He shoves the door and it hits the wall with a thud.
“You will be done when she’s done,” he says.
“Xavier, it’s fine. Don’t talk to him like that,” she says to him softly.
His gaze averts from me to her. “He doesn’t get to disrespect you.”
She looks down and fidgets with her necklace as she mumbles, “I deserve it. God knows I do.”
My throat feels thick with the cocktail of emotions that I can neither swallow nor retch up.
What am I to do? I can’t just forgive them for everything they’ve done just because they showed up to save me. It doesn’t measure up to the years they were not here. It doesn't erase the sick feeling that made me think that they hated me or didn’t want me. They checked up on me, sure, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing they did was enough.
They are strangers to me. I don’t know anything about them. Little things like how they like their coffee, when they leave for work, what’s their day like and the other things. I also don’t know if they love me, care about me or want me—that bit makes me feel pathetic.
Dad turns to me, his stormy gray eyes fill with fury. “Is this how it’s going to be? You fucking disrespect your mother?”
Mom grabs his arm as tears stream down her face. “Please, calm down.”
He looks at her. “Calm down? If it were anyone else but my son I’d have that person six feet under dirt for disrespecting youandmaking you cry.”
She quickly wipes her tears and plasters on a weak smile. “See? I’m fine. No need to be angry at him.”
His gaze lessens in heat and he mutters a few curses before taking her hand.
His other hand pushes me back into my room, as he enters inside with Mom beside him. Turning around he locks the door and stands in front of it.
What the actual fuck?
I glare at him, but he’s matching it with his own.
“Now, you will talk.” He tells me.
Mom pulls away from him and walks over to me. She’s short compared to my six-foot-two-inches frame, and thin against my muscular, lean body. Still, the sadness in her eyes and the sorrow on her face manages to disarm me like an arrow hitting me straight in the chest.
“Would you like to sit with me?” she asks hesitantly.
“No.” I deadpan.
Dad intensifies his glare on me.
Mom slowly nods. “Right, of course. I understand.” She takes a long breath then says, “Perhaps, I can hold you for a few seconds? I need to assure myself you’re okay and here with me.”
I frown hard. “I’m right here.”
Her blue eyes soften. “Please.”
Fuck. Her eyes remind me of Hope. Big and soft like a puppy. The one person in the entire fucking world I can’t refuse to.
“Fine,” I agree.
In a second, her slender arms wrap around my waist and she presses her face against my chest.
Something strange happens.I like it.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do if…”
On instinct my hand rests over her back. “Nothing happened.” I assure her.
