Page 22

God, why was I so fucking mad ? Why was I so upset ? She was right—it did hurt—but above all that pain was a searing rage I wasn’t sure I’d ever known before. One so beyond anything I’d ever felt before in regard to my father or mother. This was different. It was—

Envy .

Fuck, I’m jealous.

And I was mad, seething with tremendous fury, because I had known this was how it would be. One day, she would go out with someone again, and she wouldn’t stop. She would go out with him again and again and again until she got married, and where would that leave me?

Right where I insisted I needed to be.

Alone .

“Fuck.”

The word passed through my lips against my will as I let the letter drop to the bed.

I scrubbed a hand over my eyes as I groaned.

This didn’t matter. I had known it would happen.

Yet a knot so tight and angry cinched my gut until I thought I would heave, and I sat up to swing my legs over the side of the bunk.

I held my face in my hands and groaned again.

“You all right, Serg?”

I dropped one hand and rubbed my forehead with the other. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sid slid out from his bunk enough to look up at me. “Don’t look fine to me. You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

“No,” I insisted, despite the queasy gnawing growing more and more insistent in my stomach. “I’m good. I’m—"

“Whatever you do, bud, just aim it in the other direction. Don’t barf on me, all right?”

“Sid, I’m not gonna fucking barf. I’m just …” I shook my head, covering my eyes with my hand.

“Yo.”

I listened to the rustling of shitty, stiff sheets and blankets, and then a hand was on my shoulder. It was Sid’s. You didn’t spend as much time with someone as I had with him over the years without knowing the feel of their hand.

“What happened, bud? She break up with you or something?”

I dropped my hand to my lap and shook my head. “We were never together, and she went out with another guy.”

“What? But I thought—"

I leveled him with my glare. “We make out; we part ways. That’s it. ”

He looked taken aback by that, confused. “Wait, so you’ve never even—"

“Fucked? No,” I answered brusquely, laughing as if it were the most ridiculous concept in the world.

Sid’s grin quickly returned as he slapped that hand against my back. “Well then, there you go, dude! Show her that thing you got hiding in your pants and seal the fuckin’ deal!”

I sucked in a deep breath and considered what he was saying.

Was that what I wanted? Did I want to seal the deal ?

Was that even a good idea? God, I didn’t know.

I didn’t know anything. I mean, the truth was, I didn’t hate the way things were with Laura.

I liked not having the pressure of a steady girl at home.

I could only imagine the stress Greg “Dumbass” Dumass was under with his pregnant wife waiting for him all the damn time, the pressure he must’ve felt constantly, wanting— needing —to be home.

Laura wasn’t waiting . She knew what the situation was, and she was free to end it at any time—we both were.

She should end it. She’d be better off. I’ve always known that.

But can I rely on her to be the one to do it?

She loved me. She had only ever said it once on the night of prom, but I knew her feelings hadn’t changed. I could see it in her eyes. I could feel it in her kisses, in her touch, in the way she said my name.

Love, Laura.

Hell, maybe I loved her too. I had never said it aloud, wasn’t sure I ever would, but if I could feel her love for me, I suspected she could feel mine for her.

“Yo, Max.”

I blinked, and my vision focused on the rows of bunks; the cold, militant barracks; and the rest of the guys settling in for the night. I turned to see Sid, looking at me with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes.

“Where the fuck did you go, man?”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said, scrubbing a palm over my face. “I’m good. Just fuckin’ tired.”

He didn’t look sure. A memory of Ricky looking at me the same way came to mind, back when he’d suspected I was in deep shit at home, but wouldn’t say it. It was as if Sid understood more now than he was letting on, but he only nodded and patted my back.

“Get some sleep, Serg,” he said before dipping down onto his bed.

“Yeah, you too, Corporal,” I muttered, lying back on my pillow. “And, hey, Sid?”

“‘Sup?”

I folded the letter and held it within my palm, pressed to my chest. “We can hang out in Mass.”

***

I pulled the rental car up to my parents’ house.

Over the years, I’d been back, but conversation passed between my parents and me had been minimal.

I was grateful it’d been somewhat civil for the most part—that felt like more than I could’ve asked for years ago—but that was before I’d been made sergeant.

