“I don’t want anything. Leave it to Marilyn.”
He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be getting our marriage annulled soon. Marilyn doesn’t deserve my life’s work. I barely know her.”
Another failed marriage. That’s not exactly newsworthy.
“Then find someone else who does want it. It’s guilt money. And I don’t want it. Ever.”
When a tear falls from his eye, I’m actually surprised.
“You’re going to blame me forever, aren’t you? You’re going to hate me forever for being a simple human. I didn’t know your mother was struggling, son. I didn’t know she was capable of doing that with you in the house. I would have gotten her help.”
Memories flash around my head, and I shut them down. Just like I always do.
“She was struggling because she was married to a self-absorbed workaholic that didn’t give a damn about her because he was too busy being a coldhearted son of a bitch.”
His jaw clenches, and he glares at me. “Don’t you dare blame me for her illness! It was a fucking chemical imbalance. My actions did not cause her issues.”
“No. You’re right. Your actions are just the reasons she slit her wrists.”
I turn to away from him, ignoring him as he follows and calls my name. I don’t have anything else to say to him. He never tried hard enough. Just like I didn’t.
I was just ten, and she didn’t care that I had to be the one to find her—to slip in her blood, to cry over her cold, still body. She didn’t love me enough to live, but she loved him enough to die.
Love is a coldblooded murderer. Love is a blanket of lies and spared truths. It’s a calculated monster that drains you of everything you have until you’re a husk of the person you once were.
“She didn’t kill he
rself because of me. It wasn’t like I was the only man she loved. She killed herself because of the disease that ate away at her mind. I could have gotten her help if I had known.”
I pause at the door, both of my hands fisted as the words process. It wasn’t like I was the only man she loved. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“You know it’s true. You can blame me all you want, but it’s not my fault. It’s not her fault. It’s just something terrible that happened too long ago for it still to be ruling you.”
I don’t have the energy to fight with him right now. My anger is still as absent as it has been lately, and all that is driving me is the pain I thought I had buried long ago. I just want to get the hell out of here and go home—where it’s quiet, peaceful, and smells like the girl I should have pushed away much sooner.
***
RYE
“So he said your mom cheated on him?” Ethan asks.
Wren sits back in his chair while I dump another one of the boxes on my bed, scattering the contents as I stagger and take another sip of the whiskey.
“Essentially,” I say, staggering again while throwing a trophy across the room.
I hate trophies.
They both stare as the pieces fall from the wall, carrying a few chips of sheetrock with it on the way to the floor.
“Did you punch him?” Wren asks cautiously, just as I grab a baseball from another box.
I throw it across the room, and it goes through the sheetrock and disappears into the wall.
I hate baseballs.
“Nope,” I say, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and refilling my glass. Ah, fuck it. I’ll just drink from the bottle.
“Do you believe him?” Ethan asks unsurely as my hand hovers over a picture frame.