Page 87 of Not Another Yesterday
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Ronan, abusers don’t worry about being good parents,” she says matter-of-factly.
My brow knits. Before I can argue, my dad says, “Ran, can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” I say like a smart-ass.
He just nods. “You told me you and Cat fought, right? After Kellan and Dean were born?”
I nod.
“Did you yellat each other?”
I break his eye contact, shame washing through me at the memory of how I lost my shit with Cat, how I raised my voice at her, how I walked out and slammed the door behind me. “Yeah.” My voice is tiny with the admission.
“She yelled at you?”
I nod again.
“And you yelled back at her?”
My jaw hurts with how tense it is. “Yeah.”
Despite his interrogation, there’s not a hint of accusation on my dad’s face. “Would you say you were angry while you two were fighting?”
“Yeah. Shit, Dad, why are you—”
“And what did you do?”
“What?” I huff out.
“What did you do? When you and Cat were fighting, when you felt angry at her. What did you do?”
“I… I told her to stop. She didn’t. She was so pissed at me. Rightfully. So… I walked out on her. Slammed the damn door.”
“You walked out on her,” my dad says, his tone conclusory.
Is that a smile I see dancing in his eyes?
“Yeah.”
“You walked out on her,” he repeats.
“Yes!” The edge in my voice is audible now. I don’t need him reminding me of how much I fucked up.
“Ran, did you have even the slightest urge to hit Cat while you two were arguing?”
My frown deepens, making my forehead hurt. “No.”
“How about right now, bud?”
“What about now?”
“Well, I’d say this is a pretty agitating conversation we’re having with you. I hear it in your voice how much you’d like to shut this down. But I’m looking at you, evaluating your posture, how you’re holding that very vulnerable, fragile baby in your arms, and I detect not even ahint of volatility in you. In fact, you’re doing everything you can not to wake Kellan,” he says with a nod at my chest—against which the baby is cradled, sleeping soundly.
It’s only now that I realize I’m gently bouncing my brother in my arms, and while my shoulders are tense, I’ve subconsciously, made sure that my arms remain soft and relaxed rather than rigid and flexed.
My dad lessens the distance between us, a smile on his face. “Buddy, you are so damn scared of repeating Rica’s cycle of violence that you’re blind to the fact that you’ve already started breaking it. You’re already doing it, Ran.”
