The Boy Who Has No Redemption (Soulless 8)

It was hard to talk to him. I’d stopped trying a long time ago. “Emerson and Lizzie want to come over tomorrow to see Mom.”

He lifted his gaze. “Why?”

“Because they care about her.” And she still cared about me, even though I didn’t deserve it.

“Did you get back together?” He grabbed his scotch and took a drink.

“No…she wouldn’t take me back.”

He set his glass down on the surface. “Don’t blame her. You acted like a fucking lunatic.” He hardly looked at me as he released an annoyed sigh, his fingers still wrapped around his glass. “People get tired of your bullshit, Derek. I’ve been fucking sick of it for ten years.” He took another drink then set the empty glass on the table.

I was so shocked by what he’d said, I didn’t even breathe. Never in my life had my father spoken to me that way, with such anger and bitterness, like he didn’t give a damn about me at all. My chest started to tighten, and I felt the tears form behind my eyes, feeling like my father was the one who died, even though my mother was the one who was sick. “Dad, I understand you’re going through a hard time right now—”

“Oh, you don’t like it when someone treats you like shit?” he countered, his voice dripping with aggressive sarcasm. “Now you get to be on the receiving end of that. Who cares that Valerie had a heart attack and croaked. She never loved you. She took the first opportunity to leave. Cleo is your mother, but all you’ve ever cared about is the people who’ve slighted you rather than those who’ve loved you. I’ve always been here, but you act like that’s nothing, and then when your mom might die, all of a sudden, you actually give a damn about us—”

“Deacon.”

Dad shut his mouth instantly, silenced by the intense disappointment in my mother’s voice. All she had to say was a single word and she controlled the entire room, controlled the volume, took all the power from both of us.

My eyes were wet, but I managed to hold on to the tears so they wouldn’t fall. I hadn’t thought I could be more heartbroken than I already was, but my father hurt me more than anyone else had—in my entire life.

Mom walked closer to the table and stood beside him, glaring down at him with a vicious expression. “Don’t ever speak to my son like that again.”

Dad kept his head bowed, not looking at either one of us.

My lips trembled because of her choice of words.

“I’ve never been so disappointed in you. Leave.”

He stayed in the chair for a moment longer, his head still down, his eyes on the table. Without looking at my mother, he rose from the chair and started to walk to the hallway toward the bedroom.

“No.” Her angry look drilled into his back.

He stilled at her command.

“Get out.”

I’d never seen this happen with my parents. Dad never slept on the couch after a fight. In fact, fights just didn’t occur.

He stood there for a few seconds, the tension lingering, and then he headed to the door and grabbed his wallet on the way. He left his phone behind—on purpose. He shut the door behind himself quietly and disappeared.

Mom continued to stare to make sure he wouldn’t come back before she sat in the chair where he’d been sitting just a moment ago.

I had a headache every single day because of the amount of the stress and the tears. Every aspect of my life had been shaken. There was no foundation anymore. My mom might die, my father was an ass, the woman I loved was gone…and I was alone. I couldn’t cry anymore. I just couldn’t.

Mom stared at me before she moved her hands across the table and grabbed both of mine.

I squeezed her fingers back, squeezed her hard, breathing through the pain.

“That wasn’t your father, Derek. Don’t believe a single word he said.”

“He’s been that way for a long time…”

“I know. There’s no excuse for it.”

“I used to act that way all the time, so I get it.”

“No.” She squeezed my hands. “He’s your father. There’s no excuse for that behavior. He’s the man of this family, and he should be there for us instead of crashing and burning. He should be the rock. And he should never, ever speak to you that way.”

“I deserve it—”

“No, you don’t.” She brought my hands together and encompassed them with hers, even though my hands were larger. “He loves you more than life itself. He didn’t mean a word he said. He just…said it. He’s angry and scared, and he’s lashing out at anything he can because he doesn’t know what else to do. But we’ll forgive him and forget, because that’s what families do.”