25. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Milo
M y heart thudded wildly as the taxi moved at a snail’s pace through the city. It had been years since I’d last heard Mia cry and never had I heard her so upset. I could barely make out her words, as they were swallowed by her sobs and hiccups.
Branson and Noel had offered to come with me, but it was too much. Dealing with whatever it was that upset Mia, and taking them to my childhood home. I couldn’t do it, not yet, and in my haste to get away, I’d shut them out, simply telling them no and slamming the door behind me. I’d deal with the apology I owed them later. One fire at a time.
By the time I reached my father’s place, it was dark out. Mia had assured me he had left and she didn’t think he’d be back anytime soon, though she couldn’t be sure. So there was a chance I’d run into him but, for my sister, I would take the risk.
Stepping through the front door of the place I had once home, I took in my surroundings. It no longer had any of the defining features of what a home really meant to me. No fond memories, no comforting features, or smells that soothed me. No laughter or jokes or anything that was truly mine. It was nothing but a building, devoid of anything meaningful.
The only thing in it that meant anything to me was my sister and I ached to scoop her up and out of it.
Mia crashed into me, and I hugged her tightly, rubbing her back as she sobbed, her tears soaking into my Henley.
“Shhh,” I soothed and she sniffled. “It’ll be okay.”
She pulled back then, a scowl mixing with her sadness. “It won’t though, will it? I have no way out. I’m not like you, I don’t have a talent I can make a business out of and I don’t have the money to pay my own way. I’m a nineteen-year-old student with no skills, I’m trapped here.” Mia swept her hands around the spacious entryway. It was cold and bland - white walls with no art, no life, nothing but a large cream rug and a lifeless fake potted plant standing sadly on one side.
“Tell me what happened, Mi.” I didn’t want to step even one foot further into the house, but Mia motioned for me to follow her into the large, open planned kitchen. Each step deeper inside had my pulse spiking and the pinch in my lungs told me I was holding my breath. This was often how my panic attacks started - withholding air until my head spun, my chest tightening as I struggled to take in any air - and I put great effort into steadying my breathing, not wanting to go into full on panic mode when I was trying to be there for her.
I followed Mia into the kitchen and took a stool on one side of the breakfast bar while she went to the fridge and started pouring us drinks. Placing the cold sodas in front of us, she rubbed at her wet, red eyes before speaking.
“I told him I’m unhappy, that these classes are not for me and that I don’t want to work in tech or security. I told him that the only class I enjoy is my English one. I begged him to let me change my major. I begged, Milo. I told him that I’d make him proud doing something I loved, but he just shook his head and told me this was the deal. I either do what he says, go to every class or I can forget all about the one and only subject I like. He said that when I’m done and working alongside him, I’ll be glad I listened to him.”
Gritting my teeth, I bit back the words I wanted to say. Anger bubbled inside me, pushing at my skin in an attempt to break through. I feared though that if I let the anger out, it would be hard to contain.
“Oh, and it gets worse.”
I raised an eyebrow, not sure how it could possibly be worse than a father manipulating his child the way he was. I knew he’d never hit her or harm her physically, not the way he had me. She was safe around him at the very least. His hatred of me was all down to the blame he laid on my shoulders for my mother’s death.
“He suggested I go on a date with some client’s son. Like, why the fuck would I want to do that? He is trying to control everything, Milo, and I can’t do it. But what choice do I have?”
I thought about the choices I had made to get away from our father. How I’d had to work multiple jobs for six years until I had enough money to leave. How in those six years he’d talked down to me and even hit me when he thought I was disrespecting him, and how I’d cried myself to sleep believing I was as useless as he always said. I couldn’t stand by and let him do this to Mia. I wouldn’t let him dampen that light inside her.
“I’ll help you. You can come live with me and we’ll make a plan. I don’t have the money to pay for your schooling, yet. But we can see what grants are available and I’ll get a weekend job. I promise you, I’ll make it work.”
Mia’s eyes widened seconds before the air in the room shifted.
