Chapter Twenty
Thomas
“Fuck, Summer, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I—”
“Don’t. I don’t need your apologies. Or your pity. You’ve seen the truth. You can go back to ignoring me.” She’s angry and I don’t blame her, but this isn’t pity.
“Summer, I… Fuck, I don’t know what to say if I can’t apologize, but I’m not abandoning you again. Are you even okay?”
“Thomas—”
“No, Summer. You can yell, or hit me. Or both. I deserve it. Just don’t make me leave. Please. I know I’ve fucked up, but I’m here now. Please let me fix this. Can I fix this?” My voice breaks but I try to keep going. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my words barely audible as the emotion consumes me again. Tears threaten to fall as I drop my head into my hands once more, hiding away, and when I finally look up after who knows how long, I brace for Summer’s anger.
But that’s not what I get.
She takes a deep breath and pats the bed beside her, giving me a chance, and fuck am I grateful. I run a hand down my face before slowly walking over, both of us remaining silent as I sit, the weight of everything crushing me.
Cory was telling the truth. Dad hurt Summer. And now I’ve seen the evidence.
“God, Summer. I didn’t know. I tried to talk to you, the day after, but you wouldn’t see me. Cory said… It doesn’t matter. I should have tried again, tried harder.” But she never told me what she knew.
Regardless, I should have been a better brother.
The tightness in my chest grows until I feel suffocated, but I don’t rub the pain. I deserve it.
Instead of forming my own conclusions about what happened back then, I’d held on to the anger at being dragged into Summer’s mess and blindly trusted my parents. My dad. I believed him when he told me stories of Summer’s flings, and I believed him when he said she ran away. They fought so much. And she wouldn’t talk to me…and then I saw it. I saw how she was on campus. But was I wrong?
God, what the hell did I do?
“I’m sorry for not seeing you that day,” Summer says softly, her hands clasped in her lap. “I—”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I cut her off. “You were sixteen years old. You’re my sister. I should have been there for you. I should have seen the signs. Dad was always good to me. He showered me with attention, but you… I knew he gave you less, much less, maybe even nothing. I should have stepped up. You never talked about it. You were always so strong. I guess, I just thought you didn’t mind.” Fresh tears prick my eyes, and I try to blink them away, but when Summer sniffs, I lose it.
A sharp pain cements itself in my chest and I struggle to get the words out. Nothing will ever make up for the hurt my ignorance caused. “I’m sorry. I…I’ll never forgive myself.”
Tears fall as my mind takes me back to those days and what I could have done to help her.
“You were a kid too, Thomas—”
“I was nineteen.” I wasn’t a kid. I was almost nineteen. Only a few days shy.
“Barely an adult,” Summer says, but God knows why she’s defending me after what I’ve done. “I don’t blame you for anything that happened to me,” she continues. “I just hated that you were gone. That you seemed to believe their story.”
“Fuck! I wish I could go back to that time and do everything differently. I’m so sorry. I was selfish and hurt, but there are no excuses. Please tell me we can get through this?”
She shrugs before releasing a soft sigh. “We can only try,” she says, smiling through the tears.
She’s smiling.
After everything she’s been through, she’s smiling. I always knew she was strong, but her strength through all of this is inspiring. To be without her mom, to—
Jesus. Mom. This is going to break her. She believed Dad too. “You have to tell Mom.”
Summer’s shoulders drop, and she sighs, her expression full of anguish. “I think she knows.”
I’m silent on the way to our childhood home, and while I’m shocked by what Summer just told me, I don’t want to believe that Mom knew. I understand why Summer would think that—Mom never called her, never tried to find out her side of the story. Exactly like me. Only I didn’t know.
But I was a dick.
And now, we’re on our way to find out. To confront her while Dad’s not home. While he thinks he’s meeting me for a drink.
The wind blows through my smashed window, curling through our hair, and I’m thankful Summer doesn’t ask about it. I don’t know what I’d say if I had to explain it. Even now, I hate that I have to drive it. I hate everything it represents.
When we pull up and come to a stop behind Dylan’s truck, my eyes widen as Summer jumps out in a panic, not even waiting for me to switch off the ignition.
Shit.The fact that he’s here suggests they’re a lot closer than I first thought. Maybe even a couple.
I park the truck and rush out after Summer, gaining on her quickly, only a few feet behind her when she cries out. “Stop. Get away from him!”
