Take Me On(7)

“She’s gotten permission to let us stay.”

I assess the kitchen. This house is the dirty dark secret of hell on earth, but the thought of leaving Kentucky cuts my soul. Leaving the state means we’ve given up hope and it wasn’t until this very moment that I realize I’ve held on to a shred. No matter how battered and bruised the shred is, it’s still faintly alive, praying that Dad will land a job and take us home. “Are we leaving?”

“We’re going to try to hold on until you and Kaden graduate. We’ll go if things haven’t improved by then.”

“You’ll find something. I know you will.”

“How’s the college search going?” Dad rushes out.

I freeze, unsure how to respond. I’ve kept the rejection private, though I crave to tell Dad. Once upon a time, he would have been the first person I approached with any problem because he always had the right words. He’d place an arm around my shoulder, kiss my temple and tell me, “Bad luck, kid. We’ll get ’em next time.”

The hurt inside, knowing I’ve let him down with the gym and kickboxing and now college, it’s like being gutted open by a serrated blade. “The college search is going great.”

“Do you have any scholarship leads?”

No. “Yeah. Plenty.”

“Good.” A pause. “Good. At least Kaden has the gym.” His voice cracks as his skin fades into the color of ash. The expression is off when all my memories of him are of a courageous fighter. I’ve watched my dad battle in the ring against opponents who were stronger than him and win. How did he become this broken?

Dread causes my hands to jerk because I itch to stick them over my eyes. It’s awful to watch his undoing, knowing I’m partly responsible. If I had gotten the meds, he wouldn’t obsess over his mistakes and he could start sleeping at night.

“Kaden will continue on at the gym, but I thought I’d have something to offer you for college. I had some money tucked away, not a lot, but enough to help, but then we needed it for the mortgage...”

A strange noise leaves Dad’s throat as he slides his chair back. “Library.”

Though it’s not open for a few more hours. Dad squeezes between the wall and the table and as he’s on the verge of leaving the kitchen, I open my mouth. “Daddy...”

My father presses a hand against the doorframe, his knuckles shifting as he tightens his grip. I haven’t called him that in years. He peers at me from over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, Hays. I know.”





Chapter 10




West

The intensive care unit of the hospital has that slasher-movie quiet to it. That moment right before the psycho jumps out from behind a counter and hacks the people to bits. From the family waiting room, I can hear the occasional monitor beeping, the rustle of paper and the low murmur of conversation between the nurses. I loathe this place. It’s cold, sterile, smells of rubbing alcohol and is filled with death.

Rachel shouldn’t be here. This place is the opposite of her. Unable to sit anymore, I jerk out of my seat. The guy on the other side of the room tugs his head up to look at me. We stare at each other. His wife is dying. I overheard him tell someone a few minutes ago.

Dying.

As I said, Rachel doesn’t belong here.

I glance away and walk to the windows. My jaw hurts. The knuckles on both my hands are scratched to hell and throb like a bitch. I drove here hours ago. Abby visited Rachel and left. I texted Dad and told him I was here.

Silence—from my entire family. From my way older brothers, Jack and Gavin, to Rachel’s twin, Ethan, to Mom and Dad. They want me to visit Rachel, but I can’t. Not with her here, not with her surrounded by people who are dying.

I failed her. My heart pounds hard and the sharp ache creates an edginess. I shut my eyes, wishing I could leave.

“West.”

I turn to the sound of my mother’s voice. Tears have dug grooves into her makeup and her black mascara smudges in clumps near her eyes.

Nausea slams into my gut. “Is it Rachel?”

“We talked to the hospital’s specialist. The damage to her legs is severe and—” Mom chokes on her words, then clamps a hand over her mouth. She exhales and regains composure. “It was unexpected news.”

I harden into a statue, yet her words sink in past my shock. More surgeries. More time in the hospital. “Is she going to walk again?”

“I don’t know.”

I rub my eyes to readjust my equilibrium. This is my fault. If I had found another way to handle things, Rachel wouldn’t be in this hospital. She wouldn’t be fighting for her life.

