I love you. It’d been the phrase Dakota and I had heard our entire lives. One that was a quick reminder of our Dutch ancestry. Thanks to Mom, I’d been able to pick up basic phrases in Amsterdam like please and thank you. But I had certainly never used the words she’d just uttered with anyone besides my family.
My mother still retained a slight Dutch accent, but it really rose to the surface when she was upset or angry. That was her tell, and right now, I knew she was frustrated with my father. Probably thought he was being too rigid. But I deserved it. I’d never compare to Dakota, who had blind ambition and worked hard to please my parents and make them proud.
I’d just always preferred flying under the radar and doing my own thing. Except that plan wasn’t quite working out for me. I should’ve protested more to my manager in Amsterdam. Honestly, girls came on to me all the time. How in the hell was I supposed to know that Johan would walk in right at that moment?
Sure, I needed to cut back on the weed. It slowed my reaction time and made me care even less about the things happening around me. Even Rachel had noticed. Which was so not cool.
Last night probably needed to be my last hurrah with pot. The phone call with my father this morning was only the beginning. Mom apparently had a nice little chat with her cousin in Amsterdam about the stash of dope I’d left in a drawer. Dad said if I didn’t shape up, he’d make me submit to the company drug policy. He probably would anyway. So I’d better not come in looking like I’d smoked.
I may have stopped lighting up whether or not Rachel had asked me to. But old habits die hard, so I needed to be more determined than before. If only she’d allow me to believe that she was soley thinking of me when we’d been together last night.
I tightened my fists at the same self-loathing thoughts that had filled my head the last couple of years. When would I finally get my shit together?
My problem was that I never stood up for what I believed in. Everything I did was half-assed. I didn’t fight for Rachel, for my education, or go after the jobs I wanted. I deserved a swift kick in the balls from my parents.
I was good at making people feel things—lust, happiness, anger. But never admiration. The thought of that hit me so squarely that I was thankful to be sitting down.
“You’re not saying you’re a fan of his piercings,” my father said disapprovingly to my mother.
“No. I’m not a fan,” she said, and then stifled a grin. “Well, maybe a little.”
My father huffed, and my mother strode over, laying her hand on his arm in an intimate gesture I’d seen hundreds of time. Still, I looked away. I felt an ache—a longing, deep inside my bones.
“Have you forgotten what it was like to be young already?” she mumbled to my father. His eyes softened. “Let’s not be the type of parents who stifle their children. We never have, and I don’t want to start now.”
Mom was one of the coolest women on the planet, and I loved that she and my father were equals. She was confident and feisty and reminded me of a certain someone who wasn’t related to me. Even Dakota was practically her twin. Too bad I hadn’t inherited the confidence gene, either. Other than in the bedroom.
“Maybe that’s where we’ve gone wrong with Kai,” my father muttered, but I got the message. Typically my parents didn’t speak openly about rearing their children, but I could feel my father’s stinging disappointment from across the room. And lately it was really starting to affect me.
“It’s a good thing you’ve got Dakota to be proud of,” I said, and my father cringed. His eyes reflected regret, and I immediately felt awful.
“Son . . .” he began.
“It’s okay, Dad. I get it,” I said. “Whether you believe it or not, I actually do think that I have rocking parents.”
“And we have a rocking son,” Mom countered, but I wished it had come from my father’s lips instead. “Your father is understandably upset. I hope one day you’ll tell us what the bloody hell really happened in Amsterdam.”
“What always happens,” my father’s voice roared through the small space. “He screwed around and didn’t think about the consequences.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad!” I said, my own anger finally unleashing. “There’s no way in hell I screwed around with her. Do you think I have a death sentence or something? It was a total misunderstanding.”
“Then why didn’t you stand up for yourself?” Mom asked, her gaze searing into mine. “Fight for what’s right?”
My shoulders sagged. I was pretty sure my father didn’t believe me. And he had no reason to in the past. But this time had been different. “I . . . I don’t know.”