I hate that he’s right.“I meant it,” I say stiffly.“And I still handled everything.”
“Of course you did,” he snaps back, temper sparking.“You always will, because you refuse to let anyone else touch anything.But you don’t get to tell me I’m not needed and then crucify me for not being here.If you weren’t so damn narrow-minded and stuck on yourself, you’d know that.”
My hand curls around the mug until I feel the heat through my skin.“I can already tell what kind of parent you’re going to be.”
His eyes narrow to slits.“Say that again.”
“You’ll always have an excuse,” I say, the words coming out like broken glass.“The game, the guys, the pressure, the—whatever.You’ll choose that.And I’ll be here, doing the real work, because that’s what people like me do.We pick up what other people drop.”
He stares at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking.“So going out for a few hours means I’ve failed as a father?”
“It’s a start,” I say, and immediately want to swallow it back, because it’s ugly and it’s mine and I don’t want him to see it.In this moment, I actually hate myself.
He steps closer.“This seems awful personal to you, Maddie.”
Heat surges up my throat.“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then enlighten me,” he fires back.“Because from where I’m standing, I’m trying.I rearranged my life, I brought you here, I’m in it.And every time I take a step, you move the goalposts.”
“That analogy is lost on me,” I reply, not because I don’t understand, but because I’m embarrassed that my insecurities have taken me hostage.
He barks a humorless laugh.“Then let me spell it out.You’re being incredibly unfair.You said you didn’t need me.I went out.Now I’m the bad guy because it fits some story in your head.”
I feel the floor tilt, shame rising within me unchecked and I have no choice but to lash out.“It’s not a story,” I say, my voice going low and dangerous.“It’s a pattern.Parents who always choose themselves over their kids.Parents who promise they’ll show up and don’t.Who swear they only had a couple beers, or snorted a few lines, and who swear it’s just this once, who swear and swear until swearing is all there is.”My throat tightens.“I know exactly how that ends.”
Then the worst thing happens.Empathy fills his expression.“You’re talking about your life,” he guesses.“This isn’t about what you see in social work but rather what you’ve lived.”
My gaze drops to the table, ashamed I let that much out.I’ve never spoken of my parents to anyone except Gray.
Atlas’s voice is rough.“Drugs?Alcohol?”
“Both,” I mutter, unable to put my walls up fast enough to keep that a continued secret.
“And that made them undependable,” he concludes.
My eyes shoot up to his, blazing with hatred.“No, it made them monsters.”
Atlas takes a step back from me, the venom in my voice seeming to propel him.But it doesn’t make him a coward as he presses me.“What did they do?”
“Enough to land me in foster care for most of my childhood.Trust me when I say, I’m well aware of what a shitty parent can do to a child.”
Atlas’s eyes narrow.“You’re calling me a shitty parent?”
A wave of guilt hits, because that was a low blow.“No.I’m sorry.I’m not calling you that.I’m only saying, you have no clue—”
“At least your parents had a reason,” he says quietly, cutting off my words.Cutting off my indignation.
“What does that mean?”I ask hesitantly because I’m curious, but I don’t think I’ll like the answer.
“Addiction.Demons.Whatever you want to call it, part of it was probably due to a force beyond your parents’ control.”He stares at me expectantly, as if the answer is so obvious.“I’m not excusing them, I’m just pointing out that there are different types of shitty parents.Mine didn’t have an excuse.They just didn’t care.No demons.No addictions.Just complete indifference.”He stares at me, the pain evident.“I don’t know which is worse.”
A wave of sorrow hits me and I’m not sure what I’m regretful about.Sorry my childhood sucked?Sorry that Atlas’s childhood clearly sucked?“Atlas—”
He shakes his head.“That’s why Gray was everything,” he says, looking at me… no, looking through me.“He showed up, every time.He was the family I picked when the one I had was a joke.”His words slice, even as his eyes soften in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.“I bet that’s the biggest thing we have in common.He was the only one you had too.”
I nod vigorously, because he nailed it.“He was my person.And then he went and—” I swallow against the ache.
Atlas runs a hand through his hair and releases an exhausted sigh.He pulls out the chair adjacent to me and sinks down into it.