Mom’s heels click across the wooden floor toward me. When she raises her hand, I tilt my head away. I don’t deserve Mom’s forgiveness or her comfort. Persistent, Mom gently lays her hand on my jaw and moves her thumb as if her touch could erase the bruises. “Why do you do this to yourself? Why must you always fight?”

“I don’t know.” I step back, forcing her to drop her hand.

Mom puts distance between us and pours herself a cup of coffee. “Have you visited with Rachel?”

“No.” A sweep of the room confirms the guy with the dying wife vacated. No wonder Mom’s being open about family business.

A gruff clearing of a throat draws our attention to the doorway. Dad stretches to his full six feet and sets his pissed-off dark eyes on me.

“Miriam.” He softens his tone when he addresses Mom. “The nurses need you.”

Mom nods, and as she hurries out, Dad gently wraps his fingers around her wrist. She lifts her gaze to his and he bends down to kiss her lips. They do this. My parents love each other. Dad worships her, and it’s why he’s a control freak with us. If everything isn’t about business, it’s about Mom’s happiness.

When Dad releases her, she leaves. Not once peeking in my direction.

I stand taller when Dad enters, as if preparing for a physical fight. We’ve yet to come to blows during an argument, but the fire in his eyes says that day will happen. Sooner now than later, and I hate it. When I was a kid, Dad and I used to be close.

“You didn’t come here last night like I asked.”

I stay silent. The truth won’t help my case. I’ve been in detention more than any kid at my school and have been suspended more days than we’ve had off. Dad, in his own way, takes my shit, but he made it clear months ago that he’d be done with me at expulsion.

“Did you go home or did you pass out at a party?” he asks.

“Does it matter?” I’ve seen that expression before. He’s already made up his mind on me.

“No,” he answers. “They’ve expelled you.”

I utter something I’ve never said to him. “I’m sorry.” I am. For Rachel. For the fight at school. For making this horrible situation more complicated.

His face remains emotionless. “I don’t care.”

I blink and my shoulders fall a half inch. “I mean it. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to the principal, to the guy I hurt, his family, whatever. I screwed up this time.”

He points at me. “Damn right you screwed up. But not just this time. This is one of many mistakes, and I’m done with it. I told you months ago that I drew the line at expulsion. All you had to do was stay out of fights and stay out of trouble until you graduate and you couldn’t even do that. What’s worse is that you chose to cross this line with your sister in the hospital. What is this? A cry for attention? You don’t think that your mother has enough to deal with?”

“Fine. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“Your sister is in agony and from what I understand you had a hand in this nightmare.”

My eyes snap to his. “I tried to keep her from Isaiah.” That’s where I failed, and I don’t care for the reminder.

“You never bothered telling me she was seeing him in the first place! I’m her father, not you. I’m the one who makes those decisions.”

I throw my arms out to my sides. “That would have required you to be home and not on your goddamn phone!”

A muscle in his jaw jumps. I drew blood and I don’t fucking care.

“Care to tell me about the money you took from your sister?” I don’t like the way his eyes slice through me, as if he shoved a blade into my chest and he’s enjoying watching me bleed.

“I told Rachel I’d pay her back.”

“Tell me about the money you took from your sister.”

“I told you already. Gavin owed money to a bookie and I came up with the amount needed.”

“You never told me you stole that money from Rachel.”

“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it.” Without her prior knowledge or consent, but I swear I promised to pay her back.

This is old news from days before Rachel’s accident. Not knowing I had the situation under control, Jack broke down and told Dad everything: how Ethan, Jack and I had been covering up Gavin’s gambling issues because Mom couldn’t handle the truth that her firstborn son was a gambling addict.

But when Jack cried to Daddy, he neglected to bring up how Gavin tried to discuss his problems with Dad on three separate occasions and how each time Dad blew him off over a business meeting or Mom. So when Dad wouldn’t give him the time of day, Gavin did what needed to be done: he came to me.