The Boy Who Has No Faith (Soulless 5)

Now, everyone flinched at my words.

Tabitha did too, her eyes widening and shifting to Kevin, like she knew I knew everything.

My dad rose to his feet. “Derek—”

“Sit.” I snapped my fingers and pointed down. “It’s my day. I can say whatever I damn well please.”

My dad stilled and lowered himself again.

My mom looked pale in the face.

I continued. “So maybe I’ll follow in my father’s footsteps. That the next time I do this, it’ll be right.” I looked down at Tabitha. “Because this isn’t fucking right with you.” I set my glass down and shoved my chair back to storm off. “Maybe you should marry Kevin. You know—since you’re both liars and cheaters.” I turned away.

Kevin got to his feet and pressed his hands into his chest. “Derek, wait. Let me just—”

My fist collided so hard with his face that I broke his nose and blood sprayed everywhere. I shoved him to the side so I could get past.

Everyone at the table gasped. Chaos exploded.

I moved around the table to get the hell out of there. I didn’t know where to go, who to call, what to do…because everyone who really mattered was sitting at that table, witnessing my demise, my raw humiliation.

I made it through the door and into the stairwell.

Dad came after me. “Derek.”

I ignored him and descended to the next floor.

He might be in his forties, but he was in phenomenal shape, so he caught up to me and grabbed me by the arm. “Derek—”

I flung his arm off me and backed away. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

He didn’t reach for me again, but the pained look on his face showed how devastated he was by all of this.

I kept going.

This time, he didn’t follow.

I sat on the back porch and stared at the lake, a beer in my hand. Clear skies made the hot sun blanket the water with brightness, and the light hit the waves just the way it had every summer of my childhood.

It was quiet, only the sound of the water and the breeze audible to my ears.

But it also made me realize you couldn’t run from your problems; you just took them with you.

I’d blocked Tabitha’s number and did the same to Kevin. I hadn’t been at my apartment for the past week because I’d been here, spending my time fishing, cleaning my catch, and cooking it on the stove the way my dad taught me. Life was slow here, simple. My parents loved to come here, bringing all of us along or escaping on their own while my grandmother watched us.

This cabin was filled with happy memories, but those happy memories couldn’t drown out the painful ones.

The back door opened, and footsteps sounded behind me.

I didn’t look to see who it was—because I already knew.

He walked in front of me, carrying a beer in hand. He was in jeans and a black t-shirt. He sat in the armchair beside me, his knees spreading, his arm on the armrest with his fingers wrapped around the bottle. Then he stared at the lake.

I glanced at him, seeing the stubble of coarse hair over his jawline. His brown hair was unkempt and shaggy, like he hadn’t taken the time to cut it because he’d been too busy working or parenting my siblings who were still at the condo in Manhattan. “You want me to pour out the beer?” I set it on the table between us since I was underage.

He took a drink and licked his lips. “No. The drinking age is arbitrary, and if you can graduate from Harvard at twenty, then you can drink a beer.” He kept his eyes on the lake in front of him, never looking directly at me.

I kept drinking my beer.

“You’ve been here all week?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “It’s a special place.”

“Yeah…it is.” I remembered roasting marshmallows with Mom, telling her to use two blocks of chocolate. I remembered holding out the ring to her when my dad asked her to marry him.

“You know why I’m here.”

I gave a long sigh.

“We can do this now or later. But either way, it’s going to happen.”

I took another drink of my beer. “Get it over with.”

He set down his beer and turned to look at me for the first time. “I understand you were upset in the moment, but don’t talk about your mother like that—”

“She’s not my mother.” I never saw her growing up, she usually forgot my birthday, and she never cared about me. It became more obvious as I aged until I couldn’t pretend she actually gave a damn. “Cleo is my mom, and she’s a better mom than Valerie ever was.”

He continued his stare. “It’s still wrong to speak that way about someone who’s passed away…”

Whether she was dead or alive, it didn’t change who she was. “I stand by what I said.” I turned to meet my father’s look head on, unapologetic.