Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
Theo
I wished I could say the night got better, but it didn’t. My mother stormed off after ruining the whole afternoon for me, and then I had to deal with walking past people and hearing them whisper about the latest gossip of Christina Langford’s return from the dead.
My annoyance with PaPa was still high, but hell, yelling at a ghost didn’t seem like it would do me any good. I walked through the crowded house, being stopped by individuals who truly didn’t give a damn about me, asking me how I was coping.
“Oh, sweetheart. It’s a shame,” Jane Forest said, tapping her hand against my forearm. “I cannot believe he’s really gone. He was a good man.”
“Wild that your mama popped back up, too, though,” her sister, Sarah, stated. “Have you two been in contact?”
I stared blankly at the two sisters before walking away without offering them a word. That continued, and people grew more and more bold with their gossiping as more whiskey was poured.
The one who started speaking the most whiskey thoughts out loud, though?
Good ole Peter Langford.
My dumbass cousin.
He crossed my path in the dining room as I was collecting empty beer bottles. Peter patted my shoulder, the whiskey scent almost oozing from his pores. “Holy shit, Christina’s back, huh?”
I grumbled.
He was the last person I wanted to speak to about my mother’s arrival to Westin Lake.
“Not talking about it,” I muttered.
He took a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand because that was the level of drunkenness he’d made it to—no glassware needed. Drinking straight from the bottle. Mr. Classy over here.
Peter tapped his temple. “I don’t know about you, but that would fuck with my mind, my mama coming back to town for two years and not wanting to see me at all.”
“Peter,” I scolded, “fuck off.”
He held his hands up in surrender with a chuckle. “Whoa, whoa. Don’t rage at me, Theo. I’m not the one who abandoned you. Just imagine,” he said, sliding an arm around my shoulders, “your mother hates you so much that she’d go out of her way not to see you. That’s almost comical. I bet Saturday Night Live could do a hilarious skit on it.”
I shrugged his arm off me. “I’m not in the fucking mood, Peter.”
“Well, then get in the mood, cuz. Gosh, you’re always so wound up. Relax.” He rubbed my shoulder with his hand. “Drink a little,” he said, tossing whiskey straight into my face.
The rage I felt in my soul was seconds from boiling over, yet I tried my best to keep it at bay. I knew that was what Peter was looking for. He wanted me to snap. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction.
I wiped the alcohol from my face and took a few deep breaths. “You’re a fucking mess, Peter. Get help.”
I turned to walk away from him, and he followed me into the living room like a fucking annoying rodent that didn’t know when to be evicted. “Come on, Theo. Lighten up. It’s not like your lifetime enabler didn’t die and then your deadbeat mother showed up in his place,” Peter said loudly enough for other people to hear.
“Dad, what the fuck?” Jensen said from the side of the couch, staring at his father as if he’d just witnessed a monster appear.
“Peter,” I growled, my voice low and controlled. “Maybe it’s time for you to go home.”
“What? No way.” He took a swig from his bottle. “The night is still young. And isn’t this what PaPa wanted? For us to act like everything’s just one big party. Yes! Let’s celebrate, everyone!” he shouted, holding the bottle up in the air. “Let’s celebrate the life of the man who played favorites his whole fucking life! The man who couldn’t manage to love his grandchildren equally. The one who spoiled Stuttering Theo because he had a fucked-up weak personality. Let’s all raise a glass for Harold Dwight Langford,” he shouted. “The man who went out of his way to love Theo’s weird ass the most.”
“Now that’s enough, Peter,” Grandma said, walking over to Peter, and snatched the bottle from his hand. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“Right, Grandma. That’s right on time, isn’t it? You telling me how much of a failure I am. How much of a fool I am.”
I glanced around at the crowd holding their phones up to record Peter’s outburst. I didn’t like the asshole, but he lost PaPa, too. It wasn’t my place to tell him how to mourn. But I was certain he’d regret seeing the recorded videos of him drunk out of his mind the following morning. That would only add more grief to his life.
“Peter, you’re drunk. Let’s get you some fresh air,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“ Don’t fucking touch me ,” he yelled, shoving me hard against my chest, forcing me to lose my footing.
“ Dad, don’t !” Jensen blurted out, leaping over toward the two of us. Without thought, Peter shoved Jensen backward, making him stumble into a side table. My mind shut down instantly from watching Jensen get shoved to the side.
I didn’t even realize that my hand made a fist and slammed into Peter’s jawline until I saw him stumbling backward. It only took him a second to recover from the punch. He dove toward me, and we both fell to the ground, wrestling back and forth like fucking idiots while everyone stood around and watched.
“That’s enough!” Grandma cried out, trying to untangle Peter and me from one another. “Peter, Theo, that’s enough! Stop it right now.”
We kept going at it. I had him pinned down because he was too drunk to get any true movement or hits in. I held him until I felt another hand on my arm and looked up to see Willow standing over me. “Theo, hey, hey. It’s okay. Let him go. It’s all right,” she told me. “Let him go,” she begged. The fear and panic in her eyes scared me enough to let go of my hold on Peter.
