Take Me On(56)

Wetness fills my eyes and I slam my fist into the floor, pissed. Rachel moves to the edge of the bed. “Then you win her back.”

“Dad will give her what she wants.” I stop. Fuck me. Fuck him. Fuck all of this. “He’s not my dad.”

She’s silent for a second and the sigh that escapes her lips cuts deep. “Mom told us.”

There’s a flop next to me and my eyes widen when a groggy Ethan rests his head against the bed. “Can we get the mental breakdown over so I can get some sleep?”

“Why are you in here?”

“The same reason you are,” he says. “The same reason the three of us ever do anything and end up together. Though our problems seemed a lot less complicated when we were pouring bubble bath into the Jacuzzi. It doesn’t matter who your dad is, West, because the real Youngs, they’re in this room. It’s always been the three of us against everyone else. For some reason, it’s just taken us longer to get back together.”

I lower my head into my hands and I fight the wave of grief that sweeps over me. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“Well, if we get a vote, can you stop being Dad?”

“Ethan,” Rachel chastises.

Anger curls within me. “What did you say?”

“He’s here, Rach, and he’s asking for help. We either say this now or lose the opportunity.”

She settles back onto the pillows, a silent acceptance.

“You’re pissed because Dad painted you into a bad spot with Haley, right?” Ethan says.

I nod, but I’m madder at myself.

“Shouldn’t Haley be mad at you for taking away her choice? To me, that sounds a lot like how Dad treats us.”

“You say you don’t know who you are,” adds Rachel. “But the question should be—who do you want to be?”





Chapter 69




Haley

My uncle waits for us on the stoop. With the front porch light off, he’s more of a shadow, but the evil pulsating from the house tells me it’s him. He leans against the metal pole supporting the overhang and watches as Kaden and Jax drag my half-conscious father toward the house.

“What time is it?” asks Kaden.

“Doesn’t matter,” answers Jax. “The bastard isn’t going to let any of us in.”

Yet we continue forward. “It’s his brother. He’ll take him in,” I say. Maybe not us, but hopefully he’ll take my father. “We’ll tell him Dad’s sick.”

“Is there a flu where you reek of beer?” Jax readjusts his hold on my father. The rain continues its onslaught and it makes holding on to anything close to impossible. “There’s a reason why my dad’s a psychotic control freak. Dad’s dad would get drunk, then beat the hell out of him. PTSD isn’t just for soldiers.”

Jax and Kaden stop on the street in front of the house and share a long, hopeless look. Kaden nods to the curb and both he and Jax lower Dad to it. “Keep an eye on him, Hays.”

Dad sways and I rush to his side for support. Chills run through my body as I sit in a stream of water rushing to the sewer grate. Dad mumbles something and I can’t hear it over the pounding of the rain against the rooftops and the roaring of the water in the sewer tunnels below.

Above us an aging streetlamp buzzes to life. The dull light flickers, creating an eerie strobe. I close my eyes as rain flows over me like a violent waterfall. How did I end up here? How did my life get out of control? “Why?”

Dad lifts his head and John’s words echo in my mind: He’s lost his fight. Anger swells within me and becomes a tidal wave pouring onto shore. “Why!”

Behind me, Jax and Kaden begin to plead. Dad rubs his hands over his face. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”

When I was twelve, my father fought his last match. His opponent was half his age, stronger and agile, but my father had skill. I remember watching the bout, my hands wringing together and I kept my eyes glued to my father as if my will was enough to push him to win.

It was a bloody fight. Twice he went down. Twice he got back up. At the end of five rounds, my father stood victorious. Now, he sits in a gutter.

“You don’t drink. This isn’t you,” I whisper.

Dad raises his head to the sky and he blinks as if he’s drifting into coherency. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

I think of home...my home...my bed. I should be there, lying in that upstairs corner room. When it rained, the wind chimes beneath my window on the porch would tinkle and I’d snuggle deeper into the blanket, grateful for protection.

