Page 55 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)

Chapter Thirty-One

T YLER

I RELIVE EVERY HEAVENLY second of the last few hours with Delphine as I shower and pull on my briefs.

Every one of those moments blissful in recollection.

Our physical coupling so incredibly natural from the onslaught.

The feel of her bare, a first for me, was utter fucking perfection.

The discussion of protection unnecessary since I chauffeured her to her OB one afternoon before we went fishing to get her birth control shot.

An appointment she said she hasn’t missed since she was a teenager.

The conversation even less pressing for now as my chest thuds steadily at the fact I’m the only one.

Not her first, but with the solidified ambition to be her last. Heart alight that our season has finally come, I’m towel drying my hair when I exit my bathroom, stopping short when I see my dad waiting for me.

Perched at the end of my bed, he stares at me expectantly as the anger I tempered last night threatens to rush me.

Instead of entertaining it—or him—I continue dressing around the elephant in my room as if he’s not there.

Getting back to Delphine and sorting us out is the only thing I’m concerning myself with today.

That and a celebration with my brothers—my true family.

Especially with Tobias due to pop up at the house anytime this morning.

Tension grows thick as I pull on my jeans, certain my dad’s about to spill some bullshit about Grace.

Excuses that, at this point, I don’t give enough of a fuck about to hear, though he surprises me when he finally speaks.

“Your recruiter came by last night,” he grinds out.

“Says you’ve been visiting him for over a year. ”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” I quip absently, pulling down a T-shirt and grabbing my sneakers, “you’ve been busy, right?”

“I haven’t fucking slept, Tyler.” I look over to see his eyes are red-rimmed, and his hair is thoroughly picked through. “When were you planning on telling me?”

The rage I managed to suppress since I left that gas station last night starts to filter back in with his demanding delivery and confrontational tone.

“Tyler, when were you going to tell me?” he presses.

Walking over to my nightstand, I feel the weight of his expectant stare on me as I plug my cell in to charge before pocketing my wallet and keys.

“I deserve an answer,” he growls as I make my way toward my bedroom door, and he grips my forearm to stop me from passing him.

“Tyler, damn it. Talk to me.”

Ripping my arm from his grip, my chest bounces with my sardonic laugh as the anger slams into me full force. “You really want to force this, huh, to have a discussion about my future?”

His features twist in confusion at the amount of hostility coming from me. I cross my arms inches from his face, which turns indignant as he bites out his words. “I get that you’re pissed at me, but you need to right your tone and your posture, Son. I raised you better than that.”

“Let’s be honest, my mother raised me, and your fucking demand for respect at this point is laughable, Carter. ”

His face reddens. “I’ve had just about enough of you treating me like I’m fucking beneath you. I know I’ve made some mistakes—”

“ Mistakes ,” I scoff at his audacity. “All right, Dad, I’ll grant you your demanded father-son chat to talk about my future, but before we do, how about you answer a question for me first?”

He nods, his anxious eyes weighing my every move.

“So, I had a little run-in with your mistress last night.”

His expression immediately screws up into one of guilt as he emits a low, “I ended that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, good on you. But what was news to me is that her husband owns a gas station I frequent, and she sings in the choir at First Baptist. Things I’m sure you know, but what really surprised me was the toddler on her hip.”

“Like I said, I ended that a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t answer my question. That toddler has our eyes, Dad. Looks a lot like he could be fathered by a Jennings.”

“What?” His reddening face immediately starts to lose color.

“That’s what you couldn’t forgive Mom for, right? That’s her only unforgivable sin toward you. So, did you even the score? Is Zach yours? Sure looks like he could be yours.”

“Of course fucking not. Jesus Christ, Son, no.” He scrubs his face with his palm. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know, Carter .” I bend, palms on my knees, as I look him right in the eyes.

“But wouldn’t you agree that the nature of this fucking conversation alone and the fact that these are the questions your only son is asking you disqualifies you from parenting him or having any current say in his life or future? ”

“The hell?” he grits out. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I absolutely fucking do. I meant it a long time ago. I’m done, been done.” I glance around my childhood bedroom as resignation sets in. “And I think it’s past time I start living that decision.”

Stalking over to my closet, I grab a duffle and begin packing it.