“Like hell you will.” My father’s commanding voice came from behind me while my blood froze, like ice had been thrown over me.
Standing, I turned to face the man who hated me so much.
“Mia is not happy. Why don’t you let her do what she wants? I’m sure there are plenty of qualified people who could work alongside you.” It was the first time I had ever spoken up to him, but I was bolstered by the courage that suddenly lived in me, the knowing that I could get away because I had a life, a better life outside these walls.
“Don’t stick your nose where it’s not wanted, Milo. I suggest you turn around and leave, you’re not welcome here,” he spat, stepping closer to me. For a brief second I wanted to turn and run but I didn’t, pressing down on my feet and feeling the solid ground below me.
“I’m sticking my nose in because I’m not going to just watch you ruin Mia’s life. You’re selfish and she doesn’t deserve this.” Not taking my eyes off of him, I said to Mia, “Mi, grab your things, let’s go.”
My father’s face contorted, rage morphing his features into the man - the monster - I had grown to fear. “Mia, you will do no such thing.” I turned towards my sister, watching as she paled, tears spilling from her eyes. I went to reach for her, moving to get around the breakfast bar but he grabbed my upper arm, hard enough to bruise and then spun me around.
“Let go of me, you fucking prick,” I should have known better than to talk back to him. Should have known better than to trust the courage I’d mustered because, as I opened my mouth to speak to Mia again, my words were lost as my father’s fist connected with my face, not once but twice. A blooming heat spread across my cheek as I stumbled backwards.
“Milo!” Mia cried out, rushing towards me and grabbing me around the shoulders. My hand shot out to cover the aching spot on my face and I looked at my father, ashamed of myself for letting him get the upper hand yet again and showing Mia how weak I was.
“Get out of my house and stay away from your sister before you ruin her life more than you already have,” he ground out, shaking his swollen fist.
“He hasn’t ruined my life!” Mia shouted and my heart sank. I knew where he was going with this, it was my greatest fear and I was looking it right in the eye.
“Oh, but he has. Why don’t you tell your sister how you killed her mother.” Mia dropped her hands from me, putting some distance between us, and I turned towards her tear-streaked face.
“What does he mean?” She shook her head but didn’t take her eyes off of me. Her brow was raised in question and her bottom lip quivered.
I couldn’t breathe and my heart was beating in a way that didn’t feel right. “That’s not fair.” It was a whisper, a sad, sorrow filled whisper and I hated how small I sounded.
You’re weak, Milo. Weak.
“What’s not fair was your mother dying because you were so fucking useless. A mistake, Milo. That’s what you've always been. Mia is better off without you.” His words stung, like a blade to the abdomen, and my breath caught in my throat, trying to choke me.
From next to me came the heartbreaking sobs of my sister, the only family I had left. She’d hate me now. I always knew it was coming. I was going to be sick. My fight or flight response kicked in and I turned and ran, right out of the house and away from Mia. A better brother would have dragged her out of there, but I wasn’t him.
I ran like the fucking coward I had always been.
By the time I had calmed down enough to think about my next steps, I was on a dark street I didn’t recognise. My lungs ached and my skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, now cooling in the night air. Pulling out my phone, I opened the rideshare app and pinned my location. My fingers stalled over the keyboard, unsure what to put as my destination.
I could either go back to my apartment where I'd be alone or go to the hotel where Noel and Branson were waiting for me. Sighing, I entered the hotel's address. Once they got a look at me there'd be questions and I was sure when they learned the truth, they'd leave me. First Mia, now the men I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Best to get it all over with in one night. Then in the morning I could try to pick up the pieces of my broken heart.
Catching sight of myself in the elevator mirror made my gut clench tightly, leaving me feeling nauseous and unsteady. My cheek was bright red and swollen and on closer inspection I could see tiny broken blood vessels beneath the skin. It hadn’t started to bruise yet but there was no hiding the fact that something or someone had hit me. My hair was a mess, my eyes were bloodshot and my skin was flushed and clammy.
