My brows crash when I spot my dad wandering—or limping—around the living room, looking around again. We’re quite the fucking pair.
“You shouldn’t be walking right now,” I mumble, avoiding his gaze as I set the cash and frozen food on the side table beside the front door. “Your body needs time to recover, and resting will help. The frozen food’s for your face, by the way.”
“Thanks. Can’t help it if I want to see what kind of a man my son’s turned himself into.” I feel his gaze on my back when I cross the room, heading toward the small storage closet. “Aren’t I allowed to be proud?”
Ready to argue, a comeback bubbles up my throat, but I swallow it down and grab the only extra blanket and pillow I own. I’m tired of fighting, and, honestly, I just want this night to be over with. It’s too much. I toss the bedding on the floor beside the sofa and nod toward it. “You can sleep there, but don’t expect breakfast in the morning. I’m out of food anyway.”
“Thank you.” He slips his hands into his front pockets, a sheepish look on his worn, haggard face. “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you wanted to see on your doorstep at two in the morning, but I can’t tell you how much this means to me. You’ve always been good, and one of these days, I’m gonna—”
“Conway ...” I swipe a hand over my face, the sting in my heart sharpening like a knife being pushed further inside.
“Yes?”
“You can stay tonight. I’m helping you tonight. But this? This can’t happen again. Next time I won’t let you inside. I can’t—” Shit, my throat’s thick with pressure, and I refuse to fucking lose it in front of him. “I can’t do it.”
“I understand.” His shoulders drop, and I hear the resignation in his voice. “It won’t happen again, I can promise you that. I’m getting it together, all right?”
I nod, even though we both know that’s a lie.
It’s not until ten minutes later, when our heads are on our respective pillows and we’re draped in the kind of silence only the middle of the night can bring, that the pressure in my chest builds to the point it’s fucking painful. I’m lying on my side with my back turned to him, but just knowing my dad is here, sleeping beside me, brings every childhood memory back to the surface. The good times, before we knew about the hell that was coming for our family. When I was his boy and he was my dad. His breaths are in tune with mine, and for a second, I even let myself imagine what life might have been like if he hadn’t let his addictions take over. If he hadn’t left us. If he’d thought Mom and I were worth fighting for.
“Son?” The whisper yanks me from my thoughts.
I don’t know how my voice will sound if I try to speak, so I only grunt.
“I know you might not believe me, and I’m not asking for forgiveness, but ...” There’s a pause. When he speaks again, I hear a tremble. “I do love you. Even if I don’t know how to show it, even if I’ll never deserve your love back, I just ... I need you to know. I love you.”
A lump rivaling the size of Texas forms in my throat, and, finally, I feel it. A heavy, wet drop spilling down my cheek. My body wracks with the urge to let it all out—all the emotion I’ve kept bottled up inside—but I’m terrified if I do, I won’t ever be able to rein it back in again.
A shaky breath pours from my mouth, but I stay silent otherwise.
The pathetic truth is, I love him too. I’ll always love him despite everything he’s done to us. And that kills me because his love isn’t worth shit. It’s not enough to make him want me. It’ll never be enough for him to come back for us.
A soft glint of moonlight pulls my gaze toward the window, where the curtain hangs partially open. The fabric still blocks Blue’s room, but I don’t need to see her window to envision her. The soft curve of her cheek against her white pillow, hair spilling wildly around her face.
I swallow through the knot in my throat, and it eases slightly.
Blue.
She eases everything. She makes me feel what it’d be like to be wanted—to be enough for someone. Her heart’s as pure as the moonlight outside my window. If anyone could love me enough to stay, it’s her.
Like my dad will never deserve my love, I’ll never deserve hers. But she makes me want to try. She makes me want to fight for it. My heart tightens at the thought of just how much I need her; how desperate I am for the one light in my life not to slip through the dark cracks of my fingers.
With that thought, my eyelids grow heavy. Eventually, pictures of Blue are all I see, her warmth slowly chipping away at the icy pain in my chest.
Hunt
Aharsh glow flits across my eyes, bright and intruding, until I finally force my lids open. I squint at the rays of sunlight pouring through the glass, last night crashing down on me all at once.
Conway’s here.
The throbbing in my side is a thousand times worse than before I fell back asleep, but I carefully twist around anyway. My unfocused gaze settles on a folded blanket stacked under a pillow, a small white paper on top. Unease rises in my gut, the sight a little too familiar for comfort, but I slowly lean forward and pick up the note.
I’m sorry.
That’s it. That’s all it says.
My fingers curl, wrinkling the edges of the paper. I reread it once, twice, three times before hot, red, angry stars race in my head and I’m shooting off the bed, pacing toward the kitchen. The cabinet door slams open. I shove my hand past the pipes, reaching, searching, but nothing’s there.