“What?” Dad stands as I start to stuff what I can into the bag. “What the fuck does that mean? What the hell are you doing? Tyler, stop.”

“I’m leaving, exiting stage left because I’m done playing part of the doting, loyal, loving son in the fucking farce you and Mom are still calling a family. This ceased to be my home a long time ago.”

“Stop,” he snaps in a harsh whisper. “Tyler, I’m doing all I can to make things right.

” He grips the bag in protest. “Talk to me, Son. Don’t do this.

” He glances out of my open door to the closed door across the hall, where Mom still sleeps.

Eyes filling with trepidation, he looks back at me. “She’ll never forgive me.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter that I won’t either.”

“Of course it fucking matters. I’m trying,” he releases in exasperation, keeping his hand on my packed bag. We enter a brief fucking idiotic tug of war before I release it, and he stumbles back with the bag at his chest.

“Jesus, fucking keep it,” I drawl with an ironic shake of my head.

“I no longer want or need shit from you, and I can’t handle another second of the liability that comes with being your son.

” I glare over at him. “Do you have any idea what it felt like looking at that kid and thinking that he might be . . .” The admission burns me, and I allow that burn to lace my resignation.

“So yeah, I mean it. I’m fucking done with you. ”

“Tyler,” he utters, tears shining in his eyes. “I swear to God, that’s not the truth.”

“Maybe, but here’s my truth. I can’t forgive you, Dad.

I’ve tried so hard. But every time I start to, something like this happens, reminding me of how far you went and selfishly dragged us down with you.

” Biting my lip, I dart my eyes outside my open door at the family photo hanging between our bedrooms and turn back to him, giving him brutal honesty.

“You brought her here ,” I whisper for my mother’s sake, “into our home —”

“Son—” he starts, voice strangled as he drops the bag.

“I heard you fucking her ,” I admit hoarsely. “I heard you destroying our family. You didn’t protect me from that , and it’s probably the one and only time I’ve ever needed your protection in the years you weren’t here. Until you became the one I needed protection from.”

His eyes spill over as he lowers them. “I’m so—”

“Even if I can forgive that, you didn’t protect her. Purposely insisting you drive the fucking truck that day and endangering her life.”

He slowly lifts his shame-filled eyes back to mine.

“It’s true then . . .” I bite my lip and nod, “I suspected it, but you just confirmed it because I know you. I spent most of my life trying to become your replica, but I’ve spent the last year undoing that.

I think I can forgive the way you tortured us day in and day out with your bullshit because of your pain.

I can forgive you for a lot, but what I can’t make peace with or forgive you for is that you almost took my mother away when you already took my father .

.. so for that, I’m leaving. And for that, you’re going to let me go. ”

We stand for long seconds on opposite sides of his mistakes, the ache between us unbearable, before he finally bends and zips the duffle. Lifting it, he offers the handle to me as silent tears start to pour from his eyes.

“Okay, S-Son,” he croaks, “you take it and whatever else you n-need.” His whisper is guttural as I slowly lift my hand and take the duffle.

“Do you n-need money?” His voice shakes as he scrambles to pull out his wallet before pinching the entirety of the stack of bills inside—the sight of his desperation gutting me.

“No, Dad, stop .” I grimace as the pain lancing through me becomes harder to manage. “You don’t get to make me feel guilty for this,” I declare to us both.

“I k-know.” His features pinch. “But I-I’ll b-be here.

” He falters, his face crumbling as his voice continually cracks on every word.

“I-if you decide that you can try to forgive me.” He swallows, his tears flowing with his apologies.

“I’m sorry,” he expels. “I’m so sorry. I love you, and no matter what, y-you’re my son, and I’m s-sorry.

” He falters again, and I watch the visible shatter in him as his worry for me surfaces.

“P-please be safe,” he begs, “p-please c-call us, ca-call your mother,” he bargains, his fear painfully evident.

The sting in my throat increases, leaving me unable to do anything but nod as my eyes start to burn.

Though I can feel the break I’m causing in the man standing feet away, I can’t heal my own, let alone his.

It’s too deep. The finality of what’s happening shatters something inside.

Something buried. As I stare at my father, I realize it’s most likely what hope I had remaining.

“Just tell Mom I’ll call her later,” I manage as I take a step for the door.