Page 17

My nostrils flared as I pulled in a deep breath in an attempt to calm the urgency to thrust my fist through my father’s smug face.

I had undergone combat training. I knew how to throw a punch and how to load and shoot military-grade weaponry, yet I was still unable to defend myself in the face of this cruel tyrant of a man.

I set my pride on the back burner as I mustered the strength to ask, “Can I stay here?”

Dad raised his brows and cast his gaze to the side, as if considering the question, allowing the seconds to stretch between us before replying, “I don’t think so.”

I stood taller, tipping my chin up. I was taller than him like this, in my boots, looking down my nose at the indifferent expression on his face .

“But, Daddy!” Lucy dared to cry out angrily. “Max is only home for three days! He can—"

“Enough!” Dad shouted, his voice snapping against my eardrums like the crack of a whip.

“Maxwell is an adult and can find his own accommodations while he’s in town.

He doesn’t need either of you to fight his battles for him.

Isn’t that right, boy?” He addressed me with a cold glare and a taunting smirk.

“Right,” I replied, unwavering in my stare.

His eyes darkened. “Right … what?”

I canted my head, feigning a cluelessness I knew would get under his skin. “I don’t follow.”

He sniffed. “So, a few months is all it takes for you to lose all respect for your father? What happened to sir ?”

“Oh.” I huffed a chuckle as I broke my stare to reach down and grab my bags. “I recently learned that I should only answer that way to my superiors—men who deserve my respect.” I regarded him with an air of indifference that felt so, so fucking good . “I don’t believe you ever deserved mine.”

Dad stepped forward, holding my angry glare. “Lucy, Grace, get the hell upstairs. Let me have a word with Maxwell.”

“But, Daddy—"

“Listen to your father!” he roared over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off me.

Their footsteps thundered through the living room and up the stairs until their doors closed, the sound traveling down the empty stairwell .

I wondered if my mother was sleeping, if she even knew I was home. Hell, did she even care? Could she ever?

My father and I were alone now. I held tight to my bags, if only to keep from hitting him once before storming out the door to … I didn’t know … find somewhere to stay, or maybe I’d just leave altogether, once and for all.

“Don’t forget our deal,” Dad said in a hushed voice. “I have held up my end of the bargain. We have lived a very quiet, happy life these last few months.”

As far as I knew, that was true. Ricky had sent letters with his reports.

My sisters hadn’t complained about our father once in the time I was away, which led me to assume they were either lying or he really had been, at the least, decent.

And that only raised the question of, had my presence been truly to blame for how insufferable he was the rest of the time?

God, and if that were the case, what the hell had I ever done to him?

Dad tipped his head, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to ruin that, would you?”

A chuckle pushed through my nose as I shook my head. “Why the hell do you hate me so much, Dad?”

“I asked you a question,” he replied.

“Answer mine first.”

“Don’t test me, Maxwell. I am learning to be a better father to them; I am trying . Did you know Grace has a little boyfriend now?”

That gave me pause. No, I hadn’t known. Grace certainly hadn’t told me, and neither had Lucy nor Ricky.

“She goes on dates. He comes here for dinner on Sundays. She’s happy .

Lucy too. But if you walk back in here and ruin everything again, I will stand here before God and swear I will make their lives a living fucking hell.

Do you understand me? And that will not be on me.

No. That will be your fault,” he spit, jabbing a finger at my chest for effect. “Just as it’s always been.”

My heart crashed violently inside my chest, rattling off my bones and vibrating all the way through to my fingertips.

I could hear my blood whooshing past my eardrums, red hot and fueled by rage.

I wanted to call his bluff, insist he couldn’t be that evil, but then I remembered Smoky.

I remembered that my father was, above all else, a man of his word.

He was driven, ambitious, and when he put his mind to something, he did it.

And if he said he was capable of being a good father to my sisters in my absence, then damn me straight to hell because I fucking believed him.

And I believed he would also quit cold turkey if I stepped out of line and dared to infiltrate this little bubble he’d somehow created while I was gone.