Fuck.
I didn’t want this.
I didn’t want any of this.
I stood to my feet, feeling embarrassed and ashamed of myself for allowing my emotions to take the lead. I should’ve never even let Peter get me to that level of irritation, but that day was already hard. I’d simply reached my breaking point. Unfortunately, that scared Willow, which was the last thing I wanted.
Peter sat there on the floor, laughing slightly with a shake of his head. Blood from his busted lip dripped down his chin. He took the back of his hand to it and wiped it away. “Fuck you, Theo,” he blurted out. “Fuck all of you.”
“Why do you have to be like this?” Jensen cried out. “Why can’t you just be normal, Dad? Look what you did!”
“What I did?” Peter asked, stunned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m the one with the busted lip, not Theo.”
“You started it,” Grandma said.
“That’s right, Grandma.” Peter pushed himself up to a standing position. “Take his side again. Mr. Perfect Theo, who was always our grandparents’ favorite,” he slurred.
“That’s not true, Peter,” Grandma started, but he waved her off.
“Don’t try to lie, Grandma. Everyone knows it. We’ve all known it our whole lives. Little broken Theo who had a mother who didn’t love him. Poor Stuttering Theo who couldn’t pronounce words. Let’s give him everything handed on a silver platter.”
“Watch it, Peter,” I growled, stepping closer to him. The whole house had their eyes on the two of us, uncertain what Peter might’ve done next. He was wasted out of his mind. He fucking shoved his own kid!
Grandma agreed. “Yeah, honey. This isn’t going to make anything better—”
“Back off, Grandma,” he spat out.
Jensen stepped up with his chest puffed out. “Dad, don’t talk to her like that.”
Peter turned toward his son with daggers in his eyes. He moved in closer, hovering over Jensen. Before he could say anything, I stepped between the two of them.
My hands turned into fists. “If you say or do anything to that boy, I will end your life.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.
Peter hesitated for a moment, his breaths heavy and erratic. He must’ve found some common sense because it was clear that I would kick his ass again if needed. Peter might’ve been big, but I was bigger. He might’ve been able to take me when we were kids but not anymore.
Peter slowed down his breathing and noticed everyone in the space was staring. All eyes were on him.
He laughed, but it was laughter packed with embarrassment. I didn’t even know Peter had the ability to be embarrassed, but maybe that was what whiskey and funeral rants did.
He shook his head. “Of course. Even my kid loves you more than me.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a dick, that wouldn’t be the case,” Jensen spat out, shocking the hell out of me. Jensen was a good kid, and he never talked back to his father. But there he was, next to me, eyes packed with emotion and pain. I knew that pain. Wanting a parent to be something they would never know how to be. Staring into the eyes of the person who brought you into the world and not understanding how they wouldn’t want to give you all the love they had within them.
Jensen’s hands were in fists.
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Jensen. Breathe. You’re all right.”
Peter huffed and gestured toward me. “Just like that. Theo’s the hero.”
“What’s your problem with me, huh? Why have you been riding my ass for the longest time?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Theo. Maybe it’s because you act like you’re this stand-up guy who just keeps to himself, but the truth of the matter is you’re a snake. You’re a fucking slimy snake who takes things that aren’t yours.”
“You’re the one who slept with his girlfriend, Dad,” Jensen spat out, his words packed with angst.
“All right, I think this is all going on way too long,” Grandma chimed in, moving to step between us, but Peter’s eyes were locked on his son.
Peter’s chest rose and fell with his heavy inhalations. “Yeah? Yeah? Well, call it fucking payback for him fucking my wife !”
The room went silent after those words escaped Peter’s mouth.
I stood back, stunned.
Holy shit.
He knew about Thalia and me?
How?
My mouth parted, but no words were found. What the hell was I supposed to say?
Peter laughed, still wiping at his face. “Yeah. I bet you didn’t know that I knew, huh? I bet you didn’t think I’d read Thalia’s damn diaries after she passed away, but I did. I read every fucking page she wrote. And you know what? All the love letters she crafted were written out to you. You piece of shit.”
The whole room gasped from the reveal of Thalia’s and my history.
The most concerning looks came from Grandma and Jensen.
Pure shock and heartbreak.
I stood there with my mind spinning. I didn’t know what to say. What to do. How to engage. How to make anyone understand what had happened between Thalia and me all those years ago. How it was a onetime thing. How I didn’t mean…
“Yo-you tt-t-two were broken u-up,” I spat out, feeling as if I had to avenge myself. He broke her fucking heart! She came sobbing to me about it! I held her. I didn’t even want to sleep with her. I just wanted to hold her and let her know she’d be okay. She was my friend. My only friend. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean…
I felt dizzy and confused. Ashamed.
I felt so fucking ashamed.
There was nothing else I could do.
So I left.
Embarrassed.
Ashamed.
But mostly heartbroken.