Page 26 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)
Rage, a sharp slice of it cuts through my chest at his disrespect towards my little devil. Family or not, teenager or not, nobody disrespects her. Not to me, not behind my back, not ever. “Watch your mouth,” I cut in.
Sam’s eyes widen in shock as if he wasn’t expecting me to get involved. Ivory looks up at me with panicked eyes as if she’s afraid I may try to kill her brother or that he may try to come after me.
Ivory whispers, “Dallas.”
I raise a brow at her, “Ivory, go downstairs and keep your mother company. I’m gonna have a little chat with your brother.”
She hesitates to move as if she suspects from the darkness of my tone that I may try to kill him, but I lower my lips to her ear and whisper, “Please.”
Ivory obeys and slowly retreats from the room, slowly closing the door behind her. I turn my attention on Sam and school intimidation into my voice, “We’re gonna have a little chat.”
Ivory
RAGE, GUILT, EMBARRASSMENT, AND did I already say rage?
Those are all the emotions battling inside me right now because Dallas just took complete control over the situation I was supposed to deal with.
Part of me is pissed at him for getting involved so heavily because all I asked was for him to be emotional support which is really more of a silent role.
But no, he had to go all scary on my teenage brother.
Sam looked ready to shit his pants when Dallas spoke up.
The other part of me is extremely embarrassed because this burden I carry, having to parent my brother, just became Dallas’ burden and that isn’t fair.
He probably thinks my family is a bunch of circus animals and I want to barf at the thought.
I don’t want him to see me differently because he saw all of this live.
God, I never should’ve asked him to come upstairs with me.
I should’ve asked him to stay downstairs and let me sort everything out.
Then again, it really didn’t look like I was sorting things out going down that path.
Sam is being much more aggressive than usual.
My mom leans over the marble island countertop and whispers, “What do you think he’s saying to Sam?”
I shrug, “I don’t know, but I really don’t think it’s fair that he’s the one dealing with it. He isn’t part of the family.”
Mom gives me a doubtful look, “Yes he is. He’s your boyfriend. Besides, it might be good for Sam to have a man ripping into him rather than us. He doesn’t take me seriously and it doesn’t look like you were doing that great of a job.”
Before I can think better of it, I lose control over my tongue, “Oh, I’m so sorry I wasn’t doing a good job at parenting your son!
It’s not like I live across the country and work my fucking ass off to make sure you don’t have to work.
No, I just have to do that job and then come here and do yours too and get my boyfriend involved too!
” I never raise my voice at my mother. I never fight with her.
Sure, I get annoyed as fuck at her on any given day, but I never snap on her.
I always feel too guilty even thinking of saying something to her because I know Sam does it enough for ten people.
Her mouth gapes and she stares at me with wide eyes. Her eyes glaze over and before I can even think of apologizing or saying something, she rushes out of the kitchen, wailing crying, and tears pouring out of her eyes.
I want to chase after her and hug her, say I’m sorry, but a wave of dizziness washes over me and I feel my legs shaking beneath me.
I lower myself onto the barstool and rest my head in my hands.
I feel so shitty, physically and emotionally.
I can’t believe I just snapped at my mom like that.
Sure, it’s all things that are true and I do feel that way, but I should never have said that.
God, I swear I don’t even recognize who I am these days.
I’m just so angry all the time and it just seems to get worse with every day.
It’s due in part to being hungry constantly but also to feeling so weak and fatigued.
Heavy footsteps pad down the stairs accompanied by a softer set.
When I lift my head, another wave of dizziness makes my head spin and Dallas appears in front of me, cupping my face in his rough palm.
“Are you okay?” Even dizzy, he still makes me blush.
I want to believe the soft lilt to his voice and the tenderness with which he touches me are real and not a part of the fake boyfriend visage, but I can’t be sure.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just got a little dizzy,” I explain, pulling my face out of his palms.
His jaw sets and he drops his hands to his sides, assessing me with a hard set in his eyes. My dizzy spell wears off and when he sees that in my face, he relaxes and changes the subject. “Sam has something he’d like to say to you.”
Dallas steps to the side and I find Sam with a pitying expression on his face. He looks remorseful as if he feels tremendous guilt for the way he treated me. He crosses his arms over his chest and apologizes, “I’m sorry, Ivory.”
I sigh, “It’s okay, Sam. I just wanted to talk to you about your behavior. I’m worried about you and so is Mom. I know it seems like we’re constantly nagging at you, but it’s because we love you and we don’t want to see you getting into trouble.”
He nods, “I know. I’ve been really difficult and I’m sorry.
I think I was just acting out at first to get Mom’s attention and then she wasn’t giving it to me even then.
She would just make me your problem and then I just got super bitter and started acting out more.
I didn’t realize how out of hand I got.”
My eyes widen in shock at his admission.
I look up at Dallas and find a proud look on his face.
What did he say to Sam in that room that made him apologize to me?
What could he have said to Sam, the most stubborn person on the planet, that would make him see the error of his ways?
I want to leap out of my seat and kiss Dallas, that’s how grateful I am to him, but I force myself to remain seated.
I’ll thank him later. For now, my heart swells with gratitude towards him.
I focus back on my brother, “You were never a burden to me, Sam. You’re my little brother and I’m sorry I’m not around as much as you’d like me to be.
” Sam himself was never the burden. The burden was my Mother giving me a parenting job for a child that isn’t mine.
It isn’t about Sam so much as it’s about my mother.
Sam shakes his head and rushes towards me, wrapping his arms around me. I hug him back as he squeezes me, tears in his voice, “No. Don’t apologize. I was being so petty and dramatic. You work so hard to take care of us. Thank you, Ivory.”
I laugh, “Who are you and what did you do to Sam?”
He laughs through his tears, “Shut up, I’m trying to be nice.”
I squeeze him a little tighter and we just hold each other, my brother’s tears soaking my hair. He whispers in my ear, “Dad would be really proud of you.”
Now tears are forming in my eyes. I do my best to blink them away because I need to be strong for my brother. He’s been through so much and if I cry over our dad, he’ll have a breakdown of his own. “Thank you,” I whisper back.
I turn my head to the side, resting it flat against his chest and I’m able to make eye contact with Dallas this way.
I have a perfect view of his face and I take in the soft set in his eyes and the small curve of his lips.
He looks so unlike his usual self, so carefree and happy.
He seems genuinely happy to see this sentimental moment between my brother and I.
I feel a rush of affection towards Dallas.
Sure, I’ve been attracted to him for some time, and in the time I’ve come to know him, I consider him a protector, someone I feel truly safe with.
But he’s always been so stern, so serious.
We haven’t truly connected emotionally and I feel like right now, in just a few seconds of this silent exchange between us where just our eyes are meeting, I’m seeing a completely different side to him.
I feel connected to Dallas in a way I haven’t felt before.
Thank you, I mouth to him and give him a warm smile.
He dips his chin at me, but doesn’t say “You’re welcome.” He isn’t the kind of man who needs to be thanked because when Dallas Carter does something for someone out of the kindness of his heart, he isn’t doing it for a “thank you.” He’s doing it because he cares.