“Fuck.” I register what she’s seeing and pick up my speed. Dad’s still home and he has Dylan pinned to the house. But since I know Dylan is stronger than he is, I can tell he’s not fighting back. He couldn’t be or Dad would be a dead man.
Summer leaps onto the porch to stop him, and I reach them just as Dad’s hand ricochets across her face, momentarily stunning me. He hit her. Again.
I’m in shock while Dylan curses, pulling my father away before throwing him into the front of the house. Protecting her.
The sound of my dad’s head hitting the wood snaps me into action, and I step forward just as Mom speaks. “You told me you’d never hurt her again.”
What?“You knew?” I can’t hide my disgust as I take over for Dylan, pinning Dad against the house. She knew? She fucking knew.
Mom doesn’t reply so I shift my focus. “Why didn’t you ever hit me?” I snap at Dad, trying hard not to hurt him…for now. “Was it because you knew I’d fight back?” I lean in close, speaking through clenched teeth. “Was it easier to prey on an innocent girl?”
I don’t understand it. Why would he hurt her? Why the lies?
Dad shrugs under my grip, my accusations having no effect on him. “I had no reason to hurt you,” he says, seemingly confused as to why I’d even ask that question. He’s heartless and I never saw it.
Bile rises in my throat but I swallow it down. “And you had a reason to hurt Summer?” I yell, pressing him harder into the wall, ignoring the pain in his expression. “Really, Dad, she was a teenager, for fucks’ sake.”
My fists tighten just as Dylan speaks from behind me. “Child,” he says bitterly. “She was a child.”
“The fuck did you say?” I spin, loosening my hold.
“He hurt her as a child,” Dylan whispers, his expression broken as my world and everything I thought I knew obliterates. “She was ten.”
That can’t be true. I would have seen the scars… I would have—
“Summer?” I choke out, turning to face her, keeping a grip on my dad as she nods, the simple gesture breaking me beyond repair.
I cry out in anger, slamming Dad against the wall, crushing his neck with my forearm. “What reason could you possibly have for what you did?”
He cringes in pain but I don’t move until he tries to speak. “We never wanted another child. I wanted to focus on you. And your mother—”
What the fuck?
I spin so quickly I get whiplash. “And Mom what? Did you know about this? Condone it?” I’m so disgusted, my mom’s sobs do nothing to soften the anger.
“Of course not, Thomas.” She steps forward but I shake my head. “I would never—”
“Your mother cheated on me,” Dad yells to stop Mom from continuing. “Summer could be another guy’s kid and yet I was forced to raise her. Chase her around whenever she ran off. I—”
My eyes bounce between Mom and Dad in disbelief. “Is that true?”
Mom looks away with a small nod, and I have my answer. My stomach drops, and I’m about to question her when Summer cuts in. “Enough,” she snaps. “I’m going home.”
She turns to walk away and relief takes over me as Dylan moves to follow her. She shouldn’t be here when I continue this conversation. Neither of them should because it’s not going to be pretty.
I’ve just turned back to Dad when he calls out to Summer, watching her over my shoulder.
“This is all your fault, Summer. It all happened because of your stupid crush on those boys. On him. That was the last straw.” All eyes flash to Dylan’s as he continues. “You embarrassed our family by sneaking out and drooling over them. You always rebelled and I had to deal with it, time and time again.” He’s talking about her sneaking off to watch the junior team’s football practice. I remember that, but why? “I’d had enough,” he adds. “And don’t tell me you were there because you wanted to play; come on, you can’t expect me to believe that. You were always nothing but trouble.”
“Are you serious right now?” I ask. This can’t be real. How did he not know? “She was watching the game because she wanted to play. We talked about it. She wanted to watch so she could learn the game. So she could play with us, with you. She just wanted your attention. Why would you think she was there for Dylan? She was ten, for fucks’ sake.”
She didn’t even know Dylan back then. Right?
“Then why didn’t she watch you train, Thomas?” Dad questions, cutting into my thoughts. “Ever think of that? If she wanted to learn, she could have watched you.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He never invited her to come to my practice. He always said it was “just for the boys” and I used to laugh about it. Jesus.
What kind of a parent hurts their child…or has these feelings toward them? And why didn’t I see it back then?
“She—”
“She’s a tramp, just like her mother. Sneaking out and making me find her all the time…”
“You—”
“And then you,” Dad yells, turning his attention to Dylan as he cuts me off again. “You had to send your dad after me. You both ruined my life.”