“Do I make myself clear, boy?” he asked, his voice a menacing growl that still managed to make me flinch, even after months of being berated and damn near tortured by military superiors.

I stared into his eyes. I imagined it was a lot like staring down the barrel of a gun.

I acknowledged that could be my reality one day, and I wondered if I’d feel as threatened then as I did right now, looking into my father’s distant, threatening gaze.

Because there was little emotion between soldiers at war, but this transaction between my father and me …

This was personal .

I hate you , I thought, wishing I had the balls to say it out loud. I hate you so much more than you could ever hate me.

But even as those words cycled through my head over and over and over on an endless loop, I still managed to stare into his eyes and mutter a heartless, “Yes, sir,” before turning and walking out the door.

***

“Thanks for letting me stay, Mrs. Tomson,” I said with a grateful smile.

“Oh, please, Max,” she replied, sitting down at the table to join us for dinner. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

It had taken all of eleven minutes to walk the four blocks to Ricky’s house, but in my state of exhaustion, those eleven minutes felt like an eternity.

Once I’d trudged through his front door, I had collapsed on the couch and passed out for seven hours before being woken up by the smell of beef stew wafting through the house.

“Your dad is a real piece of shit,” Ricky grumbled from beside me.

It was only the fourth time he’d reminded me since I had arrived that morning, and it was the fourth time I didn’t bother to reply. Because it didn’t matter what he or I thought about him and his methods. The man would still be my father, and there was nothing I could do about that .

“It’s my blood in your veins, boy.”

“So, you went through training, right? What happens next?” Ricky’s mom said, changing the subject.

I cleared my throat and readjusted the napkin on my lap as I said, “Um, well, I just finished basic training. Next, I’m going back to South Carolina for what’s called Advanced Individual Training.”

“Oh,” she replied, sounding impressed. “What do you do there?”

“Training, Mom,” Ricky said with a snort. “Obviously.”

One side of my mouth quirked at his sardonic tone. I had missed him.

“Basic training is where we learn … well, the basics,” I explained. “But advanced training is more specialized. We kinda branch off and learn the ins and outs of what our specific jobs are going to be while serving.”

She nodded, more interested than either of my parents ever would be. “And what is it you’ll be specializing in?”

“Infantry,” I answered without hesitation.

“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.”

Ricky narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”

“Land combat,” I told him.

“Like … killing people with guns and shit?” he asked, lowering his spoon into his bowl of stew.

I sucked in a deep breath before nodding. “Basically. My goal is to eventually become a sniper. ”

He raised his brows, looking both concerned and impressed. “Don’t you have to be a really good shot to be a sniper?”

I chuckled and turned my attention back to my stew. “Well, turns out, I am a really good shot.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. During my training, I’d found quickly that my ability to line up with the target was nearly always spot-on. My superiors had been impressed, and on more than one occasion, they’d implied I was a strong contender for sniper school.

I liked that idea.

I liked the thought of being important , of having a greater purpose than just being another body on the battlefield.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to die to make him proud.

My fist clenched at the thought as I quickly took a bite of beef and potatoes, masking my pain with hunger.

We finished dinner with casual conversation. Ricky and his mom told me how the last few months had been for them, and in exchange, I gave them a couple of tidbits from my time away. But for the most part, I smiled and nodded and injected interest where it was needed.

Mostly, I just wanted to leave and go back to a place where my presence was useful.

God, not even Grace and Lucy needed me now, and I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

***

When the table was cleared and the dishes were washed, Ricky asked if I wanted to go out .

"Where?" I asked, not feeling at all like going out, but also not wanting to disappoint my friend.

He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen doorframe as I finished drying the last plate.

"I dunno, man. Um … I could call Molly and see what she's up to. Maybe we could go to McDonald's."

I huffed and slid the plate into the cabinet. "We just ate, dude."

"No, I know, but … we could get ice cream or milkshakes or something. I don't know. Just to go out, you know? You're only back for a couple of days. Might as well do something while you're here."

I sighed and ran my hand over my cropped hair. It had taken some time to get used to the buzz cut, but I'd grown to like it. It was easy and manageable.