Ruckus (Sinners of Saint #2)(33)

My fork dropped to the floor and my eyes flared, a mixture of surprise and rage dilating my pupils. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Daddy never spoke to me this way before. Hell, he hardly ever told me no, even when I wanted a goddamn pony. That was where he drew the line, but only because he couldn't afford it. Other than the pony-and staying away from boys, of course-I was pretty much gold.

He was the one telling Mama she should let me go to New York, even going as far as buying me the one-way ticket.

He was the one who'd told me to chase my dreams, even if they took me in the opposite direction from where he wanted me to go.

He was the parent who truly believed I could do it. Live life as a normal person.

And he was lying. All along.

"I'm not dumping my health issues on anyone at this table," I gritted out. "I live on the other side of the freaking country. Where is this coming from?"

"You need to come back. You have to come back, you're not well." Mama snuffled, throwing her napkin over her entrée, the plate still overflowing with food. "Your sister broke her back working two jobs so you could live in New York. Before she'd left the city, she cushioned your life with a top-notch apartment that's been paid for and even covered the tuition fee for your nursing school. And what do you do with all this goodness? Making coffee!"

"Hey." It was my turn to smack the table, and damn, it hurt. "Since when do you frown upon certain jobs? You were a cook for forty years."

"I had no choice!" Mama screamed.

"Neither did I! I dropped out of school because Dr. Hasting made me!"

She stood up and stormed out of the dining room, leaving me speechless.

Daddy, Vicious, and Emilia stared at me. The men with disappointment, my sister with pity. Tears stabbed at my eyeballs, begging for me to let them loose. I never cried, and I hated showing weakness. Especially when every single thing I did in life was designed to prove to my family that I could make it on my own. That I didn't need help. That my petals were falling, but that I was still in blossom.

"Rosie … " Millie said softly. "Give Mama some time."

"Stop defending your sister." Daddy dragged a hand over his face. Each syllable he uttered spread like wildfire inside me. He narrowed his eyes at the Juliet balcony behind my back, unable to spare me a glance. "You're killing your mama and yourself. You had a doctor boyfriend. A man who could give you everything you needed."



       
         
       
        

"He was a podiatrist. That's like half a doctor. It's no more a doctor than Ross Geller."

Yeah. I took most of my cultural references from Friends episodes. Sue me.

Daddy didn't find my remark funny. In fact, he ignored it altogether as he slowly gathered his phone and pack of tobacco he chewed after every dinner, ready to leave, too.

"You broke up with him because you were selfish. Because staying meant facing the music, darlin'. Because you can't commit to anything, which is why you dropped out of nursing school, live in a paid-for apartment, and work as a waitress at twenty-eight. Your sister is getting married in a week." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if he needed strength to finish the sentence. "And here you are, making us all worried about you again. Your mama doesn't need time. She needs a healthy daughter."

"Whatever happened to 'do what you want to do', Daddy?" I shot up from my seat, every muscle in my face shaking in anger. I had no one. No one but Millie. No one to appreciate who I was without slapping me with the label 'sick' and 'weak'. "Whatever happened to 'you can do anything, as long as you put your mind to it'?"

He shook his head. My father was a small man with a lean, muscular body from doing labor work all day, but he looked so big and imposing at that moment.

"You were eighteen when you moved, Rosie. You're twenty-eight now. Most men want to settle down and have a family by now. How could you throw away one who would not only sacrifice those things to be with you, but could actually take care of you?" He turned to my sister whose mouth was wide open. "She needs to hear it. She can't afford to be choosy."

With that, he left the room, too.

"I believe this is my cue to let you collect the pieces," Vicious's dark voice muttered, pressing a kiss to Millie's crown. He followed Daddy out. The doors closed with a soft thud that made my heart rattle.

My sister looked down at her plate, rubbing her thighs as she did when she was nervous. Her beautiful, silver-starred dress riding up and down her legs.