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He huffed a thoughtful sound. “Well, that’s not how this arrangement works.”

“Guess you failed to share the details of the contract with me then.”

He was silent. From the corner of my eye, I saw him watching me.

Staring, working his jaw from side to side.

I was wedging myself beneath his skin like a splinter, deep and prickly, and if I had my way, I’d remain there to fester until an infection spread so fast and wicked that he died before he knew what had happened.

“After graduation, I am no longer responsible for your life,” he stated. “It would’ve been wise for you to make arrangements, but since you’ve been so irresponsible as of late, I took it upon myself to collect a bit of information I thought you’d find useful.”

Without waiting for my reply, he threw what appeared to be a pamphlet onto the table in front of me. I leaned forward just a bit to read the words emblazoned across the front and slowed my chewing at the realization of what he was suggesting.

“The Army,” I said.

“I think a little military training would do you some good.” He said it with triumph and pride, like the man truly believed that this was the best idea he’d ever had .

And the crazy part was, it also wasn’t the worst.

It was a career. It would get me away from here. Money, food, shelter … it would all be taken care of. I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that.

But I would worry about my sisters.

“No,” I said, pushing the pamphlet away.

My father leaned back in his chair and dropped his utensils to the plate in front of him. “Then what is it you plan to do if I won’t allow you to stay here?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Oh? And what exactly would that be? You don’t have a job; you don’t have money.” He reached his arm out to tap the pamphlet with a firm finger. “No. There is nothing to figure out. You should enlist tomorrow.”

“And who would cook your dinner?” I threw at him.

“Your mother managed for many years before you, boy. I think she could manage for many more.”

I huffed a sardonic laugh, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, you think that’s the way to pull her out of bed, huh? Get rid of me so she doesn’t have a choice but to be your wife again?”

Lucy and Grace stopped chewing, both of them frozen as they stared at me, their eyes wide and their lips parted.

“Show your father some respect—"

“How about I’ll show my father respect when he learns how to show some to me ?” I fired back.

The taut chains of our hatred and rage stretched out across the table. Another fight was brewing—I sensed it—and I wondered if either of us would survive the wreckage .

An image of how Lucy and Grace had found me the other day clouded my memory. Curled in the fetal position on my bedroom floor, blood speckling the gray carpet. Tears flowed in a torrential downpour from my eyes, and they had seen me for exactly what my father had said.

I was weak.

I wasn’t brave the way I’d thought I was, standing up to him, sticking around to keep him from beating on them. No, I was weak for not doing more , and for that, I feared I was damning us all.

I grabbed the pamphlet and looked at it again. Not for my father’s satisfaction, but for my own benefit.

“It’s the best idea,” Dad said in perhaps the kindest voice he’d ever used on me.

“What about Lucy and Grace?” I asked, reading over the information.

“What about us?” Lucy asked quietly. “What’s going on?”

“Max is leaving,” Grace answered, always needing to be the smarter one.

My father held his head higher. “What about them?”

“If I’m not here to protect them, what will you do?”

My father was silent for a second before throwing his head back with a laugh I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard.

Hell, in all of my eighteen years, had I ever heard him laugh at all?

The sound was booming but dark, jovial but sinister, like he was the devil and I’d just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

“Is that what you think? That you’re here to protect them ?

” he mocked, damn close to giggling. “This is my house, boy, and you three are my children. It is my duty as your father to discipline you all in whatever way I see fit. I don’t hit them now because I would never lay a hand on a woman, and I wouldn’t start simply because you weren’t here.

” He laughed again, and the hairs on my arms stood on end.

“And if you’re wondering why I hit you …

well, it’s good for you. It builds character and strength. And, well, honestly, I just want to.”

I hate you.

The words dangled from the tip of my tongue.

I wanted to say them. I needed to say them.

But I couldn’t . He was my father, for whatever the hell that was worth, and a small, nearly insignificant part of me kept thinking there was a piece of him that didn’t hate me .

And it was that possibility that kept the words in my mouth, out of fear of killing that tiny, nearly insignificant part of him that was still human.

“Fine,” I said, holding the pamphlet. “I’ll enlist.”

My father was quiet for another moment, and then I did look at him.

It was the first time I had looked at him since our fight.

There was a discolored bruise on his right cheek and whatever was left of a cut on his lip.

Triumph flooded my chest, and I held my head higher.

I had done that. For once, I had hurt him .

I had given him reason to make up lies, stories, excuses to his clients and employees at the law firm, just as I’d been lying for him for years.

And that was when I noticed something else—the look in his eyes. In them, I saw something reflected that I’d never seen before.

He was proud .

Of me .

I had finally, finally, for the first time in my life, done something right by my father’s standards, and I didn’t really know what to do with that.

“I, um … I’ll go after school tomorrow,” I said softly, holding his gaze.

He nodded approvingly, satisfied. “All right. I’ll tell your mother to cook dinner.”