And, well, I guessed I was hopeful my father would have more to say to me now.

So, instead of waiting for my sisters to run outside and climb into the car, as they normally would, I got out and walked up the flagstone path to the porch, which was just as devoid of personality as always.

No planters. No wind chimes. The wrought iron and wicker furniture screamed of financial security, but none of it felt like home. Not the way Ricky’s mom’s house did.

I found the door locked, and when I tried the key, it didn’t work.

I frowned and looked at the piece of metal in my hand, the one I’d been using my whole life, then tried again, certain I’d done something wrong.

Still, it didn’t unlock the door. Suddenly, feeling even more like a stranger to the house I’d grown up in, I hesitated, letting my fist hover over the heavy oak door for a moment, wondering if I wanted to do this.

They don’t want me here.

I’m not welcome.

Rejection moistened the corners of my eyes, and my nose prickled with the hurt. But no, no, I wasn’t going to cry about this. I hadn’t shed a single tear since Dad had destroyed my book years ago, and I wasn’t going to start now over a damn key.

So, I straightened my shoulders, stood tall, and knocked.

To my surprise, it wasn’t Grace, Lucy, or even my father who answered the door.

Before me stood my mother, and, God, she looked awful.

She was gaunt, hollowed cheeks and dark circles hanging heavily from her lower lids.

Her hair was as much of a mess as it’d always been, dry and straw-like.

Her eyes were sunken and lifeless as she took in the sight of me standing in the doorway in my dress uniform, her lips pursed and cracked, in desperate need of water.

But she was dressed in something other than her robe; I could at least give her credit for that.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, taking in the sight of her blue dress.

“Am I supposed to salute you or something?” she asked, blinking her eyes up to mine.

I shook my head. “No.”

She hummed a short sound of acknowledgment, almost sounding annoyed, then stepped out of the doorway. “The girls should be home at any minute. You can wait in here.”

Lucy and Grace had started community college about a year ago with the intent of attending Harvard Law School after obtaining their bachelor’s degrees. It’d been wild to me to hear that their ambition was to follow our father in his footsteps when I wanted to be the furthest I could be from him.

Yet there I was, sitting on his couch.

Mom wandered through the living room and into the kitchen. I questioned if she had ever gotten better at cooking, but I didn’t bother to ask if I could stay for dinner and find out.

“Maxwell.”

I sucked in a deep breath before looking up into the cold eyes of my father.

It’d been about a year since I’d seen him.

The hair at his temples was peppered with a little more white now than it’d been last time.

He looked older , but otherwise, he looked as put together, proper, and intimidating as always.

But things were different now than they’d been when I was younger.

For all intents and purposes, I was a man now.

Taller than he was, stronger, and with a skill set he couldn’t even fathom having.

While he might’ve been able to talk his way out of a dispute—and made a lot of money doing so— I could kill.

And for these reasons, I no longer felt threatened in his presence.

Instead, I felt that we were, at the least, equals.

Even if I was still desperate for his approval and acceptance.

I stood and removed my hat. “Hi, Dad.”

For once, I would’ve loved for him to approach and offer his hand. I knew better than to expect a hug, but a handshake … it didn’t feel like too much to ask. Yet he remained where he stood and purposefully tucked his hands into his trouser pants.

“They made you sergeant,” he said, giving away the fact that my sisters had told him of the promotion.

I offered a curt nod. “They did, sir.”

He huffed and tipped his head back, peering down his nose at me. “Surprised you would call me that when, I suppose, you expect me to call you sir.”

“No, sir. That’s not how it works.”

“That’s good,” he answered. “Because I never would, you know.”

“And I would never expect anything less,” I replied, even as I thought, But I could hope .

Dad assessed me with a curious eye, as if trying to figure me out. His gaze narrowed, but I stood stoic, unwavering, until he cleared his throat and nodded his chin once.

“You’ve done well,” he finally said, and before I could react, he turned on his heel to leave the room, entering the hallway that led to his office.

And I stood there, my jaw slack, pathetically on the verge of tears once again. But this time, they weren’t out of rejection or pain. No. This time, it was happiness.

Thrilled to have finally done something right .

***

My sisters and I met up with Ricky at a local burger joint.