Page 13 of Accidentally Forever
Never the mother.
My mother was the McTavish. And my father had changed his name to suit her. He had come from an equal amount of money, but not the same amount of prestige. And my mother was never going to lose her name anyway.
It was the first in a long history of my father capitulating for the woman who had tried to beat the snark and blood out of me. My father had gone along with it because he was scared of her—at first. Then he changed.
He savored it.
He loved being her blade.
And as I stared at the man who had resented me from the day I was born, I once again hadn’t asked myself why I was here.
“You’re late.”
“Wasn’t sure you would care,” I said. I held back a curse for speaking up. Silence was usually better in these situations because my father hated it—even as he was now.
“Talking back. You’re learning. It only took what, thirty years? That doesn’t really matter though, does it? You’re never going to be good enough, Crew. Are you still working with your paint by numbers?”
The words didn’t cut like they usually did. “You know it. One day I will even learn how to make the color green. It’s a little hard though.”
“You always were a sarcastic little shit.”
“Thank you for reminding me. I’d almost forgotten.” I clenched my jaw, ignoring the pain in my raw knuckles as I forced my fists to relax.
“You should watch your tone with me. I might be in here, but the only reason you’re even allowed to breathe is because of me. You’re nothing. You always were nothing. Nobody wants you. Nobody in here, nobody out there. It’s why you’re spending your afternoon in this godforsaken place. And yet, why are you here? To lord over me with some ill placed sense of loyalty or need. No matter what happens to me, I’m still better than you. That woman will still be better than you.”
I shook my head, ignoring the twinge between my shoulder blades. “Even the woman that left you?” I asked, tilting my head as I studied the man who only loved to belittle me.
“She didn’t leave me. She leftyou.She loved me. And she never loved you. You were the slight. The accident. But you still have the McTavish name. You’d think with that and your little art, you could find someone to blow you. I know you are a mewling little weasel, but you need to do your duty and find yourself a wife.Spawn a little brat or two. I don’t care. But get it done. You know your duty.”
“Sure. I can figure that out.” I said it so dryly, that the man who called himself my father glared at me.
“You unrepentant waste of air.” My father moved quickly, arm outstretched. I didn’t duck the first blow. Why bother. It didn’t hurt anymore. But when the second blow came, I moved out of the way, tired of this.
I had no idea why I came anymore. It wasn’t as if he had ever loved me.
But watching this man who’d once been so big he made me quake in my shoes become this broken man felt as if it was my penance.
Or maybe my future.
The orderlies came to pull him away, and I turned without a second glance. The Montgomerys had this beautiful family who cared for each other, were always there for one another.
Yet it washisblood that ran through my veins.
I walked past the nurse with wide eyes and made my way to my SUV, cursing under my breath when I realized who leaned against it.
My mother crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me in her three-thousand-dollar suit. “You love to break a good man down, don’t you?” my mom asked, her tone that same banal crueltyI was used to.
I shook my head, exhausted. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, and I was done with this bullshit.
“That’s rich coming from the woman who left the man currently in there.”
My mother waved that off as if leaving a broken man alone in memory care and never once visiting him was the norm. When the disease had finally been too much for my mother to handle, she dropped my father off without a second glance and filed separation papers. She hadn’t finished the divorce, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she still loved him, or the paperwork would be too difficult to finalize. I did not understand anything that came from my mother. But then again, I never had. When I had gotten big enough to fight back, she stopped hitting me. Then my father had tried to go in, but I had gotten bigger than him as well.
The verbal assault had never stopped until I could leave. They always found ways to get into my life and needled their way through.
The money that I had, the countless investments that’d piled on top of one another, had come from the trust my grandparents had set up. Nothing in my home, in my businesses, or in my life came from my parents. They wouldn’t think of it that way, but I’d done my best to clear them from my life.
“You’re supposed to visit him and make him feel safe. And yet all you do is make him angry.”
