Page 138 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“My duty?” I laugh. “My duty is to myself. I’ve given more than enough to this farce of a family. I’m choosin’ to step away. You’re lucky that’s all I’m doin’.”

“One word from me and you’ll lose that precious job,” Papa hisses. “That place you love to rent. Gone.” He snaps his fingers. “You think my word doesn’t hold weight in this town? If I say I need you here, they’ll listen.”

“Maybe.” I suck on my teeth. “But I’d hate to see what happens when I tell everyone the truth.”

“What truth is that?” Papa’s brows raise.

“About how you preach purity and taint your soul with sins.”

Momma’s fingers tighten on his shoulder. “No one will believe you.”

“You sure you wanna test that theory?”

Papa’s jaw tenses, his eyes hardening.

Momma laughs. “So you’re just gonna ignore us while we live in this town together? You’re just gonna excommunicate us? We’ll have to tell people somethin’.”

“That’s not my problem, Momma.” I smile softly, even though my heart twists in my chest. “I’d love to have both of you in my life. You’re my folks and even if I shouldn’t… I love you. I don’t know how not to. I just wish you’d love me back.” I shrug. “I’m not vengeful, I’ve accepted where we are, and I’ll learn to be okay with that. But I won’t let you manipulate me anymore.”

Papa looks away, and Momma stares for a long moment before finally giving a brisk nod. Dismissing me.

I leave willingly, relief at the closure I feel pouring over me and soaking into my skin, washing away the questions.

But with clarity comes grief.

I’m not sure what I expected, but even after all this time, I long for them to apologize. For them to seek redemption and for me to be able to grant it. I guess in at least one thing, Momma is right.

Fairy tales don’t exist.

Sometimes the villains continue on, thriving in their castles. And maybe happily ever after is finding peace in spite of that.

I am strong. I am bold. I own my power.

58

Eli

I’ve been redoing Pops’s place for the past month. I wanted to give him somewhere new and fresh to come home to. Somewhere he wouldn’t get lost in painful memories. I ran it by him in one of our weekly family sessions, and he seemed on board, so Lee and I have been working on it ever since. It’s almost done, just his bedroom left, which is what we’re tackling today.

He has one month left at Stepping Stones, and if it weren’t for the court date looming above his head, I think we’d all be a bit more excited for his return home. His lawyer believes he’ll be able to avoid actual jail time. The people he hit aren’t pressing charges, and the fact he’s already taken steps to better himself will work in his favor, but at the end of the day, he still drove under the influence and crashed into a family. He’ll most likely be looking at house arrest and a long stint of probation. Normally, there would be alcohol courses but his lawyer thinks the ninety-day rehab will satisfy the judge, as long as he keeps going to meetings.

Meanwhile, here I am, trying to make moves to start this new phase of my own life and also feeling responsibility for Pops’s. I’m not sure whether to live here and keep him straight, or if I should find my own place. I’ve been wavering back and forth, the pressure grinding down on my chest whenever I think about making the wrong choice.

I called the realtor to start scouting the area, just in case.

It’s been nice, having time with Lee. I never knew she was so funny. It makes me happy to get to know who she is in a way I never have before, even when we were kids. I’m grateful to be building the relationship I always envied in other families. One where we learn to appreciate each other for who we are, not who we want the other to be.

She’s been asking about my time away from home, about what things were like for me with the injury. How things have been going with Becca since I’ve been back.

Which they haven’t been. I’ve seen Becca a few times in passing, but even though every fiber of my being screams to stand next to her just to be in her presence, I’ve stopped myself.

I’ve heard the gossip around town, though. It’s impossible to get away from the scandal of Preacher Sanger’s ungrateful daughter disassociating from the church, leaving God—and her folks who raised her—behind.

I’ve been tempted to ask Lee, but something feels wrong about learning the details through anyone other than Becca.

I don’t know how to approach her. Not sure how to bridge the gap from where we were to where I want us to be. But I’m so damn proud of her for finally breaking away and standing up for herself.

For not running.

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