Not quite sure what I was going to say, I hesitantly opened the door to our suite and stepped inside. Within seconds, Branson was up and off the sofa heading straight for me.
“You’re back. How is Mia? Wha-” his words cut off abruptly when his eyes landed on my cheek. “Milo? What happened?” My heart was lodged in my throat and I couldn’t move. Couldn’t get my tongue around the words I needed to say. Gently, Branson ran his fingers over my face and I flinched as tears filled my eyes. His deep blues were filled with concern and the more I looked at him and the more I felt his tender touch, the harder it became to hold back the tears. Slowly, and without my permission, a hot salty tear escaped, marking a path down my skin. “Babe, talk to us, please.”
Behind him, Noel wore a look I’d never seen before. His jaw was tense, and his eyes were hard and cold - the usual ocean blue now a stormy grey. He stepped up to me on the other side of Branson and slowly, as though he was afraid I would push him away, he gripped my chin, turning my face to get a better look at my swollen cheek. “Who did this to you?” Noel was angry. I could feel it in the tone of his voice and the iciness in his gaze.
Swallowing back a sob, I shook my head. Once I started talking, that would be it. This would all come crashing down on me. I loved them, I loved them so fucking much and I hadn’t even had the chance to tell them yet.
“Please. Tell us what happened.” Branson’s voice was softer than Noel’s and I noticed a tear running down his own cheek, mirroring the ones that now flowed freely down mine. I shook my head then dropped it, staring down at my feet, my vision hazy.
“Someone hurt you and that’s not okay. I will deal with it, I just need you to talk to us.” Noel, our protector and caretaker, wanted to fix everything but he couldn’t.
“You can’t fix it, Noel,” a hiccup escaped as I spoke, shaking my head again to drive home my point. “You can’t undo what I did.”
Lifting my head, I took in the worry etched across Branson’s brow, his watery eyes and the tight lines around them. “What do you mean? It looks like someone hit you Milo. What could you have possibly done to deserve that? I don’t believe for a second that you did anything to cause this.”
“I killed her,” I whispered hoping they heard me so I wouldn’t have to say it again and I was momentarily relieved when their responses told me they had.
“Killed who? Milo, what is going on?” Noel asked, a sense of urgency in his voice.
My body shook with the held back sobs. Time to rip off the band aid and share my shameful truth.
“My mom. It was my fault, all my fault. She died because I was a useless son. I ruined Mia’s life because I took her mom away from her. I don’t deserve to be happy. I don’t deserve you two because I’m worthless.”
All those awful, horrible things my father had said to me, about me, since the day she died, came rushing back. My head swam with each and every verbal blow, his words like a dagger to my already-bruised soul and I smashed my hands to my temples, trying to knock them away, trying to escape him for good.
“I failed her because I can’t do anything right. Because I’m stupid and a mistake and now Mia hates me and so will you. You don’t need my mess, you’re both perfect and I’ll just spoil this too.”
“Hey, stop that,” Noel commanded, as he pulled my hands away from my head and held them firmly against my chest. “None of that is true, Milo. You are none of those things. You are not worthless or useless or a mess that will ruin anything. You are not stupid and you are not a mistake. I don’t know who fed you these lies but I really hope you will tell us one day.”
“I just can’t.” Fuck, I felt defeated.
“Why can’t you tell us the truth, tell us who hurt you?” Branson asked and if my heart wasn’t already shattered, it would be breaking at the sound of pain in his voice.
“Because it makes me weak and a burden and you deserve better.” I’m a grown man getting beat up by his father. I’m weak, and feel ashamed that yet again I couldn’t stand up for myself.
“That’s all bullshit.” Noel gripped my cheeks again, cautiously, trying not to press on the bruising flesh. He turned my face so we were eye to eye. My throat tightened when Branson’s smaller, softer hand twined with mine and squeezed as though he was trying to pass some of his energy to me in a bid to wash away the defeat crushing me. I accepted the gesture, squeezing back. Branson's heart was big and pure and just maybe, he'd have the strength to hold me together, even if just for a little while.