What? He’s fucking delusional. Dylan’s dad died… He died; he couldn’t have… But… Holy shit! Summer was ten when he died.
The story goes that Dylan’s dad, football legend Dean Mathers, took off in his car, chasing after some guy that was hurting a little girl during one of Dylan’s football practices. And he never came back. It was said that he lost control of his car, but they never found the guy to corroborate the story…
Was that Dad…and Summer?
Fuck. Dylan’s dad died because of my dad. Because he went after them.
“How?” Dylan yells, not coming to the same conclusion… God, I hope I’m wrong. “You beat Summer. My dad died. How the fuck did we ruin your life?”
“Because I watched him die!” Dad yells. “He was my idol, and I watched him die. The guilt ate me up inside.” Jesus.
So that’s why he couldn’t look at Dylan when I first introduced them. The guilt.
Dylan moves toward us, ready for blood, and I stand on alert. “Did you cause the accident?” Dylan yells, his expression menacing as my mind whirs. “Was it your fault?” Dylan continues yelling as I leap off the porch, stopping him just before he reaches us.
“It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. Hurting him won’t change a thing.” I turn to Dad without releasing my grasp on Dylan’s shoulders. “But you better answer him, or it won’t be Dylan you have to worry about.”
“I didn’t. I…”
“He just told him to leave, chased him off our property. That’s all,” Mom cuts in, defending Dad and confirming that Summer was right… she knew everything and she knew all along.
I move Dylan behind me and step toward Dad. “If all this is true, why the fuck did you hurt Summer again and kick her out at sixteen?” It doesn’t make sense. He can’t have been abusing her the entire time. I would have seen it. Wouldn’t I?
Everything they’ve said tonight has been about Summer when she was ten. There’s been no mention of ongoing abuse. And if that’s true, why did he hurt her again the night of my party? The night before she left.
I must miss something while lost in my thoughts because Dylan curses the heavens before dropping to the ground, distraught, and when I look his way, it hits me. Dad blames Summer for his guilt over Dean Mathers’s death—his idol.
“Oh, fuck.” I crouch beside Dylan, gripping his shoulder. This is going to kill him. Dad hurt Summer again because he saw Dylan, because I brought Dylan to our house for the football party. Because I introduced them. Fuck. I did this too. “Don’t,” I say even though it won’t get through to him. “Don’t blame yourself. She won’t.”
“What the hell am I missing?” Summer asks as she steps closer, making Dylan finally lift his head.
“I was at the party, Summer. He beat you because of me. Because of the guilt over my dad.”
I swallow a lump in my throat as his words confirm just how fucked-up this situation is, and when I look at Summer as she rushes toward Dylan, my heart stops. She blames herself.
“This isn’t your fault,” she says as she falls to the ground beside him, making me turn away to give them a moment.
She whispers but I try hard to block out her words until Dylan’s voice cuts in. “Not here, not now,” he pleads before Summer stands up, dusting herself off.
Without another word, she walks toward our trucks, but instead of staying behind this time, I stand and follow her, with Dylan right beside me.
We’ve barely made it halfway down the driveway when my mom cries out. “Thomas, baby, wait. Don’t go. I can’t lose you too. Please!”
For something that should elicit pain or sympathy, I feel nothing. Almost like my heart closed itself off to the outside world. Now hardened in some way.
Summer trembles as I reach her, and I grab her just as her legs give out, the pain finally hitting me. For Summer.
“We’re done,” I yell out as I hold Summer up, feeling her protest in my arms.
“Thomas, no.”
I’m about to say more when Mom continues.
“Thomas! Please, just come back. Thomas!”
She calls my name over and over but I can’t even look at her.
“Summer, this is all your fault,” Mom yells, changing tack. “I hope you know what you’ve done.”
Ignoring the rest of the world, I focus on Summer, holding her tighter as she starts to shake, both of us refusing to give Mom any kind of response. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “They will never hurt you again.”
Spinning her around, I pull her into a hug, but she pulls back. “Thomas, I appreciate all you’ve done tonight, but you can’t cut ties with them. They’ve been good to you—”
“The hell I can’t,” I cut her off. “They’re both dead to me.”
