Dragging the back of my hand across my face, I glare down at the man who was supposed to raise me. To mould me into a man worthy of being in this world. I feel sick to my stomach staring at those sunken eyes. My hands shake as I yank out a bunch of paper towels. When I hold them out to him, my father blinks at them, then at me, as if he doesn’t even know who I am. Maybe he doesn’t. It’s hard to tell.
‘You need help,’ I spit, sucking my teeth, tasting blood. ‘Take a good look, because you’ll never fucking see me again.’ As much as I hate myself for it, I wait, staring down at him, hoping he will say something. Apologise.Anything. ‘Did you hear me?’ I demand, closing my fists, attempting to reduce the trembling. ‘I’mnevercoming back here.’
The corner of my dad’s mouth twists. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.’
All the air leaves my lungs, and my heart breaks a little more. This is it. This is the last time my father and I will be in the same room. The man I’m supposed to love, respect and look up to. A scowling shell of a man who can’t even look me in the eye as I say goodbye.
I let Zayden steer me out of the house. I take in the faded wallpaper, the broken photo frames and my childhood paintings for the last time. I’ve said it many times before, but this time, I mean it: I’m not coming back.
I feel numb as I collapse into the passenger seat of my truck. Leaning forward, I cradle my head in my hands, the throbbing growing worse as the adrenaline fades.
‘Fuck,’ Zayden says softly, touching a hand to my back. ‘I’m so sorry, man. No one deserves that shit.’
‘Thank you,’ I exhale shakily. ‘For not listening.’
‘That’s the one thing I’m good at, you know.’
I can’t help but smile, but the pain that radiates through my head makes me feel I might pass out.
‘I think you should go to hospital,’ Zayden points out, gesturing to my side.
Pulling up my shirt, I look down at the cut. I shake my head. ‘Looks worse than it is. I’ll be fine.’
Zayden gives me a dubious look. ‘I’m not sure I agree with that.’
‘I’m fine. Trust me.’
Pressing his lips together, he nods, searching my face for a few long moments as I shove my shirt down and lean my head back.
‘Your mum leaving never had anything to do with you,’ Zayden says quietly. ‘Deep down, your dad knows that. He just needs someone else to blame.’
‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘It’s whatever.’
‘It’s not whatever, Mase.’
‘I don’t need her, or him. You and Anya are my family. You’re all I need.’
Zayden nods. ‘Always here for you, brother. No matter what.’
The rush of love and appreciation I have for my friends almost overwhelms me. But I clench my jaw and nod, holding in all the emotions threatening to release.
Turning my head, I take in the house for the last time.
24
MASON
Three Years Earlier
‘WHO’S BLOWING UP YOUR PHONE?’
Following Zayden’s gaze, I look down at my phone. I shrug. The locker room is eerily quiet. It’s not often there isn’t at least one other person in here. ‘Probably a group chat.’
‘We’re in all the same chats, dude,’ he replies, waving his phone around. ‘No notifications for me.’
I shrug again. ‘Check yourself if you must know.’
Zayden leans over, swiping my phone from the bench. He lets out a low whistle. ‘Oh, boy, you’re in trouble.’ He hands it over to me.
