Page 14 of Dante

“I got it!” he shouts, shooing me away.

“You clearly don’t.”

“Bah,” he grunts, dismissing me.

He presses himself against the walker and stretches up, but he’s still a solid six inches away. Stepping up behind him, I grab the glass and set it on the counter in front of him.

“Coulda done it myself,” he mumbles.

“Water?” I ask instead of engaging.

“I can do it myself.”

Without arguing, I turn on the faucet and fill the glass, setting it on the counter next to him.“Everything doesn’t have to be a fight.”

My father glares at me, then begrudgingly takes a sip of water.“You’ve done enough for me,” he finally says, breaking eye contact. “I don’t need you getting me drinks, too. I’m already enough of a failure without you rubbing it in.”

I blink a few times, not expecting that response. “You’re not a failure,” I start, though I have nothing to back that up.

He grunts out a bitter laugh. “No? Well then, just a cranky old man dealing with the consequences of a lifetime of bad choices.”

We’re both quiet for a few moments, letting his words sink in. He’s not wrong. “The alcohol was always going to catch up to you,” I finally say. “Nothing to do about it now but treat what we can.”

I stare out the window, but I can feel my father’s eyes on me, studying me for the first time in years. I’d like to say I don’t give one goddamn fuck about his opinion, but that’d be a lie. He’s my dad. I think some part of me will always want his approval.

“It’s not just the alcohol, son. I fucked up with you over and over. I know I did.”

Keeping my gaze locked on the little cottage, I try not to listen to his words. I don’t want to forgive him, even if I know I should. The front door opens, and out walks Cambria, the sunlight kissing her skin and making her curvy figure glow. White-blonde hair glitters in the waning sunlight, and I get the sudden urge to comb my fingers through it.

“After Diane died, I lost myself. I didn’t know how to deal with the grief, and–”

I whip my head around and focus the mounting rage on the man who deserves it the most. “Don’t you dare say her fucking name,” I spit. “Using her as an excuse for your drinking is despicable. I hoped you’d changed, that maybe facing your mortality would realign your priorities, but I see you’re the same excuse-seeking piece of shit I knew you to be all along.”

“Dante!” Cambria shouts. I didn’t realize she was here. She must have slipped in the back door during my rant.

My breath saws in and out of my lungs as I clench my teeth, never taking my eyes off my pathetic father.

“I lost my best friend,” my dad says. “My partner. And you were a kid. I had no idea what to do with you!”

“I lost my motherandmy father that day,” I grit.

“Dante, let’s take a break,” Cambria says from beside me. She rests her hand on my arm, but I yank it away. “Step away and take a few breaths. You’re both saying things you don’t mean.”

“He means every word,” my dad spits out. “He’s always resented me. He wishes it were me who died instead of his mother.”

“You know what, old man? I–”

“Enough!” Cambria yells. She puts her hand on my chest and shoves me back. I stare at her, then look down at her hand. “Back off. I didn’t ask you to come here so you could berate your father. I know things are complicated, and believe me, I know what it’s like to grieve, but–”

“You don’t know anything,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at her. “Not a goddamn thing.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could yank them back and swallow them down. Cambria curls in on herself, her bright blue eyes filled with tears, though she doesn’t let them fall. Her chin trembles, but it’s still held high, like the warrior she is. Jesus, I’m an asshole.

“Cambria…”

Before I can say anything else, she pushes past me and runs out the door. I stare after her, not knowing if I should chase her or give her space.

“She didn’t deserve that,” my father says flatly.

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