“Most of my childhood was...unpleasant, to say the least. Dad couldn’t stand how quiet it was without her, and there was just a constant stream of chaos in that house. Music, TVs, radios; everything was always blaring to the point that it was hard to sleep or think. But if there’s one thing that man wouldn’t tolerate, it was silence. The second it was blissfully quiet, he would flip out in a rage.”
Exhaling a heavy breath, I take a few moments to keep from getting too caught up in the memories, not wanting to relive them. Yet no matter how much I try, it’s nearly impossible not to hear his screams echo through my skull, to recall the way he’d destroy the house, sobbing. All the while I’d just try to stay as small and invisible as possible, waiting for him to get control of himself.
“Every evening after dinner he forced me to play that damn piano, no matter if I was sick or had a mountain of homework. He’d lean against it, forcing me to play over and over until I had each piece memorized and never missed a note. It came in handy during some of his meltdowns, able to bring him back from the brink sometimes. Really, it didn’t matter what type of music or show was on, he just hated to be alone with his thoughts. So it turned into a routine, albeit a forced one.”
I break off as we’re forced to scramble up a chest high cliff or be tossed into the river. The entire layout of this forest barely makes any sense, so it’s fitting we’d find a ring here; nothing can ever be easy where the fae are concerned.
Dorian offers her a hand up, though she’s faring better than we are out here. “Hence the scarecrow jokes. Luce is good at chasing the monsters away. For his dad, for me. Now Atlas, but don’t let him know I told you he’s scared of the dark,” he whispers obnoxiously loud behind his hand, trying to imbue the heavy moment with a bit of levity. For all his claims otherwise, he’s the one that pulls us back when we sink too far, the optimistic glue that keeps our shattered pieces together.
I toss a grateful look in his direction before pressing on. “When I was nine, there was pounding at the door and I fumbled the piece I was playing. For once, he didn’t go on a tirade about my mistakes, insisting everything be flawless, so it stuck vividly in my memory. I just sat there, anxiously waiting for him to come back and too scared to move, anticipating the other shoe that was inevitably bound to drop because it was so out of character for him. And then when he eventually did, he was crying.”
The vibrant memory puts me right back into the eyes of the scared little boy I once was and physically shake my head to try and loosen its hold before it can take root. “Here was this man I was terrified of disappointing, afraid of setting off, just looking like all of his fight was gone. He was holding Maddox, just a newborn at the time.”
Cambria interrupts, looking confused. “Did someone just leave him on your doorstep?”
Stealing her hand, I bring it up to kiss the back as we continue onward. “My father had been seeing someone, but he never told me she was pregnant. I only met her a handful of times and barely even remember her, honestly. But she didn’t want the baby, would rather walk away from everything and start over, according to my dad. She dropped him off and broke it off with my father and we never saw her again. So from that point on, it was just the three of us. Though with as much as Maddox wailed at all hours of the night, at least there were a few years Dad barely had any episodes.”
I start to fall back into old patterns and distance myself before broaching this next part, anticipating the pain, but catch myself, backpedaling and actively choosing to do better. “Maddox called me one day after I’d moved out to say that Dad never came home. So I went to stay with him, and one day turned into a year. By the time anyone found his body, we had long since assumed he was dead, but it didn’t make it easier to deal with.”
Grabbing the back of Dorian’s shirt, I yank him back a step, pulling him away from the snake that he nearly stepped on. It may not kill him, but bites still hurt like a bitch.
“Thanks,” he mutters, eyeing everything with more caution than before.
We find a dirt path, treading into a more commonly ventured area. “It was just the two of us for four years, but no matter what I did, Maddox was a breed of his own. He resented both parents leaving him and acted out constantly, until it eventually got him killed.”
Dorian senses that I’m done, taking over the conversation. “And the rest, as they say, is history. He took me in, patched me up, and has smothered me ever since.”
Cambria keeps her voice light. “You’re just the hottest item on the market right now; everyone wants custody of you.” She turns to me with a teasing tone that doesn’t match the sad understanding in her eyes. “Fight you for him in the divorce.”
A shadow of a smile ghosts across my face. “Nice try, but I already told you; I can’t let you go, now that I have you.”
Dorian snickers. “Dude, do you have any idea how murdery that sounds while we’re alone in the woods?”
A real smile replaces the pitiful imitation of before, and things start to feel more normal despite the circumstances. Cambria retakes my hand under the guise of needing help over a fallen log and I commend her, despite being transparent. She’s feeding into my desire to take care of her, meeting me halfway as I try to navigate our complicated relationship.
We get back to the car and head home, frowning when I see Atlas’ motorcycle in the driveway. By the aroma hitting me the second I step through the door, he’s busy rage-baking. Better this than getting shit faced or doing something reckless, but there’s enough food to feed an army piled on the dining room table and kitchen counters, cooling.
“Come home for a snack?” she hedges, looking around and snatching a cookie off of a tray.
He sighs, swiping a hand down his face and leaving a line of flour behind. “I got fired.”
Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before now. His days of availability change week to week so we can cross over and no one wants unreliable help. He’s a damn fine worker, but from a business standpoint, I understand. With as upset as he appears though, I keep my thoughts to myself.
“That sucks,” Dorian eloquently states, stealing a treat of his own.
Atlas meets my stare, green eyes hard enough to cut glass. “I got fired because someone complained I was getting preferential treatment due to my connection to you. So the boss fired me rather than deal with the noise.”
I tip my head in acknowledgement because really, what can I say? I did get him the job, but by the way his boss dropped him so easily, he obviously wasn’t afraid of fallout. Which just proves that wasn’t the only reason Atlas was still there after all of this time.
“I’m sorry.”
I just keep hurting everyone close to me, don’t I?
He sighs heavily and pulls something out of the oven. “Not your fault and I’m grateful you helped get me in, in the first place. With as much as we cross back and forth, I’m amazed it hasn’t happened sooner, honestly. I just wish he’d at least have fired me for that, because it would’ve been fair. Whatever, I’ll just start hunting for a new job when we get back from our next trip over.”
“Don’t worry about it too much. It might be in all of our best interests if you both can stay with Cambria until we can get ahead of the current situation. One less schedule and complication to navigate around.”
Cambria moves on to a cupcake, happily stuffing her face with sugar so she doesn’t need to find placating words. “Maybe we can just fake my death. If we can find a body that looks similar enough, we can dye her hair and leave her like a present for my family.”
