“No.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“She’s a grown woman. She can make her own choices. Now, get out of my shop before you’re unable to leave on your own.”
He let out a low whistle. “Quite a temper you’ve got there. Okay, I’m going. But if you’re smart, you’ll keep your distance from Grace.”
“I’ve never been known to be a smart man,” I sneered.
He nodded and turned to walk away. Before leaving, he glanced over at Tucker. “You should seriously think about putting that thing down. It’s a bit inhumane to keep him alive like that.”
He flung the door open and left, but not before his words hit me hard in my soul.
I walked over to Tucker, who was back in his dog bed, and I pet his head. “You’re a good boy, Tuck,” I told him, rubbing right behind his ear. My voice cracked, and I studied his tired self.
You’re a good boy.
*
After I finished up at the shop, I headed over to Dad’s house to check in on him. He’d been pretty quiet over the past few days, which normally meant he was drunk, or…well, drunk. When I walked into his house, he was sitting on the couch, eating a TV dinner with a beer can in his grip. The only thing he ever watched was the news because he liked to remind himself exactly how much the world sucked.
He heard my footsteps, but he didn’t turn to greet me. He never did, really. We didn’t have the type of father-son relationship where we truly talked. We mostly just grumbled in each other’s general direction and complained about the other being a pain in the ass.
“That shit is still in my shop,” he sneered, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth before chasing it down with the beer. “It’s been weeks now, and that bitch’s car is still in my shop.”
I cringed. “Don’t call her a bitch.”
He glanced over at me and gave me his narrowed stare. His thick gray eyebrows lowered, and he let out a sound like a growl. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Don’t forget whose house this is, boy.”
He loved to use that line about the house—and about the shop, and about the cabin next to the shop. He loved feeling as if he was the power behind everything we had. What he never seemed to notice was who paid the bills, who showed up to work, who cleaned the house. He hardly did anything with his time except drink and watch the news.
My father wasn’t a person. He was the walking dead.
“I’m not gonna tell you again—get that car out of the shop,” he ordered, but his words meant nothing to me. He didn’t have the focus or the work ethic to actually have the car removed himself. Therefore, it would be fine.
He was all bark, no bite, just a bitter old man with a heart that no longer beat.
I had my mom to thank for that one.
“Don’t you know what those people have done to this family, Jackson?” he asked me. “How they never once helped us? They put us through hell.”
“Yeah, I know.” But did he? Did he know how Grace had pulled him halfway across town to get him out of harm’s way? Did he know how she’d showered him, cleaned his place, and sat with him just to make sure he didn’t choke on his vomit?
Did he see her blue eyes when she cried, her shaking when she was afraid?
Did he not see how she was more than just a Harris? How she, too, had had things done to her? That she, too, had been through her own hell?
I blinked my eyes shut.
There she was again, filling my mind.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking of her?
Shake it off, Jackson.
I walked over to his refrigerator and opened it, seeing all the food I’d bought was already gone. “You’re supposed to tell me when the food’s low,” I told him.
“I ain’t gotta tell you shit,” he replied, flipping me off. I flipped him off right back.
Like father, like son.
“Is it true?” he asked.
“Is what true?”
“The rumors about you fucking that girl?”
Every inch of my body tensed. “What did you just say?”
“Is it true that you’re fucking a Harris?”
I didn’t reply because he didn’t deserve a reply. It was none of his business what or who I was doing.
He stood and slowly approached me. “You stay away from that family.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I growled, my anger building.
“No, I absolutely will tell you want to do! You are my son, and you live on my property. You will do as I say. You stay away from that girl,” he barked, shoving my chest.
I allowed it the first time.
“Dad, keep your hands off me,” I warned.
He shoved me again. “What are you gonna do? Huh? You gonna hit your old man? You gonna fight back?!” he snapped, slamming into me again. I took a deep breath as my hands formed fists. “Fight me, Jackson!” he hollered. “Fight!”
Still, I wouldn’t lay a hand on him. Not once had I ever laid a hand on my father; no matter how many times he had put his on me. If I did, I would be just as bad as him.
“You’re drunk,” I told him.
“You like that girl, don’t you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
“What?”
“Well, shit,” he huffed, stunned. “You fell for a Harris? I shouldn’t be surprised because you’re weak. You’re a piece of shit, and you’re fucking weak,” he hissed. “I shouldn’t even be shocked that you’re screwing a Harris,” he barked. “You’re a no-good lowlife.”
“Shut up,” I warned.
“You’re a dumbass for thinking she’d ever truly want you.”
“Stop talking,” I told him, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
“She’s never going to choose you, Jackson. People who live in the heavens never fall for the ones in the slums. You think she’d actually fall for a monster?”
“Go away.”
“No. You think she’d ever want something like you? A lowlife? Scum? A monster?”
“I’m not a monster.”
“You are,” he said, nodding. “I guess you get that from your old man.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“No—you’re even worse.” He took a deep breath. “I treat people like shit ’cause I’m a fucking drunk. What’s your excuse?”
He began to stalk off toward his bedroom, and I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.
“Stay away from that Harris girl. I mean it.”
I inhaled deeply and snapped the band on my wrist. My mind was spinning as I tried to wash my thoughts away. He was the worst one for me, the only person who was truly able to get under my skin and make me doubt every choice I’d ever made.
I want to use…
My heart was racing fast, and my vision began to blur as I paced back and forth.
I want to use…
I snapped my bracelet.
Powerful moments, Jackson. Stay strong.
My father was my worst nightmare, and I hated that when I stared into his eyes, I saw my own reflection staring back at me.
I want to use…
“Fuck!” I barked, raking my hands through my hair as I sat down on my father’s couch. My foot tapped rapidly against the hardwood floor, and I pulled out my cell phone. I began scrolling through my old contacts, the people who were so good at supplying me with everything I needed to keep me high and fucked up.
That was all he thought I could be. Maybe that was all I ever would be…
I want to use…
I dialed the number. I listened to it ring, and when the voice answered, I swallowed hard.
“Hello?”
I sighed. “Hey,” I whispered, feeling a knot in my stomach. “I need you.”
25
Grace
Jackson’s voice sounded so broken over the phone, and it only took seconds for me to slide on my shoes.
When I made it to his house, he didn’t say a word. He pressed his lips hard against mine, kissing me deep, kissing me long, kissing me as though he hadn’t yet kissed me before.