“Thomas—”
“No, Summer.” God, what kind of a person does she think I am? Fuck. A breath catches in my throat, but I cough it up. “I know I’ve got a long way to go before I earn back your trust, but I need you to know…I would never condone this. Despite the fact that it could have just as easily been me, they hurt my baby sister. Their lies made me hurt my baby sister. I will never forgive them for that. I will never forgive myself for that either.” I hug her again before opening the door of my truck, needing to get her out of here. “Let’s get you home.”
“Mind if I have a word with Summer first?” Dylan asks, and the thought hadn’t occurred to me to check in with him. She’s my priority. But I never realized she was his too. There’s so much history between them, and I had no idea.
I glance at Summer in question and she gives me a small nod.
“Okay, but we’re going to have a chat about the ‘no dating my sister’ rule,” I joke, because I have no idea what else to say.
I don’t bother waiting for his reaction before pressing a kiss to Summer’s cheek and moving to my door, giving them space. “I’ll be in the truck.”
The second I’m alone, regret fills me as the weight over everything that just happened bears down on me.
What have I done?
***
When she’s finished her chat with Dylan, Summer jumps in my truck, and we drive to her apartment in silence.
It’s not until we pull up that I finally get the courage to speak. “Summer, I don’t even have the right words. Can I do anything to help?” It’s going to take a while to process everything, but this isn’t about me. I need to be strong for her.
She tries to smile but it’s just as vacant as her eyes. “I’m fine. I just want to be alone.”
My heart breaks for her but I let it shatter. I’ll pick up the pieces later, when I know she’s truly okay. If that day ever comes.
Summer twists to get out of the truck, but I reach out to stop her. “I love you, Summer. I’m sorry that I haven’t acted like it for a while. I was angry. I wanted to hate you, but I always loved you.”
She smiles again but it’s still completely forced.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” I ask, hopeful.
“I’d love that,” she says, and I want to believe that her face brightens slightly, but it’s hard to tell.
After watching her walk inside, I drive around for a while before making my way back to the Ball House. I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go to my parents’ place. Not now. Maybe not ever. Not unless I know they’re gone. They lied. They fucking lied. Now I’m forced to live with the consequences because I believed them. God. Tears prick my eyes again, but I bite my cheek to stave them off, and it’s so hard I can taste the blood as it seeps onto my tongue. How did I get this so wrong?
When I arrive at the house, I beeline straight for the hard alcohol, thankful that Nate still has a few options in his stash after I took one last night. I knock back a few shots within seconds of opening the bottle before heading out the back. Several people try to talk to me or call my name, but I ignore them. I can’t talk to anyone about this.
I need to be alone.
I need air.
I sigh in relief when I make it to the back door, but when I step outside, under the stars, it’s stifling. I can’t breathe. I can’t focus. The images of Summer’s scars blind me, and I can’t see through it.
The farther I walk, the quieter it gets, but it’s so loud in my head that it feels like someone turned the volume up—that someone’s pounding the memories into me.
“She stole from us, Son.”
“We want her to come home. We begged her to.”
Lies, lies. All of it, fucking bullshit. Every word out of their mouths. And the stuff with Dylan… They weren’t content enough to ruin Summer’s life, they had to destroy his too.
I gulp down more whiskey and let the burn slide through my throat as the Ball House tree swing comes into view in the distance. When I lived here, I must have sat there a million times, surrounded by nature, staring into space, alone. It was always my solace, and I need that solace now.
The trees thicken around me, taking away what little light I have, forcing me to continue on almost blindly. It’s not until I’m within a few feet of the swing that I see the outline of a figure and sigh. The seat’s occupied. Of course it’s fucking occupied, and it almost makes my stupid tears fall. I can’t cry over this again. I deserve nothing but pain. And crying might get me sympathy.
I turn on a dime and head back in the opposite direction, the movement making me dizzy. But the second I hit the light, my world stops.
“Thomas?”
I freeze. That voice. It’s been years but I will never forget that voice. Lainey. My Lainey.
She’s here. In my space. My solace.
None of the past matters as I jog toward her, engulfing her in my arms when she stands from the swing. “Fuck, Lainey. I need you and you’re here. It could have been anyone on the swing. But it’s you. You’re here.”
Her breath hitches but she doesn’t shove me away. Instead, she pulls me closer, tucking herself into my chest, her hands splayed across my back. Then she just stays there. Unmoving. Waiting for me to be okay.
Only problem is, I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay.
How can I be?