Page 41 of Wreck Me

A gurgled gasp lurched from my throat, the puzzle pieces rapidly clicking together as I realized what this was all about. It had nothing to do with the companies merging or the Bradley family at all, but it had everything to do with my father’s lack of confidence in me. “That’s what this is all about.Together. You’re setting everything up so there is a male as the face of your company after you step down. You don’t want your daughter to run your company, so you’re appointing yourself a son.”

Sinking back down on the edge of the couch, I brought my hands to my face, covering my nose and mouth as I sat staring down at the intricate pattern of the area rug. My mind was reeling, trying to process everything I had learned tonight—everything my father had planned.

After several tense, soundless minutes, my mother spoke. At some point, she had moved to sit beside me on the couch, but I hadn’t realized until she placed her hand on my knee. “Darling, this is good news. Running a company—it’s a lot of work. With Blake in the picture, the stress won’t just fall on your shoulders. You can make a difference together, as a team. Share the workload. And Blake comes from a great family. He’s smart, driven, and is setting himself and his future family up for success too.”

I snorted a laugh and stood, my feet moving me in the direction of where my clutch sat on a decorated credenza in the foyer. I had stashed it behind a large vase of roses from my mother’s garden.

Bernard stood awkwardly by the front door, unknowing that when he walked back in after escorting the Bradley’s to their car, he was walking into World War III.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything else, and instead wedged my clutch under my arm and gestured to the door. Bernard pulled it open for me and let me pass.

My parents didn’t try to stop me.

Bernard, on the other hand, followed me out, trailing me to my car. He opened the driver’s side door, pulling it wide so I could slip into the seat. Immediately, I pressed my foot on the brake, and my finger on the ignition button, and the engine came to life.

“Drive carefully, kiddo,” Bernard said, using the term of endearment he reserved for when I really needed someone who cared.

Tears pricked my eyes as I clicked my seat belt into place and switched the car into reverse. “Thanks.”

Bernard shut my door, the light from the car cloaking me in darkness seconds later. I wasted no more time in reversing my car and angling it back down the obnoxiously long driveway and out of this suburban hellscape.

Before pulling onto the main road, I reached over and grabbed my phone out of my purse, sending off a quick message to Caleb. Because at the end of this awful, draining day, the only person I wanted to be around was him.

I’m on my way. See you in thirty.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

“Where the fuck have you been these last few days?” my dad demanded when I opened our front door for the first time in over a week and a half. The only reason I came back was because Isla had to head to her parents’ house and it didn’t feel right to stay at her apartment when she wasn’t there.

My father’s coherent abilities shocked me, and I did a double take. I couldn’t remember the last time he spoke without slurring his words. Dropping my backpack by the door, I assessed him through narrow eyes. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Course I did. This place is disgusting.”

Ah, so there it was. I hadn’t been around to clean up his messes, and he had noticed the lack of maid service. I stomped into the small kitchen and yanked open the fridge, looking inside at the few contents it housed. A six-pack of cheap beer, expired condiments, and some bread was all that was left. It’d been a couple weeks since I went to the store, and since I hadn’t been home to stock it, it sat empty. I had to wonder what the old man ate while I wasn’t around, but part of me didn’t care. “It’s not my job to clean up after you.”

“Fuckin’ lazy, just like your bitch mom was,” he spat under his breath from his spot on the couch.

My spine went ramrod straight, anger filtering through my blood. Turning slowly, my nostrils flared and my hands curled into tight fists by my side. “What did you just say?” I grit out.

Ten-thousand emotions flooded my system. It’d been months, possibly years, since he had uttered a word to me that wasn’t mid-intoxication, and here he sat, taking a lazy pull on his beer, a cruel smile enveloping his face as he talked down to me, and talked badly about my mother.

“I said,” he drawled, gripping his beer around the neck of the bottle and bringing it to his lips. He chugged half of it before lowering it and continuing. “You’re fuckin’ lazy, just like your bitch mom was.”

All I saw was red.

“Keep her name out of your mouth. You’re the reason why she left us. Why she leftme,”I seethed, restraining myself more than I thought capable. I wanted to deck him. Knock him to the ground, climb on top of him, and not stop punching until his face was marred and bloody beneath my knuckles.

Every time he opened his mouth and said something about my mom, it felt like a switch flipped inside my mind. It was his fault she left, and without me—I was sure. It was also his fault I could never look for her. He had no information on anything of her past. Couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell me where she came from, or any family names. He wouldn’t help at all, and because we were broke as shit, I couldn’t afford to hire someone to help me find her. I’d always just waited, and hoped, she’d finally come back for me. But she never did.

Once again, my dad tipped the beer bottle back, polishing off the rest of the contents before tossing it to the floor. I watched as a bit of foam spilled from the rim onto the already disgusting carpet. He laughed sinisterly, scooting down on the couch, and angled his legs wide. He looked incredibly relaxed with his hands cupping the back of his head, as I stood in front of him diffusing nothing but hatred.

“I regret nothing. She deserved everything she got,” he told me cruelly, his voice reflecting his words. “You’ll see, son. All women are the same. Good for nothing except when they’re on their knees. Betcha your woman will prove herself to only be a useful hole.”

It was unsurprising he had figured out I was with someone, but bile rose in my throat regardless. The last thing I wanted was for him to ever meet her. This interaction with him further solidified it.

Our hatred for each other ran so deep, my blood boiled and my entire body shook with rage. My only two options were to walk away or kill him. As appealing as the second choice was, I didn’t think a felony murder charge would help secure me a position on the police force.

When I finally turned away from my father, I went back and grabbed the backpack I had dropped by the door, picking it up and slinging it over my shoulder. As I passed by him, I shot a brief glance in his direction, just long enough to see him grab onto the handle of his half empty vodka bottle, forfeiting the uncapped beer on the table next to him. He smiled mockingly at me again and took a swig.

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