A Taste of Sir (Doms of Decadence 6)

“Oh, they had someone to blame. Me.”

He watched as her face grew dark, her shoulders hunching as she closed in on herself.

“Why would they blame you? You were a child.” Just seven. He couldn’t imagine how hard losing her brother must have been on her.

“I knew he was going to that party, that he’d snuck out of the house, but I didn’t say anything. Brax was wild. He was older than my cousins. My parents didn’t have much control over what he did, although they adored him. Maybe that was the problem, they let him get away with too much. Everybody loved Brax. All he’d have to do was smile that audacious grin, and people would just fall under his charm. Like how people flock to you with their worries, they’d be drawn to Brax. Not that he was interested in anyone else’s life, he was a bit too selfish for that. But he could be sweet and funny and kind when he wanted to be.” She shrugged. “He was a teenager. He could also be mean and rude and temperamental. But other people didn’t usually see that side of him.”

“Are you saying your parents blamed you for his death because you knew he was sneaking out of the house?”

“I caught him. There was a thunderstorm that night, and I was scared. My parents would always send me back to bed if I came to them so I would usually climb into bed with Brax. Only when I got to his room, he was sneaking out the window. He told me he’d buy me some candy the next day if I kept quiet. I would have kept quiet anyway, but I agreed. He kissed me on the cheek and then he was gone. I never saw him again. I crawled into his bed and didn’t wake up until the early hours of the morning when all hell broke loose. I can remember my father storming into Brax’s bedroom, shouting his name in despair. Instead of Brax, he found me there. He was so angry, I thought he might actually hit me.”

“Oh, Jesus, baby.” He pulled her onto his lap, holding her close. But she didn’t seem to notice, she was just staring off into the distance, reliving the memory.

“He kept screaming at me, over and over, why hadn’t I told them he was gone? Why hadn’t I done something? I didn’t understand what he wanted me to do. I told them that Brax had promised me candy. My mother just wailed. I tried to talk to her, but she just stood there. Finally, the policeman who’d come to tell them that Brax had died put me in his car and drove me over to my uncle’s place. I stayed with them all through the funeral and for weeks afterwards. When my parents came for me, I didn’t want to go. I cried. I wanted to stay with my uncle and aunt and cousins. I overheard my uncle asking my dad if I could stay with them. But for some reason, he said no.”

“You were his daughter.”

“But they didn’t want me. They never did. That became obvious after Brax died. Our house was like a funeral home. All my parents spoke about was Brax. How wrong it was he was gone. What wonderful things he would have done had he lived. My mother erected the remembrance wall. A wall of photos of Brax. It’s still there in the same place of honor all these years later.”

She smiled bitterly. “Although last time I went home, my father had taken down some of the photos with my mother in them so as not to upset his new wife. My parents' relationship slowly disintegrated. My dad started drinking, and they fought all the time. She finally left.”

“She didn’t take you with her?” Her mother had just left her? With a man who’d started drinking? He remembered her telling him how she didn’t like to drink because she didn’t like being out of control and he wondered at her life with her father.

“No.” The answer was clipped, and filled with a wealth of pain. He couldn’t believe her parents had forgotten about the child they had left due to their grief over the one who’d died. He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child. It would be devastating and a terrible thing to go through. But if he were ever in similar situation, he hoped to God he wouldn’t lose sight of any other children. That he’d remember they were in pain and grieving too.

“And your father? How did he cope with your mother leaving?”

“He drank more. And when he drank he tended to get nasty. He never hit me, but his words hurt. He used to go on about how my brother would have been somebody, how wonderful he had been and how if only I had told them he’d snuck out they could have saved him.”

Jesus.

“My uncle interfered when he could, sometimes he even took me home with him. But then he died, and my aunt had five boys to feed and clothe.”

And she was forgotten about again. His poor darling.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

She lay still and silent, and his heart broke. He could just see the little girl she’d been. So scared and alone. “Of course I know that. I’ve been to therapy. I was just a child. I can’t be held responsible for his death.”

She took a deep breath.

“But you still blame yourself?”

“I had years of listening to my father talk about his saintly son and how it was so unfair he was taken so early. But I was still there. And no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to excel, he never noticed. I got excellent grades, I graduated high school early, went to college, had a good job, and he never even cared. How could he not care? Brax wasn’t perfect, he had plenty of faults, but he put him up on this pedestal and there was no room for me. I know I should have worked through all of this years ago, but it’s hard to let go of the anger.”

“I think you have a right to it. They should never have blamed you, not even when they were grieving. Brax shouldn’t have been sneaking out of the house, he certainly shouldn’t have been driving under the influence. But this is mainly on your parents. They should have known. They should have given him stronger boundaries. You said that it wasn’t the first time he’d snuck out. How did they not know he’d done it before? Did you ever think the reason they fell apart like they did was because they knew deep down it was their fault?”

“Yeah, I think that could be part of it.”

“It was not your fault, and it wasn’t fair of your parents to blame or neglect you the way they did. They should have held you closer, not pushed you away.”

“It’s no wonder people come to you with their problems to solve. You’re very good at listening.”

He hugged her tightly. “I’ll listen anytime you want to talk, sweetheart.”

“I think I’ve done enough talking tonight. I didn’t intend to start blurting out everything like that. Bet you wish you just walked me to the door, huh?”

“Not at all.” He tipped her chin up then kissed her gently on the lips. “I want to get to know you better and if it means I get to hold you, then all the better.”