Page 87 of Chasing Forever
“The wounded bird story?”
She scoffs. My dad glances up.
“Did you?” My eyes narrow.
“Yes. She’s not some wounded bird, but she acts like it. I know you like to help people, and you’re very empathetic, but please, Brooks, you need someone different. Someone better.”
“That’s it. I’m done. You’re both out of my life.”
My dad stands while my mom jerks back in shock.
“Stop being irrational. Go home and sleep on it and come back when you have your shit together.” My dad points toward the door.
“What, did she go and whine to you about me coming into the store?” my mom sneers.
“What don’t you get? I’m out.”
“Not until this election is over. I need you by my side. So stop being buddies with Greg Miller. I have a plan I want to talk to you about.”
“God, you’re both crazy. I’m not doing anything. You fucked with my life. You hurt the woman I love.”
“Your mother did that. Not me.” He turns to her. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I throw my hands in the air. “You don’t love me. You don’t care what I want. You’re actively destroying the one person who means more to me than anything. What does that say about you as parents?”
“You’re way too worked up about this.” My mom takes a seat on the couch.
I start toward the front door.
“You walk out that door, and I won’t endorse you for sheriff,” my dad shouts after me.
I spin around and stare at him. This is it. This is who he is. Threats and ego. “I’m not surprised. Just so you’re not blindsided—I’m endorsing Greg Miller.”
I turn and walk toward the foyer.
“Brooks,” my mom says.
I don’t turn around. They don’t deserve a damn thing from me.
“Get back here!” my dad bellows.
I’m at the door with my hand on the knob when he storms in, my mom trailing, panic etched onto her face.
“You’re an ungrateful bastard. I took you in as my own, and this is how I get repaid.” He cocks his fist back.
I step aside, and his knuckles slam into the door.
I’m so used to the bullshit he spills when he’s angry that it takes a minute for the words to replay in my head.
Took you in as my own.
“Stop it!” my mom cries. “Stop!” She grabs his arm.
He yanks it from her hold. “It’s about time he knows. Walking around here like you don’t need us, threatening us. Endorsing my enemy after you’ve been given everything!”
“No. Please don’t,” my mom begs, reaching for him again.
“You’re not mine,” my dad spits.
