“Hi, Mr. Powell.”
He dismissed her quickly and set his eyes on me. “We need to talk.”
Hayley was quick to add, “I’ll just go upstairs and call Ollie and Piper to make sure they got home okay.” Then, she spun around and darted to the stairs, clutching my phone in her hand.
Something about the way my father was looking at me and the fact that Hayley left my side had me feeling uneasy. I felt like a caged animal, ready to attack the first person who came near.
“What’s this about?”
“Christian, I told you to stay out of that girl’s business.”
That girl? As if she didn’t have a name.
“You mean Hayley? Yeah, I know.”
He grunted, running his hand through his hair. Jim sat back down and sipped on his coffee as my father continued to talk. “Yes. Hayley. Digging around in her life isn’t smart. And Jim”—he gave him a pointed look—“is officially done feeding you information.”
My chest felt tight. “And what the hell do you know about her life?” I walked farther into the kitchen. “What the hell do you care if Jim looks into things?”
He stomped over to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, snagging a glass. “There are things that you don’t know about her. There are things she doesn’t know.”
“Like what? Because I know plenty. I know her father was murdered. I know her mom is a junkie and left Hayley to fend for herself. I know her foster dad has abused her and that he fucking locks her in her room at night. I know her old foster brother tried to rape her. I know there are men that think she’s theirs for the taking because of something her father did. I know plenty, Dad. And guess what? I care. I’m not just going to turn my back on someone because they have problems in their life—unlike you.”
His heavy brow furrowed. His jaw clenched. I see where I get it from. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, come on!” I threw my hands out, the blood in my veins rushing to the tips of my fingers. Anger was seeping out of every possible outlet. “You knew Mom was struggling. You knew she was abusing her pills.” My voice was growing louder and louder, but I couldn’t seem to stop yelling. “You turned your back when things got messy. She was fucked-up, and you left Ollie and me here with her. I mean,”—I rounded the island, Jim’s eyes bouncing back and forth between my father and me—“I fucking found her body, and it took you twelve fucking hours to come home.”
It felt like the bomb inside my chest that had been ticking since Mom died had finally exploded. My pain from the memory was quickly morphed into unmatched anger. I’d kept things locked away for years, but as I grew older and understood things more clearly than my thirteen-year-old self could, it pissed me off to oblivion.
I kept going as my father stood and stared at me, his gray eyes burning holes in my chest. “For the last five years, I’ve blamed myself.” I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Actually, I blamed Hayley. That night Mom got in the accident?” My father and I were inches apart now. My feet continued to drag my body closer to his as if yelling at him from across the room was no longer working for me. “It was my fault. Hayley called because her parents were fighting, and then she wouldn’t pick up the phone. I knew something was wrong, so I asked Mom to take me over so I could check on her, but she wouldn’t, so I got angry and darted out the door and onto my bike. She was out looking for me when she got in the accident.” Another harsh laugh fell out of my mouth. I dropped my head and looked at my shoes, feeling as small as the boy who inevitably watched his mother self-destruct to the point of death.
Pulling my attention from my feet, I leveled him with a stare. “This whole time, I’d been putting the blame on myself for going out that night, for not seeing the signs before it was too late, but it’s not my fucking fault.” My finger hit his chest. “It was your fault. I never should have had to find her. I never should have had to make sure Ollie and I were taken care of when she was too drugged up to get out of bed. You should have been here.” I pushed my finger into his chest even harder. I was ready for him to lose it, to show me that temper that I’d inherited. “It’s your fault. I won’t turn my back on Hayley just because her life is hard, so don’t ask me to.”
He dropped his head, staring at my finger. His voice nearly shook when it exited his body. “You’re right.”
I dropped my hand slowly, almost annoyed he wasn’t sparring with me. I didn’t want to be right. I didn’t want him to be submissive. What I really wanted was this entire fucking mess to disappear. I wanted the nervous feeling deep in my stomach to dissipate. The knots were tied around and around like a tangled bundle of cords.
“But can you blame me for wanting to keep you safe? I lost your mother. Do you think I want to lose you too? Or your brother?”
“What are you talking about? You mean with Hayley?”
“Yes, I mean with Hayley!” He slapped his hand onto the marble counter. His neck turned in Jim’s direction, and that must have given Jim the push he needed, because he stood up and started to explain.
“I have to stop looking into the threats and the attack.” My teeth ground together so hard I thought I might have broken some. “It’s dangerous, and not to mention, if I dig any more, I could be lawfully convicted. It’s an undercover sting. They know who killed Hayley’s father. They know a lot about him and his gang. They’re responsible for the majority of crime in the city. Probably one of the biggest drug runners in our state.” Jim darted his attention to my father and then back to me. He rubbed his tired face, the scratch of his five o’clock shadow the only sound in the kitchen. “This isn’t my first time running into them, per se. I’ve watched them before.”
My eyebrows dipped. “When?”
My father answered. “Before your mom got into the crash.”
The beats of my heart tripled. My words came out callous. “What do you mean?”
My father's head tipped upward, and he stared at the ceiling. When he leveled me with a stare, I could see it plain as day: guilt. I could see it
clearly because it was the same look I’d had for the last several years. “The crash wasn’t what caused your mom to become addicted to narcotics.”
I kept my face unmoving in fear that even a small twitch would make me break everything in half.
“Christian,”—my father’s gaze swept the room—“your mom was using pills well before the crash. And she got the majority of them from the drug dealers that Hayley’s father was laundering money for.”