“You are strong, Milo. Stronger than you give yourself credit for and stronger than whatever it is that is haunting you.” Noel wouldn’t break eye contact, speaking directly to my heart and making sure I heard every word. “And even if you weren’t, even if the weight of it all was too much for you to carry, we’d be strong for you. I would carry the weight of the world for the two of you. You’re not alone and whatever happened, whatever this all is, we are with you. There is nothing you can say about your past that will change that.”
The dam broke. Every sob and tear that I’d been holding back, every time I never cried over the cuts and bruises and the harmful words, all the grieving I never did for my mother, it all came crashing down on me. My knees gave in and I sank towards the floor, but just like he said he would, Noel caught me, pulling me into him and kissing the tears that littered my cheeks.
Branson’s warm body embraced me and he stroked my hair, all the while muttering words of praise and affection. “You’re perfect, Milo. So strong and perfect.” Their scents mixed together and I breathed them in. Warmth. Comfort. Home.
Without another word, they led me to bed, undressed me and themselves down to our boxers, then tucked me under the covers. Usually, Branson took the spot in the middle but knowing exactly how much I needed them, they flanked me on either side. Lying on my side, I faced Branson who peppered my face and neck with tender kisses, each one punctuated by a word - perfect, strong, amazing, wonderful, ours.
The fear that they'd leave me evaporated, the worry drowned out by their touches. They'd chosen me. Weak or pathetic, broken or useless. Whether what my father had said was true or not, they'd chosen me.
From behind, Noel held tightly, his arms and legs a welcome weight on top of me while he nuzzled the back of my neck.
Their warm bodies pressed to mine with barely an inch between us and for the first time all night, I breathed a breath that didn’t hurt.
Hours later I woke with a start and a tightness in my chest. My vision was blurry thanks to the thick hot tears that streamed down my face. Rubbing them away, I hissed when my hand pressed over the swelling I'd momentarily forgotten about.
Trying not to disturb the two sleeping bodies walling me in, I moved slowly, climbing out at the bottom of the bed. Once I was out of the room, my forehead leaning against the cool glass of the floor to ceiling window in the lounge, I let the sobs escape me again. I wondered how much longer I could cry, or if eventually I’d have nothing left in me.
For the first time since she died - fourteen years ago - I grieved my mother’s loss. All those years ago, instead of dealing with her death, I spent my childhood trying to avoid the monster that had replaced my father. He never spoke to me about her, he never even let me say goodbye properly. I don't even know what happened to her body.
All I know is that I was with her moments before she died and then I buried every feeling that time brought out. I existed in this state of fear and guilt for so long and no one ever said anything about it, because no one cared.
As the tears continued to stream down my face, I rubbed at the ache in my chest. All the grief and trauma over that day wasn't willing to stay buried any longer. Opening my heart to Branson and Noel had cracked something inside of me - that wall behind which I hid the pain of my mother’s death.
Turning my back to the window, I slid down pulling my knees up and burying my head. I wish I could have told her I was sorry, that I loved her. That I never meant to let her down. As grief racked me, my breath struggling to come out, a warm gentle embrace engulfed me.
“Shh, babe, I've got you.” Branson. And he did, he had me, holding me with all his strength. He knew what it was like to lose someone so close to you and yet he lived his life so differently. I'd spent years afraid, years losing myself in random men, and years hating myself for all of it.
“How,” I started, my voice cracking. “How did you do it? How did you move on when you lost your dad?”
Branson rested his head on my shoulder. “I didn't move on or get over it. His loss is still a pain I feel every day but I try to live the life he wanted for me. I feel closer to him that way. I'm not sure it ever gets easier, but rather it becomes a part of who you are. For me anyway.”
He moved then, reaching for my unharmed cheek and lifted it so he could see my face. “There's no one-size-fits-all version of grief, Milo. We all deal with it the best we can.”
