Lance swung back around to face his old man, completely repulsed by the dick bag who’d fathered him.
“An investment!” the man shouted in protest. “Little shit’s too young to know the difference, but it’s an—”
“Okay. Time for you to go,” Lance spoke sharply, cutting his father off. Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, Lance shoved him towards the door.
“Get you’re fucking hands off me,” his father growled, pushing Lance away. Tanner took a quick step forward, but Lance gave him a hard look that said he should stand down.
“I’ll give you a choice. Either you leave here under your own steam, or I’ll knock your ass out and drag you out the door."
“Lance!” Parker shouted and tried to pull him away from their father.
Lance shrugged off Parker’s hand and squared his shoulders.
“You have no right to be here. This is not your house, and Mom doesn’t want you here, so get the fuck out.”
“Yeah? Where’s your mother, then? Why ain’t she saying that to my face? You little faggot, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Suddenly, he was steadier on his feet than he’d been before as he glared spitefully at Lance. “I’m gonna show you what men like me do to little fudgepackers like you, you piece of shit—”
Watching his father draw back his fist, he saw the punch coming. His brain told him to move out of the way, but his legs betrayed him. They stayed glued to the floor. Just as they had every other time his father had taken a swing at him. It would be the same this time, too. His father’s fist would make contact, and he’d feel skin and bones break—
But the punch never landed. Lance blinked uncomprehendingly, amazed to see Tanner catching his father’s fist in his, and then—then it was Tanner who threw a punch at Lance’s father before his drunk ass could move out of the way.
Tanner’s right hook knocked the old man clean off his feet. Instinctively raising a hand to his cheek, he grunted in pain. Unfortunately, he recovered quickly, getting back on his feetwith an angry roar. Then he launched himself at Lance, all 300 pounds of flab and muscle, arms spread wide, planning to knock him to the floor. But once again, his father’s plan failed. Instead, Tanner stepped between them, bearing the brunt of the attack, and took two steps back before swinging the big man down to the floor. His father landed hard on his back, his head making an audible crack when it connected with the wood floor. He stayed down for a few moments then finally rolled to his knees holding his head and moaning, his breathing ragged. He looked up at Tanner fearfully.
“Get the fuck out!” Tanner spat at him, and there must have been something feral and terrifying in Tanner’s expression, because the old man scrambled to his feet and limped his way to the front door. He paused to lean against the doorframe, looked back once to make sure Tanner wasn’t following him, and then staggered out the door.
Lance slammed the door behind him as Tanner collapsed with a loud grunt onto the couch. Lance knelt in front of him, struggling to understand what just happened.
“You—” he stuttered to a halt.
Tanner looked up and gave him a grin that could have split the night sky with light. “Your dad’s a dick. Might still need that excavator for tomorrow.” He winked at Lance and chuckled.
Lance suddenly noticed that Tanner was clutching his bad leg with both hands as if in pain. Before he could ask, Parker grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Parker screamed. There were tears in his eyes. Tears of anger. “He was here! Finally, we get a chance to talk to him. He was really here and you—”
“Dad’s a violent drunk who steals from his children. That’s all. A fucking piece of shit, that’s all he is, Parker, and all he’ll ever be.”
“No! I invited him! He wasn’t—”
“What the fuck! You invited him?”
“But—he just—he wanted to know where Mom lived!” Parker said haltingly, and Lance could tell the moment he realized that he’d fucked up.
“Why do you think that is?” Lance yelled angrily, unable to help himself. “Did you stop to think about why she’s fucking hiding behind a locked door right now? He’s a piece of shit, Parker. A violent—” he choked on his own anger, a sob escaping despite his efforts to suppress it. With a hand covering his mouth, he stopped to catch his breath. Looking deeply into his brother’s eyes, he saw an innocence he’d worked so hard to protect and preserve his whole life. Only to witness its destruction in one night.
He got himself under control, knowing that now he had no choice but to tell his brothers the truth. Otherwise, they’d never understand what just happened, and they’d never trust him again.
“When you were kids, Mom moved all of us around a lot to try to get away from him,” Lance said, figuring this was the best starting point to the story. “Dad—it wasn’t just the drinking,” he said, his voice rough with anger and pain. “He beat us—Mom, me—you,” he said, looking directly at Parker. Parker shook his head in swift denial, but Lance didn’t give him a chance to interrupt the story.
“You were only four or five years old when it happened,” Lance said, remembering the blackened bruise on his brother’s tiny body. He’d begged his mother to move. To leave. He’d begged until he was hoarse. It was the first time she’d ever listened to him. “Jeremy was a newborn. Dad came home onenight, drunk off his ass—” Lance shook his head and tried to swallow his tears. It was all so clear in his mind. He’d only been 12 years old, but the memories played like a movie. His father dragging his mother around the room like she was a ragdoll. Lance standing with his arms stretched across the doorway of his brothers’ bedroom to bar his father’s entrance. Standing there terrified and defenseless, as the old man treated his mother like a punching bag.
“We had to get out. It was the only way to protect ourselves. He’d have never stopped going after us,” Lance explained, knowing it wasn’t the full picture but hoping it was enough for his brothers to understand how much danger they’d been in back then.
Parker’s eyes widened in shock and filled with tears.
“I didn’t know,” he said, shaking his head, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I didn’t—” he croaked, and Lance reached for him. He wrapped his arms tightly around him.
“I know—” Lance said, clearing his throat. “I know,” he repeated, as his brother sobbed against his chest. He caught Jeremy’s troubled gaze.
