"My dad—"
"Can go fuck himself. You and everyone else who not only encouraged me to use drugs, but who also lived off my earnings like hungry little lap dogs, can go find another fool. I'm done with all of you. If you're not for me, then you're against me." As he sputtered out a response, I tapped the red hang-up button and grinned.
Man, I haven't felt this alive in years.
Johnny was right. Ididneed to surround myself with people who cared about me—not for what I could do for them, but for what I meant to them.
I would get through rehab, and then I'd redirect my music career to enjoy it again. Music would become my world once more, and even though I knew my struggle was just beginning, I felt better knowing I had people like Viktor Farrow in my corner.
Chapter forty-two
Terri Kingston
Paxton'sletterburnedinmy brain and ravaged my heart. My family hadn'thelpedhim when we'd let him move in. Through my mother's horror at the scandal of finding us in bed and my father forcing Paxton out of our home, we helped put the poor boy on the road to self-destruction just as surely as his father's death had been the catalyst.
Hell, my family might've made it even worse.
I supervised a morning group of students by watching their forms and offering corrections and encouragement when needed.
"Block him, Kaylene." I motioned to the tiny thirteen-year-old female who'd started our class two months ago. In tears, she'd confided being bullied by her classmates and had hoped to learn how to defend herself. Over the past three weeks, her shoulders had become straighter, her spine more rigid, and her stride less timid. She also smiled now instead of frowning. "Put some bite in it, sweetheart. Keep your focus."
My mind wandered back to Paxton and that last day before he'd left. I wish I'd forced him to stop, to make him explain why he'd started packing and refusing to speak to me. I wish I'd confronted my parents. I wish I'd done something, anything, to keep him from the dark path he was on.
Deep down, didn't I know my parents had something to do with his abrupt departure? How could I not? Mom had just caught us fucking. Of course she would have wanted him sent away. Not because he'd soiled her precious child, but because she'd found it impossible for anyone to love the daughter she'd always enjoyed berating and humiliating.
"It's past time to put that old demon to rest."
"What?" Mick asked with wide eyes, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple as he paused in the middle of correcting a student's form.
"Nothing," I mumbled, grabbing a nearby towel and tossing it to him. "Is it okay if I head out early? There's some business I need to take care of."
"Sure." He waved a hand to the door. "I got this."
"Thanks." Smiling, I strode to my locker and changed out of my Gi, already practicing the speech in my head and imagining the look on my mother and father's faces.
The time for passivity had disappeared, along with playing nice. They would finally get an uncensored piece of my mind. It was time to answer for what they did to that desperate kid who should've been able to rely on the family who took him in and gave him hope.
I rang the doorbell of the red brick duplex and waited, letting my gaze rove the withered lawn. A small blue Subaru sat in the gravel driveway with the hot sun baking the paint on the roof. The clear coat peeled away in places, giving the vehicle an uneven, sad appearance.
Bet Mom hates driving that thing after owning a Rolls.A laugh tried to sneak out but I choked it down. I wasn't here to mock her misfortune, though it was hard not to smirk. All those worries about appearances and what her high-society friends were thinking and here she was...living in a low-class suburb with the rest of what she'd always called "the poorpart of town."
"Karma's only a bitch if you are," I whispered as heavy footsteps stomped behind the front door.
The click of a deadbolt turned, then Dad cracked the plain wooden door open. "Terri?" His eyebrows climbed. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't visit often, mainly the obligatory Christmas and Thanksgiving gatherings. Lana visited even less because Mom always chided her on the lifestyle she led, nagging that Lana could choose to like males, that she didn't understand why she wanted to embarrass the family like she did.
"We need to talk." I pushed on the door and Dad stumbled backward, giving me room to stride inside. "Where's Mom?"
"She's in the kitchen, getting ready to deliver some Scentsy to customers." He shut out the bright Arizona light and followed me down the narrow hallway. Uneven boards creaked as my feet trod the worn pathway.
I turned the corner to the kitchen and stopped.
Mom leaned over the chipped dining table, stuffing the wax melts into plastic bags and checking off each order on a list. "This order is barely going to be worth the hassle," she grumbled while straightening and rubbing her back. As she turned around, her sharp eyes landed on me. Time and her financial situation had not been kind. Crow's feet spread out from her eyes like bare branches, and her face, once flawless and even, had a pinched, worn appearance. "What do you want?"
"Gee. Hi to you, too, Mom." I slung my purse onto the kitchen counter and crossed my arms.
Her gaze flickered over my body. She smirked and lifted her chin. "Well, looks like you've missed a few days at that little gym you claim to work at."
