I narrow my eyes. “That – you don’t mean –”
“You used her like a puppet,” Burn presses, his gaze burning holes into Dad. “You preyed on her, like a tiger preys on a lamb. She had no idea what you were capable of. And you used her ignorance and desperation against her. You used Wolf concern for her, for her dreams, against her. You used her like you use us – to get what you want.”
Burn stops, and looks at me.
“She left that for me. Because she was worried. Because, even if she fucked up, she’s still worried about me. About us. She still cares.”
I scoff, disbelieving.
“Laugh all you want,” Burn says. “But I believe in her.”
“She betrayed our trust,” I snarl.
“She made a mistake,” He argues. “Just like I did. Just like I did for years.”
“And you’re going to make up for it all right now?” Dad laughs, cruel and cold, and it makes me never want to scoff again, if that’s what I sound like. Burn remains strong.
“I’m going to try. I want a chance to. And that’s what she wants, too. I know it.”
“You want me to suddenly trust her again? I can’t do that,” I insist. “You know I can’t. Not after – not after everything. Not after Mark. I won’t make the same mistake three times.”
“So you’re just going to live like this?” Burn knits his eyebrows. “Sitting here, wishing she was here, but never admitting it yourself?”
“You have no idea –”
“You keep the scraps. Of her essay. I see them in your trashcan. You haven’t emptied that thing in two weeks.”
“I have nothing to throw away.”
“You have everything to throw away,” He corrects. “And every reason to do it. But you don’t. You ever ask yourself why?”
I furiously occupy my hands with the brochures. He has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s just easily swayed by – My hand freezes on a brochure. Buried beneath all the others is a brochure for a ‘mental rehabilitation center for trauma and abuse victims’. Dad sees me looking at it and plucks it from my hands.
“Ah, yes. I was perusing options for your recovery as well, Wolf.”
“Recovery –”
“For what Mark did to you, of course. This facility excels in dealing with adolescent abuse, and as an added bonus, they have a very good reorientation program.”
All the air presses from my throat. “Reorienta –”
“It’s not natural, Wolf.” Dad looks at me with pitying eyes. “You’re sick. Trust me, this place will show you how things are supposed to be, how the natural order of things goes. You’ll thank me, someday.”
I reach out for the keychain with shaking fingers, and grip it tightly.
“I’m not sick.”
“What?”
“I said,” I shout. “I’m not sick! I’m your fucking son!”
“You like men, Wolf. That’s a sickness. You’re not on the right path –”
I’m stunned into silence, but only for a second. God, Mom, if you could see him now. If you could see what your death has done to him. Or maybe he was always like this. Maybe I was just too young, too blinded by our perfect family, to notice before you were gone.
“You’re a monster,” I hiss.
“I’m your father,” He asserts. “And you will listen to me when I speak.”
“You haven’t been my father for five years, now.”
I turn on my heel and pass Burn, and I can feel him following me as we walk up the stairs to our rooms, Dad calling after us.
“Wolf! Wolfgang William Blackthorn, you will come back down those stairs this instant and we will discuss this like civilized human beings!”
I wait until Burn is in my room, then slam my door behind me and lock it. Burn seats himself on my computer chair, his face solemn.
“He’s – he’s insane.” I manage. “He’s insane if he thinks I’m going to that fucking place!”
“I know,” Burn says, patiently. All his fury is gone, now, replaced by resignation.
“He wants to tear us apart!”
“I know.”
I spin my ring feverishly, like it’s the only thing that will save me. “What do we do? We don’t have anywhere to go – Mom’s family is in Ireland –”
“Calm down,” Burn says. “Breathe. We’ll figure something out.”
“We have to get Fitz out of here,” I insist. “Before he takes him away.”
“I know. I’ve already started looking.”
“You have?”
Burn nods. “Part of the reason I ran so much was Dad. I could see it in him. And I didn’t want to face it. And when Bee said she’d been telling him things, about what we did – I knew what he’d do. He’d try to fix it, with money. With force.”
“So –”
“Jakob,” Burn says. “Jakob offered us a place to stay on his property. As long as we help him upkeep the copter, and the equipment.”
“That won’t work,” I say quickly, my brain moving just as fast. “Dad will buy the land around him. He’ll force Jakob out with – with taxes, or regulations, or –”
“Dad doesn’t know any landowners that far out, so he has no influence out there. Trust me. I checked.”
I’m quiet. I hear Dad asking his bodyguards to contact someone. Burn looks so tired, sitting on my bed. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the dark circles under his eyes are strong. He must’ve been staying up, trying to think of ways to get us out from under Dad’s thumb. The fact he’s here at all, makes my heart swell a little.
I walk over and tentatively put my hand on his shoulder. It isn’t much, but it’s my way of trying to let him know I’m thankful. Words seem somehow too hard, even though that would be the simple option. But I know he appreciates gestures more than words.
And for once, this gesture doesn’t make me shake. I don’t feel the all-consuming urge to put space between us, to turn my rings around my finger. Burn looks at my hand on his shoulder, almost incredulous.
“She helped after all, huh?” He asks. When I don’t say anything, he stands up and picks up my trash can. There, still at the top, are the ashy remnants of the essay. He picks up a piece and chuckles.