I’d had dinner waiting for you at six because the social worker said she’d get you there for then, only she went to get you and you’d run away. Mack saidright then he didn’t think we’d be a good fit. We were already struggling with Xanthe’s behaviour.”

“You should have . . . listened to him.” The flow of my words feels better. Maybe the blowout was exactly what I needed.

She smirks. “I was never one to back down from a challenge, you know that.”

“You . . . did, though,” I remind her, “in the . . . end.”

She gives me a sad smile. “When you have your own children, you’ll understand it, especially if she’s a girl. I love every single child who came through my door, Reese. It wasn’t very often I wanted to hold on to them forever. But you,” she looks me in the eyes, “there was something about you.”

“It was an . . . act,” I say with a shrug. “I was . . . tired of being . . . moved on.”

She gives her head a knowing shake. “When you finally walked through my door, you looked at the roast dinner I’d set out for you, and I could see you wanted to smile. Instead, you said?—”

“That looks . . . like shit,” I cut in, and we both smile. “I was so . . . rude and so . . . ungrateful.”

“You were a teenage boy afraid of rejection. Any time we did anything nice, it was met with anger. And that wasn’t a reflection on you but how you’d been treated.” She places her hand in mine. “You soon settled down, and Mack realised he was wrong about you. You were good for Xanthe. You kept her on track.”

“I didn’t,” I protest.

“You did, Reese. Before you, she felt a little lost and got in with the wrong crowd. You made her see how bad they were for her. We started to see glimpses of our happy little girl again. You did that.”

I pull my hand free. “I fell in love . . . with her. I ruined it.”

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