Derek broke away from Basil and walked to a closet door. He wrenched it open and found a set of golf clubs which looked well-polished and new. They’d probably seen courses Derek would never be able to afford, registered to country clubs who would turn Derek and Sage both away on appearance alone.
He found his hand reaching for them, plucking one of the putters from the collection. It was heavy in his hand as he twisted his wrist, testing the balance. He moved away from the closet, to a tall shelf with the most important photos of Brian on display. One of him being sworn in years after Derek and Sage left. Another of him shaking the hand of the Secretary of State.
He swung the golf club before he was aware he was doing it, not sure if the roar was coming from his chest or was in his mind. But he couldn’t stop himself. The rage was taking over, and the only thing he knew was the overwhelming pain that his father had ruined lives and destroyed his soul and had gotten to leave this earth without ever taking accountability for what he’d done.
He could hear his father’s last words to him blaring in his head, so loud in his memory it made his ears ring. “You were fucking useless as a child and you’re even more useless now. I should have let your mother end the pregnancy before you even had a chance to take your first breath.”
He was sobbing now, watching glass fall as the club made contact with figurines which crashed to the floor. The end of the club smashed into the face of the clock above the mantle, it hooked around the books in the shelf, sending them toppling to the floor. He crushed frames under his feet, tore at the curtains until the rod gave way and it all came crashing down.
He wasn’t aware of when he’d dropped to the floor, or of when Basil had pulled the golf club from his fingers, but he came to with his hands pressed to the carpet, shards of glass cutting into his palms as his body was wracked with dry sobs. He didn’t fight Basil when his arms came around him, pulling him back, holding him like it was the only thing keeping it together—because it was.
He knew there was no taking it back. He knew his father—dead or alive—didn’t deserve a single second of his energy, his rage, his sadness. But he couldn’t stop it. Now that the dam was broken, he was helpless against the flood. He turned, pressing his face into the crook of Basil’s neck and let himself cry. Real tears, real emotion, anguish for himself and knowing that nothing he did would take away his past. His father’s death didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He could probably move on now—he could let the past go and know that in the future, Brian Osbourne could no longer hurt him, but he would be forced to reconcile that the man had gone to his grave without a single second of remorse.
Basil’s fingers drifted through his hair, and he was humming a tuneless, deep noise in his chest which brought Derek back from the edge better than anything ever had before. He pulled back enough to swipe his hand over his face, and then he looked up at Basil who was staring at him without judgement or fear or disgust. Just affection and worry, and it meant everything.
When his hand lifted, fingers curled into a fist, Basil stopped him and shook his head. ‘Don’t apologize.’
Derek was about to argue that he wasn’t going to, but he realized he had been, and he finally nodded, letting his hands drift back down to his lap. After a beat, he looked around at the carnage and found himself surprised he actually did feel a little better. ‘At least I can afford to have this place cleaned up.’
That startled a laugh from Basil who shook his head and reached for Derek’s wrists. He pulled his hands up to survey the damage—superficial cuts, a little blood, but far less pain than even his kindest tattoo. ‘What now?’
Derek sighed, shrugging. ‘I’m going to need to explain this to the agent coming by for me to sign papers,’ he admitted. ‘But I don’t care.’
Basil’s lips softened into a grin. ‘What can I do?’
Derek shook his head, then dragged the tip of his finger across Basil’s jaw. ‘Nothing. You’re perfect.’ At the slight blush on Basil’s cheeks, he knew this was it for him. This was all he’d ever want, and he meant to do everything in his power to keep it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Collapsing on the couch, Derek wriggled and twisted until his head was firmly planted in Sam’s lap. Sam’s thighs had long-since atrophied, so what was left of the muscle was hard and stiff, but the comfort of being home and with someone he considered family was enough to soothe him. Especially when Sam gently put a hand through his hair and smiled down at him.
“Was it seriously that bad?” he asked.
Derek closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Worse. I fucking lost it, man. We got to his penthouse and I started looking through shit, and when I realized he hadn’t bothered keeping any trace of me or Sage or my mom I just—I just went batshit on the place. I grabbed a fucking putter out of the closet and broke everything.”
Sam jolted a little under him, and when Derek opened his eyes, he saw the guy staring down at him with a vaguely startled expression. “Der…”
“I know,” Derek said. “I had a two-hour therapy session today to work through a lot of it, and I’m doing okay but…but fuck, man. This is going to take some time.”
“You knew it would,” Sam reminded him gently, scratching at hisscalp like he would a cat. “When you decided to take on his care, you told me yourself it was going to fuck you up in the end.”
“I was hoping I’d find a way to forgive him,” Derek admitted. He turned to his side slightly and Sam’s hand dropped to the back of his neck. He wondered if other people got this kind of comfort from their friends and family. Or maybe he was just a freak. Maybe they all were. He realized even if that was the case, he couldn’t care less. “I told Leila today that I don’t want to forgive him.”
“What did she say?”
Derek shrugged. “She said I don’t have to, that people who are abused aren’t obligated to forgive their abusers, and that it’s not true that the only way to live a healthy life is if you can bring yourself to do that.”
Sam’s mouth lifted into a grin. “I like her.”
“Me too,” Derek said quietly. “If she wasn’t married, I might give her your number.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for dating right now, Der. And even if I did…” He trailed off, and by the tone in his voice, Derek realized he was keeping something back.
Pushing up on his elbow, he lifted to sit and stared at his friend. “If you did?” he pressed.
Sam shook his head, dragging both hands down his face with a groan. “It’s fucked up.”
“Look man, unless you’re like in love with me or my brother which would be so weird…”
