“Who hurt you?” I asked without looking up, ready to puke all over her white Keds.
I mean, really? White Keds? Was she six?
“You don’t—” Her voice cracked. “You don’t remember last night? Throwing a tantrum and chairs? Coming back here—”
“Look.” I winced as the need to puke surged closer to the surface. “I’m sorry if I said some shit that was hurtful; I was drunk, high off pills I should have never had in the first place. And sad, so fucking sad.” I finally looked up at her as a wave of tension pulled tight between us. “All I remember is waking up in my bed, so if you’re the one that helped me…” God, this was painful. “Thank you.”
“Ash…” She chewed her lower lip as tears filled her eyes. “You really don’t… you really don’t remember anything else?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and smiled. “I remember her.”
“Her?” She gulped.
“Claire,” I whispered. “Look, I know I sound crazy, but she was there, maybe, maybe it was the drugs, I don’t know, but if I have to keep talking, I can at least promise you that I’m going to start puking.”
“Sorry.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“Why the hell do you cry so much?” I snapped, my head pounding at the temples so hard that I thought I was going to die from the pain. Besides, her tears reminded me of so much hurt that I’d yet to process it reminded me I needed to grieve, which reminded me she was dead. Which meant every time Annie cried…
I thought of Claire.
She jumped a foot. “Wh-what?”
“See, that’s what I mean!” I needed someone to be angry with, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be angry with myself, and she was standing there so fucking perfect in her fucking sweater looking like sunshine.
And I hated her for it.
When you’re suffering, you want everyone around you to suffer.
Everyone.
Most of all, the ones who seem to have more happiness than you. Because if you can just steal away some of that happiness, maybe your sadness won’t be so heavy.
If you can punch the hell out of their smile.
It won’t hurt so much when you frown.
“I don’t understand.” Her eyes narrowed, filling with more tears. “I was just checking up on—”
“I don’t like you.” I snapped. “At all. I don’t want to fuck you. I sure as hell don’t want to be your friend, Annie, so you don’t need to check up on me because I’m not that guy. I’m not gentle. If you were sick, I’d probably tell you to toughen up and then drop off soup at your door in case you’re contagious. I’m not that guy, so I don’t know why you keep trying. It’s like you think you see something in me that you can save when I don’t want saving. I don’t need rescuing. And I would never pick you of all people to be my hero, even if I did.”
Her eyes widened, and she stumbled backward, her head shaking like she couldn’t believe what I was saying when I’d never promised her otherwise. It was confusing as hell.
I sighed. “Look, just because we almost screwed after the pool house means nothing.” I knew it was a mistake, letting her play that part months ago while Valerian snuck into my house.
She was supposed to be the slutty distraction.
And I wasn’t supposed to get so hard that I wanted nothing more than to take her into my bedroom and strip.
I’d been depressed.
Angry.
And she’d been easy.
That was it.
I didn’t even realize I’d just said all of that out loud until she gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
“Shit, Annie—”
“No.” She held up her shaking hands. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Her smile was so damn forced.
She’d always been gorgeous.
But so damn pure that it was impossible not to hate her.
We always hated what we couldn’t have.
And she had peace.
I was a son of war.
The two would never… could never meet.
She turned on her heel and muttered something about letting me drown in my own vomit before slamming the door behind her.
Huh, maybe she did have some spunk.
“Ash.” Dad’s voice brought me back to the present. When I looked up, all I saw was rage.
Fantastic.
Scary Dad was gonna go in for the kill.
In three.
Two.
One.
“You owe me.” He clenched his jaw. “The only reason your mom doesn’t know about the pills is because I kept it from her—from your friends, your family. So here’s how this is gonna work.”
I clenched my teeth and waited for it.
“You’re going to put on a shirt that doesn’t have bloodstains on it from sparring with Tank, you’re going to get your ass in whatever car that’s going to get you there faster. You’re going to put a fucking smile on your face, and you’re going to pick up Annie from the airport. If she wants French fries because she’s hungry, I expect you to stop at no less than five places so she can pick her favorite. If she wants you to take her shopping, you hand over the Amex. If she wants you to start rapping? You fucking ask her which song she wants to hear. You. Are. Her. Slave. Do you understand me?”
“But, Dad—”
“No ‘but Dads.’” He jabbed his finger at me. “Consider your atonement finished only as long as she gets back to this house without looking like she’s been crying. You don’t deserve to breathe next to her, let alone be the reason for her tears.”
“You do realize I’m your son, right?” I sneered.
He grabbed me by the shirt and shoved me against the nearest wall. His smile was cruel. “My son died that day; I’ve yet to see him return.”
Slitting my throat would have hurt less.
We stared each other down.
The room was heavy with tension.
Sick with sadness.
God, when would it finally end?
“That was a low blow, even for you, Sen…a…tor.” I drew out the title, knowing he hated it—especially coming from his only son.
His eyes flashed. “Baiting me won’t make you feel better, believe me.” He shoved me back against the wall, then adjusted his tie and cracked his neck. The tats on his hands seemed to come alive with warning as he moved like he wanted me to know he would punch his own son in hopes of knocking some sense into him.
“Fine.” I looked away so I wouldn’t see the disappointment in his eyes. “I’ll take the Tesla, as much as it pains me to admit, it’s faster than the Lambo.”
He let out a snort. “Never let Tex hear you say that.”
“I think he wept the day an electric sedan beat his sports car.” I sighed and then went over to my dresser to grab a T-shirt.
“It will get easier,” Dad whispered. “One day. Not today, not tomorrow, I don’t know when, but one day, you won’t feel like you’re in purgatory.”
“I don’t feel like I’m in purgatory, Dad…” I looked over my shoulder. “I feel like I’m reliving Hell.”
His eyes softened for a minute before he gave me a nod and then turned around and left.