Page 123 of Resting Beach Face
Why had I thought staying was the only way to look out for Kat? Why hadn’t I considered that helping my mom with bills only enabled my dad’s behavior?
We arrived at the house a few minutes early and headed for the door. It was like a replay of the last time I’d brought Katelyn home after the night of that party. She’d been ready to apologize and accept consequences for going—but Dad had laid into her instantly, saying inappropriate, disgusting things. In another situation, I might have said that Kat deserved a good lecturing after lying and putting herself in a dangerous situation. But Dad had been the one to provoke her into that rash action by insulting her, cutting her down, always drunk and ready to spread his misery.
It was a toxic environment she shouldn’t have to live in.
I eased the door open. Dad lay on the sofa, eyes only half open. “’Bout time,” he slurred. “One of you get me a beer.”
Katelyn turned for the kitchen, but I stopped her. “We’re not feeding your addiction anymore.”
My sister turned wide eyes on me. “Cash, you know how he gets.”
I shook my head. “Things have to change if we’re coming back here. Dad has to get help.”
“Help.” He barked a sharp laugh. “There’s no help. You two are fucking useless.”
“Where’s Mom?” Katelyn asked in a small voice.
“Working. Always fucking working,” Dad mumbled. “Dunno why she keeps going back to those assholes.”
I secretly agreed with that sentiment. Mom deserved better hours, better pay, better respect. But Dad was the hugest hypocrite, lying on that couch, doing nothing to help.
“You’re not paying the bills,” I said.
“Neither are you,” he snarled. “Fucking loser.”
Katelyn made a wounded sound and whirled toward the front door. “I can’t do this anymore!”
She fled outside.
“Goddamned drama queen,” Dad snarled.
I decided Kat had the right idea. I went outside, closing the door hard behind me. Mom was just coming up the driveway in her old Chevy beater. She opened the driver’s door.
“Good. You’re here.”
“And we’re leaving,” I said flatly.
Katelyn was already climbing into the truck and slamming the door behind her. Mom looked from me to the pickup. Then she sagged. “What happened?”
I shook my head. “Dad’s a bastard. What do you think?”
“Don’t talk about him like that,” she said sharply.
“I’ll respect him when he earns it,” I shot back. “But we both know he never will.”
Her eyes welled with tears. I looked away, unable to face the pain in her face. This had always been my weakness. Mom loved, and she loved hard, but I couldn’t keep living by her choices.
Declan was right. I was an adult now. That meant taking control of my life.
“I’ll talk to him,” Mom said after a tense pause. “I’ll get him to work on it.”
“He won’t change. He’s an addict, Mom.”
“He’s in pain. He’s suffering?—”
“So are we!”
She flinched back against the car, and I took a deep breath and forced my voice to soften. “So are we, Mom. We can’t go onlike this. You might choose this life, but I can’t do it with you anymore.”
