Better With You (Better Love 2)

I wait while she gets my father, and they’re back within minutes. He’s standing in front of me, broad stance and stern face, and for the first time in maybe my entire life, I don’t feel an ounce of fear in his presence. Dad was never cruel to us growing up, not until Brandon was forcefully outted, but we were always raised with this “fear is love, love is fear” mentality. It was drilled into us at church and at home. My relationship with my father received the brunt of that mentality—respect came from fear because I knew no different.

But now, looking at him, respect is gone and with it the trepidation and submission. All I feel is indifference, and deep down, pity.

“I need you to sign this,” I say as I hold out the papers. He takes them and looks them over, and I know the moment he realizes what they are. “I had a new headstone made for Brandon. I’ve paid for everything and it’s to be erected in February, but I need you to sign this because you’re the owner of the grave plot.” His hand drops and his eyes flash with anger, but I don’t back down. “I also need the deed.”

“No,” he growls, “I will not allow this.”

“Too fucking bad. It’s happening. Even if I have to force it.”

I have no idea how I’ll force it, but I have to try.

“There is no way I can condone this. It’s a spit in the face of God. It is disrespectful and I won’t support it. I will not let it happen.”

I don’t hold back my mocking laugh.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Dad. What about not casting judgment? What about loving your children unconditionally? You have so much hatred in your heart that you can’t even see how much damage you’ve caused.”

“You won’t talk to me like that, young lady.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. You were supposed to protect us and keep us safe. You were supposed to love us no matter what, support us, and you fell short. You failed Brandon and you’re failing me. I’m not putting up with it anymore. You can take it up with your god.”

“Bailey, please,” my mom cries.

“No, Mom,” I grind out. “You make a decision now. You either sign those papers, you do this, and you give Brandon the respect he deserves, or you lose your only other child. I will be done with you. No holidays. No birthdays. When I get married, you won’t be invited. When I have a child, you won’t even know them. I mean it.” I take a deep breath. “This isn’t an empty threat. I don’t need you. I haven’t for a long time, and I don’t need your toxicity in my life.”

“Eric,” my mom pleads with my father. “Eric, think this through.”

“Get out,” my dad growls, and I try not to let my shoulders fall. I refuse to let him see my defeat. Instead, I nod, turn on my heel, and stalk out.

Arguing erupts behind me, but I don’t stay to listen, even though my mother’s voice has risen louder than I have ever heard it. It was always my father with the booming, frightening voice, never Mom. But from her tone, she’s not playing the devoted, doormat wife anymore.

I have no idea what I’ll do now. I don’t know the next step. Can I buy the deed? Can I petition something? Do I have to wait until my father dies? Can I buy my own plot and have the headstone erected in his memory?

I’m lost in thought as I buckle myself into Ivy’s car, and I’m starting the engine when something bangs on my window. I jump, whipping my head to the passenger side to see my mother.

“Open the car door, Bailey. Please.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat, close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths. Then I click the unlock button. My mother climbs in, and my car immediately smells like her floral perfume.

“Bailey, I am so sorry,” she says, and I won’t look at her. The waterworks won’t work this time.

“It’s too late,” I say. “Please leave.”

“Here,” she says, and she nudges my arm with something. “Here, Bailey. My name is on the deed. It’s from the Karras side, not the Barnes,” she says, referring to her maiden name.

I look from her to the items in her hand. A stack of papers and a manilla envelope.

“Here. I signed them. Please. Please just take them,” she cries. “I’ve been a terrible mother. Let me try to make up for it.”

“I won’t come back here,” I say as I take the stack of papers. “I’m done with him, Mom.”

“I know,” she nods frantically. “I know. I won’t ask you to. I’m....well, I’ve looked into filing for divorce. I should have done it a long time ago. I never should have let any of this happen. I should have taken up for Brie—for Brandon.” Her use of his name gives me pause, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut. “I should have been there for him. I know that. I knew it then, but I was a coward.”

I search my heart for a softened area, for some kernel of forgiveness or sympathy, but I can’t find it. Not yet. Not today. But I am grateful for this, for what she’s doing. It’s taken a lot of courage. I’m not denying that.

“Thank you,” I say clearly, and I mean it.

“I’m sorry, Bailey.” She says again, one hand on the doorhandle. I’m relieved she doesn’t expect a hug or anything else from me.

“I know, Mom.” This isn’t atonement, but maybe it’s a start.

I textIvy an update about my trip home. She’s supportive and brilliant and every bit the best friend I need. Then, after a glass of wine and bit of weed, I text Riggs. He rings in with a video chat immediately.

“Hey,” I say when I answer.

“Hey,” Riggs says back, his gruff voice sending chills down my spine and sparks in my tummy. His chocolate brown eyes roam my face, taking in every inch of it, as if he’s searching for something. “I’m sorry today was so hard. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “No. But thank you for asking. I got the paperwork signed and everything is paid for. I’m focusing on the W’s today.”

He grins at my sports reference. “You talkin’ sports to me, Barnes?”

“I think I am, yeah.”

He sighs, his charming smile faltering.

“I miss you, Sundance,” he whispers. “I need you to know that I told my mom everything. My mom, my dad, Talia’s family. Everyone knows. And not just that we’re not engaged, but that we haven’t been for a long time.”

My stomach twists with something strange, my breath catches in my throat. My eyes, my throat—everything stings.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, and he nods.

“I am. Not everyone was understanding, but it was necessary. They’ll get over it.”

We’re quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“I also told my dad I’m not going to the pros,” he confesses. “This is my last year playing baseball.”

“How did he take it?”

“Not good,” he says with a resigned chuckle. “He exploded. Threatened to stop paying for college, and I told him to go ahead. I’ve got one semester left. Then he threatened to kick me out, sell the townhouse, and I told him to do that, too. I won’t be forced into a future I don’t want. It’s not good for anyone.”

“I’m sorry he took it so bad,” I say, and he shrugs.

“Despite being an overbearing ass, I know he loves me.” Riggs smiles before he adds, “and anyway, my mom will chew his ass out if he doesn’t come around eventually.”

I laugh lightly, then ask the question that’s been plaguing me. “Are you happy now?”

His smile drops. “Not yet,” he whispers. “But I hope to be soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“There’s this girl. I’m crazy about her. But I messed up. I hurt her, and now I need to win her back.”

“That sounds rough.” Our voices are low, as if we’re trading secrets. Like if we speak too loudly, the bubble we’re in will burst and we’re afraid of what will happen if it does. I feel like I’m hiding from something, but I don’t know what. I don’t know a lot of things right now.

“It is. It fucking sucks. But I’m not giving up.” His eyes bore into mine, laying himself bare at my feet. Showing me everything. “I’m not going to lose her. I’m not going anywhere until she’s mine again.”

I blink away my tears and swallow, but my voice is still dry and cracked when I finally speak.

“Good.”

* * *