She needed space and a break from the destruction I’d caused. I waved her off and slid into Hank’s car. As the car drove down the street, I looked back to see everything I’d ever known fading into the distance—my friends, school, hometown, even Mom. My stomach churned, and I thought I might be sick.
Then again, the nausea could have been because of his god-awful car freshener.Who the fuck picks Green Apple? Is he trying to torture me?
We drove in painful silence for a solid hour before Hank said, “I know you don’t want this, but I’m glad you’re staying with me. I—” he cleared his throat and white-knuckled the steering wheel. “—I’m hoping we can…patch things up.”
Patch things up?Patch things up?You know that scene inCluewhen Madeline Kahn’s character, Mrs. White, is so fucking enraged she says that fantastic line, “It-it- the f - it -flam - flames. Flames, on the side of my face, breathing-breathl- heaving breaths, heaving breaths…” Yeah, that was me at that moment.PATCH THINGS UP?Like I’m a pair of ripped Wranglers?You left me to sink into my guilt! I had to watch Mom turn to stone to keep from collapsing into a weeping mess every day. You married some blonde bitch and replaced me with her son, and you want to patch things up? I needed you four years ago and you fucking ran, you coward!
The urge to open the car door and throw myself out of the moving vehicle was palpable.Maybe military school wasn’t such a bad idea, after all?
No, I needed hockey. It was the one thing preventing me from succumbing to the vices I used to escape this miserable, fucking world.
Whatever Hank had done since the last time I saw him certainly didn’t involve a tutorial on talking to his dejected son without making said son want to Hulk-out and snap his father’s neck while he merged into the passing lane.
I tried to steady my breathing as my hands clenched.I’ll show you how I patch things up.“Interesting. And this desire to patch things up happened before or after Mom forced me on you?”
Hank’s throat bobbed, and a dusting of pink on his cheeks betrayed the anger or embarrassment—I couldn’t decipher which one—in response to what I just asked. “Rafael… I know I didn’t—”
“Yes, youdidn’t.” I let that linger. Hank didn’t do many things, and if he wanted to patch things up, it would take a lot more than canned Hallmark one-liners in his Audi A4 that smelled of rotten apples. “How about Jill and Cody? Are they as eager to patch things up as you are?”
That one got him.Good. I’ve still got it.That dusting of pink darkened to crimson, and his eyes narrowed. I could have sworn his hands started shaking as he tightened his grip on the wheel even more.
“Rafael. You are allowed to be angry with me. I know things between us won’t be easy for a long time. If ever. I have to earn whatever relationship you want to give me, but Jill and Cody have donenothing.Direct your anger at me. Not them.” He glanced in the rearview mirror before turning to me and pleading, “Please.”
Bad move, old man. You showed your hand, and the game’s just started.
I already couldn’t wait to fuck with Jill and Cody, but knowing this was the way to take the new and improved Hank and toss him in an emotional combine made their impending destruction truly exhilarating.
I pulled up a leg, planting my foot on the seat, and tapped my knuckles against the window. “How is the dynamic blond duo?”
Hank’s blanching face ignited the monster in me. Could he tell I was salivating as my mind swirled with the beautiful possibilities of how I’d turn his wife and stepson into mincemeat? His expression told me yes.
“Jill’s fine. She volunteers a lot at her church—”
“How noble,” I gasped.I forgot Jill was religious. Even better.
Hank continued, “And Cody just celebrated his eighteenth birthday. He had a fun time with his hockey teammates.”
Cody and I were eighteen and entering our senior year, which was later than usual. For some reason, he had repeated the first grade, and I had taken a year off after Mattie passed. I vaguely remembered Hank mentioning Cody’s love of hockey right before the wedding, but, you know, cognac and all.Fuck him and his good taste in sports.
“You didn’t answer my question, though. How do they feel about my impending arrival?”
Hank’s face sank, and his eyes looked tired.There’s the old Hank I remember.“Rafael, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. When your Mom called, I-I want to make things right.”
I didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive—the time to make things right had passed. I needed him so badly four years ago. I needed him to tell me it wasn’t my fault, but instead, he ran. It would never be all right.
Chapter 4
Cody
A car door slammed, sending my heart into my throat. A second one followed, and I knew my days of peace were numbered. I crept to my window and saw Hank and Rafael approaching the house.Fuck me.
Rafael had a backwards Yankees cap, a black tank, and oversized jeans. Even from the second story, I could make out the scowl on his face. My transfixed gaze followed each step he took.
I hated seeing him again. I scoffed at his black clothes and stupid-ass swagger. He was trying so hard to look like a bad boy.That shit pissed me off. He lived in a mansion for Christ’s sake! He wasn’t a badass.Iwas a badass.
Mom and I lived in some of the worst neighborhoods with the worst schools for years. Did anyone ever beat his ass and take his backpack with everything in it on the first day of second grade? Did he ever cry because he couldn’t afford the equipment to play the sport he loved? Did he ask for seconds at birthday parties only to shove the food in his bag for later because the refrigerator at home was empty? No. Because he was a spoiled fucking asshole.
He looked up, and our eyes locked. I froze where I stood, the bottom dropping out of my stomach. He looked over at Hank and then at the house. His scowl turned to a menacing grin as he shot a middle finger up at me.Still a fucker.
