Page 112 of Let Me Love You (Excess All Areas 5)

Alex crossed his arms and stepped in front of the door. “You and I both know that either the two of us go, or neither of us does. Zoe and Chaya will be here for Mum if she wakes up.”

“Fine. We’re both going, then.”

“I know why you need to go see him,” Chaya said. “But, please, don’t lay a finger on him. He’ll use it. Against you. Against your mum. He’ll do a deal…he won’t press charges against the two of you if she doesn’t press charges against him. Don’t fall for it.”

While he wanted to, he knew Chaya was right. “I promise you. I won’t hit him.”

She stepped onto his toes. “Then, go. Me and Zoe will look after your mum.”

Within minutes, he and Alex were outside their old family home.

Alex steamed towards the front door, but Ben grabbed his shoulder. “Stop, Alex. Just for a second.”

“Why?”

Ben sighed and put his hands to his head. “Chaya’s right. The easiest thing, the thing that will give us the most instantaneous satisfaction, is to hit him. But you know what? He’s a prick. And we have more money than he does. He’ll press charges. He’ll sue us. It will all drag on and we’ll never be rid of him. Kind of like you and Zoe with Ollie. He’s been arrested and charged, but he’s out on bail. You’ve got the restraining order. But you still have to wait a year for sentencing.”

Alex rubbed his hand over his face. “But if she doesn’t press charges, he gets away with it.”

“Only if she goes back to him.” Ben kicked a stone on the driveway onto the lawn. “She’s not going to call the police. And if we call for her, she won’t testify. But we can make him go away.”

“How?”

Ben let himself into the house using the key he’d had since he started junior school. He turned on the lights and looked around. The house smelled like a brewery. Alcohol-laden air and the stench of a sweaty male body. His dad wasn’t on the couch.

“He must still be in bed,” Alex muttered.

The two of them walked upstairs, making no attempt to be quiet. Their father would likely be heavily passed out. Ben grabbed the large vase that sat on the window bottom, then stepped into the bathroom and filled it with water.

When they pushed his parents’ bedroom door open, his dad lay sprawled on the bed, still wearing his jeans. His knuckles were bloodied.

“Fucking asshole,” Ben whispered, tipping his head in the direction of his dad’s hand. “Take some pictures of that.”

Alex grabbed his phone and crept to the side of the bed to take pictures of his dad on bloodied sheets, the damage to his knuckles. In the event their mum ever did decide to file a restraining order or report him to the police, they might need it.

His dad snored, and Ben couldn’t take it any longer. He poured the water right over his face, getting a sense of satisfaction from the way his dad coughed and spluttered.

“What the fuck?” his dad tried to shout; his voice rough with sleep as he sat up.

Ben glared at him. “Give me a single reason why I shouldn’t kill you?”

His dad looked confused. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“How much of last night do you remember?” Alex asked.

Ben didn’t give a shit about how much he remembered.

“You don’t get to come in ‘ere, pour water over me, you little shits. Get out of my house, you little f—”

“You hit her,” Ben said, cutting his father off before he could hit Alex with a slur.

“What do you mean, I hit her?” But as his father glanced over to the side of the bed their mum always slept on, his father groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

Ben grabbed his dad’s wrist and held his bloodied knuckles to his dad’s face. “You. Fucking. Hit. Her.” He threw the wrist back down. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to pack up your shit. Anything you want from the inside of this house. Then, you’re going to leave and not come back.”

“I paid for this fucking house.”

Alex placed his fists down on the bed, his face contorted into a snarl. “We tell you that you hit Mum, and all you care about is that you own this fucking house?”

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