Page 48 of Until the Storm Breaks
“No. Inthisworld. The real one where we make choices.”
Dominic exhales through his nose. “Damn, Cal. It’s easy to have principles when you’re not the one dealing with the consequences.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been in Seattle playing professor while I’ve been here handling Mom’s decline, her care. You couldn’t even handle seeing her at the end.”
“You know why I stayed away,” I say. “She thought I was Dad. It upset her?—”
“Bullshit.” His voice cuts through my excuse. “You were relieved when she started doing that. Gave you the perfect out. You got to tell yourself it was for her sake, but really you just couldn’t handle watching her fade.”
The truth of it winds me. “Fuck you.”
“Truth hurts?”
I step closer to the desk. “You want truth? You’re so convinced you’re the only one who can handle things, you’veturned into Dad’s worst version. Controlling everything, deciding for everyone. Mom spent ten years making sure Maren had that home. We’re not undoing that.”
His face hardens. “I’m the only one here making the tough calls.”
“Because you won’t let anyone else near them.”
“Right, because you were all lining up to help.” His voice drips sarcasm. “Face it, Cal. You got to play the sensitive writer in Seattle while I handled the ugly reality.”
The words sting because he’s partly right. But only partly. “You love the control. Always have.”
“Someone has to be in charge.”
“And it has to beyou?”
“Who else?” he demands. “You?” He laughs, harsh and dismissive. “You can’t even commit to staying through the memorial.”
My hands clench at my sides. He doesn’t know I’ve been counting the days, dreading and needing the memorial in equal measure.
“This isn’t about me?—”
“It’s exactly about you. Coming in here, making demands about Maren when you barely know her.”
“I know enough,” I say.
“You know she’s pretty and lives next door. That’s what this is really about.” His eyes narrow. “You want to fuck her and you’re trying to dress it up as noble.”
Heat floods my face, rage mixing with something else. “Careful,” I say, voice low and dangerous.
“Hit a nerve? You want to play hero for the neighbor you’ve got a thing for, but you’ll be gone in a few weeks and I’ll still be here, dealing with reality. With Maren wondering why you made promises you couldn’t keep.”
I step closer, using my height advantage, getting in his spacethe way I know he hates. “The reality where you screw over someone Mom loved like a daughter?”
“The reality where I make the hard choices no one else will.” He doesn’t back down, chin raised.
“You mean theprofitableones,” I sneer.
Something flickers in his eyes—anger, maybe guilt too though. “The sale goes through as planned,” he says, voice tight with finality.
“Not if it means kicking Maren out.”
“That’s not your decision.”
I lean forward, hands flat on Dad’s old desk. “Watch me make it mine.”
