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"Good luck, Max," she said in a softer, gentler tone that almost made me think that she was telling the truth. That she did care. And, hell, for all I knew, she did and just didn't know how to show it.

Lucy and Grace followed as I walked out the door, leaving my mother to retreat back to her room. There were about fifteen feet between the porch steps and the car door, and I needed to make this quick.

"Listen to me," I said, keeping myself moving so as not to raise suspicion from our father, waiting impatiently behind the wheel.

"You canwriteto me as much as you want, and I will try to call when I can.

Dad should be on his best behavior, but if for whatever reason you need someone, go to Ricky.

He lives at 22 Walnut Street. Okay? Go to him for anything, and he and his mom will help. "

"Okay," Lucy said.

"Twenty-two Walnut Street," I repeated, nearing the car.

I opened the trunk and dropped my bags in. Then I closed it and turned to my sisters.

"Be good," I said as if they needed the reminder, and I wrapped my arms around them both. "What's Ricky's address?"

"Twenty-two Walnut Street," Grace answered, her cheek pressed to my chest and her tears wetting my shirt.

"Good." I kissed them each on the top of their head. "Okay. Get back inside before we piss him off."

They nodded and wiped their eyes.

"Love you, Max," Grace murmured, and Lucy parroted the sentiment.

"Love you too," I said.

Then I rounded the car to the passenger side as I watched them climb the porch steps and disappear through the door.

As I took in the sight of the house, my eyes watered, and my vision swam, distorting my view of the porch railing and posts.

I’d thought I’d be happier. I’d thought I’d jump into the car and demand my father get me the hell out of this town, away from this house.

Away from him. But it was still home. It was still the only place I’d ever known, for better or for worse, and what the hell would I be without it? Who would I be?

“Maxwell,” my father grumbled from beside me.

I hadn’t even noticed him rolling down the window.

“Get in the damn car.”

I blinked rapidly, casting away the tears I’d never cry in front of him. I swallowed down the pain and sorrow and sucked in a final breath before turning from the house and doing as he’d said for one last time.

***

We pulled up to the recruitment station, where I was to meet up with the officer who I’d enlisted with. He was going to take me to a hotel near the Military Entrance Processing Station, and tomorrow, bright and early, I’d begin the final exams before heading off to basic training in South Carolina.

South Carolina .

Months ago, I’d looked forward to getting away from this life in Massachusetts.

A privileged one maybe, but God knew it wasn’t without its struggle.

South Carolina sounded like a perfect escape.

Hell, even war was welcome in comparison to living with my father.

I’d rather give my last breath to some semblance of a cause than fight for the permission to live against the man who’d given me life in the first place.

But now the hollow ache of homesickness gnawed at my gut until I thought I might puke.

What if I hated this?

What if I failed?

God, I couldn’t imagine facing my father after a failure in the military. He’d never see me as a man then. He’d never see me as anything but an embarrassment.

“Your sisters will be fine without you,” Dad said, breaking the silence that had lasted since we’d pulled out of the driveway fifteen minutes ago.

“I know.”

“You might not believe this, but you are not the center of their universe,” he droned on, flexing his hands around the steering wheel. “I actually like them.”

The jab probably should’ve hurt, but my father had lost the capability to hurt me a long time ago. So, I laughed instead.

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I’m strict. I run a tight ship. I know this,” he replied, holding his head higher, but never turning his eyes on me. “I have expectations that should be met, and as they are my children, it is their duty to do so. But I do not hate my daughters. ”

Taking note that I hadn’t been included in his spiel, I tipped my head and clenched my fists. “Your son, on the other hand …”

“I’ve told you before, Maxwell. I have always had greater expectations in regard to you,” he said, blinking slowly as he finally brought his eyes to mine, “and you have always failed.”

A hatred so vile and dark wrapped around my heart and pulsed. “Sorry to hear that.”

He grunted and looked ahead once again, clearly bored with the exchange, as he usually was when speaking to me.

Suddenly, South Carolina didn’t seem too far away.

Suddenly, it wasn’t far away enough.

“You’ll fix that, boy,” he said with a nod. “You will give me reason to call you my son.”

A blunt, brusque laugh pushed past my lips as I shook my head. “Maybe I don’t want to be your son.”

Dad snickered. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that you don’t have much of a choice in the matter.

It’s my blood in your veins, boy. You’d have to bleed that out of you to be rid of me …

” His words faded away with a chuckle, and he reached across the car to nudge my thigh with his knuckles.

“Hey, maybe we’ll both get lucky, yeah? You could get shot in battle, pour my blood out, and die a hero, ridding yourself of the burden of calling me your father, and I’d finally find a reason for not beating you out of your mother’s belly.

We’d both win. That’d be something, huh? ”

My tongue ached with the vitriol I desperately wanted to throw his way.

The man deserved it more than anyone. Every bit of belligerence in my broken mind was meant to pelt him until he was the one who bled.

But while his blood might’ve been pounding through my veins, my heart was still too good to say any of the things I needed to say.

So, I opened the door, grabbed my suitcases from the back seat, and walked away from my father’s car, wishing South Carolina were on the other side of the universe.