My dad nods, glancing back at me.
I tilt my head, acid rolling in my stomach. “Was she having an affair?”
He inhales, his chest rising heavily before dropping. “No.” Chills run up my arms, my hair standing on end. “One night, when you boys were alone with the kids, and Elena was anewborn, I followed her. She pulled into a parking lot—” His voice catches in his throat. “All those years, she was seeing a therapist, and I didn’t even know.”
A lump lodges in my throat. “Did she ever find out you followed her?”
He nods. “I was drunk when I drove there. She saw my truck out the window and confronted me about it later that night. I begged to do counseling with her. We were so off the rails, Colten. If she was trying to better herself, I wanted to do it alongside her. I wanted our old selves back…I wanted the woman I fell in love with, and I wanted to be the man she married again.”
Taryn’s hand vanishes from my lap. “What did she do when she found out you followed her?” she stutters from nerves.
His tired and red eyes flit to hers. “She said I didn’t trust her. That week, I tried harder. I would get home early and make dinner; I would take you, boys, out with the bow. I would clean and do little things around the house that I thought she would appreciate. She told me she would be home late one night, so when she came home and saw we were eating dinner together without her, something inside her broke.”
Another memory resurfaces from earlier that evening, seizing my body until it’s all I can fixate on.
Reaching for my beer,I take a sip, scanning everyone at the table as we all lounge around with full stomachs from the steaks Dad made. I smile at Jess, holding my new sister, Elena, across from me with my dad. Cameron sits on one end of the table while Tristan sits beside me in his high chair, and Brennan sits on my other side. It’s the first time in months we’vehad Cameron here since he’s visiting from school. Mom walks through the front door, her sad eyes settling on us as my dad sips his scotch.
“Honey, you’re back.” Dad smiles at her, but she stares at him blankly.
“Mom, I got an A on my math test today!” Jessica beams, rocking Elena in her arms.
“That’s awesome,” she tells her, but her tone is void of emotion.
Why is she so sad? Shouldn’t she be happy to see us? She’s been gone all afternoon.
“I left you some dinner in the fridge,” Dad says. “And I got most of the chores done on your list in the kitchen.”
She raises a brow, pushing a section of hair behind her shoulder. “You touched my list?”
My dad stills in the chair beside me. “Yeah, I came home early and wanted to—”
A fake smile barely touches her lips. “Well, it looks like you all are doing just fine without me.”
“Jane,” Dad exhales, pushing his chair away from the table.
She raises a hand, stopping him, disappearing out of the room without another word.
When she leftthe room while we were all sitting there, my dad didn’t run after her. He just snatched his glass off the dining table, draining all his scotch. He walked into the kitchen, returned with the bottle, and poured himself more.
I can still feel the uncomfortable silence clinging to my skin and the bitter taste of the beer I was drinking plastered on mytongue. I pushed the beer away, acid swirling in my gut because whenever he grabbed a bottle, chaos was sure to follow.
The air crackles with energy, electrifying my skin. It’s funny how traumatic experiences can erase everything, all the other essential details, until the only thing displayed in your vision is the horrific parts playing before your eyes.
That night shifts. My memory warps and twists until the puzzle pieces settle into place. My throat burns, and the center of my heart tears directly down the middle. Is it possible to throw up your vital organs?
My father lifts a hand to his face, his soft and broken voice drifting through the phone. “I ignored the signs…I should’ve seen the goddamn signs and gotten her help.”
Looking up from his lap, his face is red and puffy. He sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
“She wouldn’t just—” The words die on my tongue. I can’t say them. I swallow. “Why then? Why right after Elena was born?”
His eyes fall from mine. “After Tristan was born, we wanted to be done.”
“What do you mean?” I say through gritted teeth. “Your marriage?”
He shakes his head, the simple gesture confusing me more than anything he has said thus far. “Kids. We didn’t want any more kids.”
“But Elena—”