But I’m not there. I’m here. I’m rotting in the sewer next to the father that disappointed me. This disillusion, this overwhelming sense of being let down, it has nothing to do with losing the house or homeless shelters or that we live in hell. “How could you give up?”

I shiver, not from the cold but because I feel like someone died—like my father died and he died months ago, but I’m just now discovering the truth.

I glance over my shoulder as footsteps approach. Jax grabs his father’s arm as he stalks in our direction. “He’s sick, Dad. Let Kaden and I get him in bed.”

My uncle twists away from Jax and I lean into my father. “You’ve got to lie. It’s past curfew and it’s the only way we’re getting in. John’s out looking for you and the last bus to the gym is gone. We’re out of options.”

He reaches over and pushes the drenched hair away from my face. “Why did you come after me? You should be safe in bed.”

My teeth audibly click together and the hurt overpowers me, taking me down as if I was tackled below the knees. I want to cry. I want to scream, but I can’t. Those are the ways of a child and I’m no longer one. I’m the adult chasing after her father. “Because I don’t abandon the people I love. I wouldn’t do what you’re doing to me right now.”

“Help me up.”

I stand and hold my hand out to him. He takes it and with more effort than it should take, he shakes to his feet. My uncle rounds on us. The rain has already soaked through his black T-shirt. “What’s wrong with you?”

“He’s sick,” I answer. “Let us get him inside before he passes out again.”

The glare he throws me causes my spine to straighten. “Unless I speak to you directly, keep your mouth shut.”

I bite my lip to halt a response from spewing from my mouth. I hate him. I hate how he demeans me. I hate how he makes me feel as big as a speck of dust and what I hate more is that he’s done the same thing to my father, to Jax, to everyone. There’s definitely a hell and he’s on the expected list.

I pray my uncle keeps the distance between them. Maybe, just maybe, through the rain, he won’t notice the strong scent of alcohol.

“I felt sick this morning,” Dad says. “And it got worse on the bus ride home. I sat down near the side of the road and must have passed out.”

My uncle moves closer and the anxiety within me surges to new highs. He rocks forward and sniffs. I briefly close my eyes. He knows. My uncle knows. “You are a damned failure.”

The world tunnels as I stare at my uncle. My father a failure? Kicked down maybe, but not out. I’ve seen him struggle to his feet before and he can do it again.

Dad lowers his head. “I know.”

I step in front of him, clutch his shirt with both hands. “You’re not!”

“I am.” His voice breaks.

“Listen!” I bend my knees so I’m smaller than him in his broken state. “You are the strongest person I know. We can do this. You just have to get your fight back.”

“Let me go, Hays. It’s better if you let me go.”

“But...”

Dad pulls my hands off his shirt and stumbles back to the ground. My fingers still curl in the air as if I’m still holding on to him and I realize blankly that’s what I’ve been doing for months—holding on to a corpse.

I flinch as if someone shot a high-powered rifle into the night. There was a shot except there was no sound. Only the rain against the street. For months, my uncle has been firing bullet after bullet in my father’s chest and my father stood there and took it until he completely bled out.

And I’m no different. I’ve done the same thing. My head tilts and the world spins as I look over at my uncle. He can fire all he wants because I’m finally firing back.

Before rational thought catches up to the emotion, I explode into my uncle’s face. “He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be! You’re the one that’s pathetic. Hiding behind words, behind threats, and when you’re too scared you shift into a waste of a little boy and belittle those who can’t protect themselves. If you’re so strong and so powerful, then hit me, you son of a bitch, because I’ll hit you back.”

He doesn’t even shrink from my proximity. Instead he becomes blank stone. “Pack your shit, get out of my house and take your pathetic family with you.”

Dizziness wavers my vision and I suck in raindrops as I try to breathe. Months of telling West to contain his anger and I go and lose control of mine at the wrong critical moment. What have I done? “I’m sorry.”

“Too late.”