Before she could reply, the front door slammed and heavy footsteps stomped inside. “Dad!”
Dermot.
Shit.
Growing up, it became apparent that Darragh, Davina, and I got a lot of character traits from Dad. Dermot and Dillon were a lot like Mom.
I braced.
“In here,” Dad responded, and tension seemed to build around the table as Dermot’s footsteps neared.
And then he was there.
His eyes drifted around the table and then stopped on me. Dermot may have had my mom’s nature, but he looked like my dad and Darragh. His nostrils flared at the sight of me.
“Mom’s only out of the fuckin’ house five minutes, and that bitch is back.”
My chest tightened with hurt.
Darragh flew out of his chair. “You watch your mouth.”
“You all forgive her?” He glared at my family. “She took off, forgot we existed, and then turned Dad against Mom.”
“Oh, that’s right, Dermot, you let Mom’s twisted lies poison you. You can’t think for yourself. You have no idea what happened.” My sister was livid.
“Mom’s been here for the last nine years. She walks in and has obviously told you shit, and you believe that over Mom?”
“Well, yeah, because nine years does not negate the fact that I know Mom and I know Dahlia … so yeah, I know who I believe.”
Dermot shook his head in disgust and then looked down at Dad. “This is Mom’s house, and no matter what is happening between you two, it’s a fuckin’ disgrace you let that trash in here.”
Instead of the tears that my brother’s and sister’s acceptance brought on, Dermot’s vitriol turned me to ice. I numbed him out, unable to feel his words because they would hurt too much. Growing up, we’d been closer in age, and we used to hang out all the time. We shared the same friends. We’d been friends. Best of friends.
Now he hated me.
Dad rose slowly from his chair, and Dermot shifted back on his feet uncertainly. Our dad rarely got mad but when he did, it wasn’t with a typical Irish temper of yelling and cursing.
He got real quiet.
“This is my house,” he said, his voice all menacing softness, “and this is my daughter.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Now you either respect that this is my house and respect your sister’s presence in it, or you can turn your ass back around and get the hell out.”
Hurt saturated Dermot’s features. He shook his head in disbelief. “Christ, you’re all blind.”
And on that, he stormed out.
An awful silence filled the kitchen as Dad sat wearily back down at the table.
I looked at my family who stared at me in concern.
I shrugged, needing to lighten the mood despite my inner turmoil. “That was not as bad as the time he rolled dog shit in a piece of newspaper and left it under my bed.”
As I’d hoped, they all chuckled, thankful for the break in tension.
Seeming reluctant to leave me, Darragh and Davina both took calls from Krista and Astrid respectively and told them they wouldn’t be home for dinner. Instead, they stayed, and we ordered Chinese takeout. I got the impression they were afraid that if they left, I’d disappear again. Along with some self-reproach came the reassurance that no matter how difficult it would be to move on from the past, my big brother and sister still loved me.
They caught me up on what was happening in their lives, and they asked about Hartwell. I had a lot of fun describing the characters who lived on the boardwalk, especially Bailey. Davina got quiet when I talked about Bailey, however, and I understood she was still upset with me. Bailey knew things about my life that no one else did.
After what I’d told them in the kitchen, it wasn’t surprising that none of them asked about my romantic life. Maybe they were afraid it would set off another round of sobbing. It wouldn’t. I know it hadn’t sounded like it to them, but I’d moved on. If I hadn’t bef