I shook my head, “I don't think I ever dealt with her death. I was never given the chance.”
“Well, you can now, and I'll be here with you and so will Noel. And maybe, you could talk to someone professional about it?”
I nodded weakly. Maybe.
“What about Mia?” The thought of my sister and the pain etched on her face the last time I'd seen her had the ache inside me intensifying.
“Talk to her tomorrow, once you’ve both had a chance to sleep. She loves you, Milo. ” I was so grateful for Branson, with his soft words, big heart and the way he always knew what I needed.
A fresh wave of tears flowed but they left me feeling lighter, like letting them out had lifted some of the weight off of me. Not holding it in anymore, not carrying all that guilt and letting myself feel was cathartic. Branson stood, reached for my hand and pulled me up.
“Come back to bed and let us take care of you.” And they did, holding and kissing me long into the night, not letting go until the sun rose.
When I woke the next morning, I was surrounded by heat, a thin layer of sweat coated my back and neck and it took a moment for the night before to come flooding back to me. Burying my head in my pillow, I breathed in the scent of the men around me and tried to will my body back to sleep - the sooner I woke up, the sooner I would need to talk about what had happened and why. I knew they would respect my privacy if I asked but I also felt they deserved to know the truth. We were building something together and my past, as horrible as it was, was still a part of me, and I wanted to give myself to Branson and Noel fully.
Branson nuzzled his nose in my neck and I turned towards him, feeling Noel pull me against his warm, hard chest. With both their eyes still closed I had the courage to talk, to pour out every painful part of my history.
“When I was ten, my mom was pregnant with my brother.” Branson’s eyes shot open, mine, and I rubbed my hand over his eyelids hoping he would get the hint that I needed to say this without them watching me. Behind me, Noel kissed my neck but didn’t say a word and Branson closed his eyes and took my hand in his.
“I don’t remember when the baby was due but I knew it wasn’t too long to go. Everyone was so excited and dad took us to the house in the Hampton’s saying we should go before the baby comes. On one of the days we were there, Dad and Mia were out of the house - Mia was with the nanny - and I was home alone with mom. We had been having fun together in the kitchen, trying to bake a cake, when she felt a sharp pain in her belly. Everything happened so fast, and she bent over and there was blood and she was crying and I panicked.” I could feel the all too familiar sensation washing over me but they both sensed it and squeezed me tighter, grounding me to their bodies and the bed.
“I tried to get help but I couldn’t find anyone and I didn’t think to call 9-1-1, even though I had been taught to do that in emergencies. I made the wrong choice and by the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late. When dad got home, I told him I tried to help, that I went to the neighbours but all he cared about was that I hadn’t called emergency services immediately. That I had wasted precious time by not thinking.” A lonesome tear escaped and rolled down my cheek as my mind wandered back to that day, to the way my father had changed in a heartbeat.
“He hated me after that. He blamed me for her death, for taking away the love of his life. He said I robbed Mia of her mother because I was stupid, and useless. He was never the same again and he acted like I was his biggest regret.” Gentle lips touched my neck as I continued pouring out my heart.
“At first his abuse was verbal, then he started withholding money from me, refusing to pay for things I needed. Or, if he was willing to hand over the money, it would usually come with a verbal berating of some form to the point I was often too scared to ask. He started bringing different women home, spending money on cars and lavish holidays I was never invited to. He promised Mia things but never delivered on them and I was there to pick up the pieces everytime he failed her. Eventually that wasn’t enough for him and if I irritated him or he felt disrespected, he’d hit me or lock me alone for days with only a bottle of water.”
Noel’s body tensed and his breathing picked up, hot against my naked shoulder. Branson’s eyes opened, tears welling on the edges before he closed them again then brought his hand up to rest on my cheek.
“I tried to be a good son and to be a good brother but he blamed me and he made sure I knew that every chance he got, he couldn’t let it go and things only got worse as time went on.” With tears streaming down my face, I told them about the time he’d pushed me through a glass table and the time he’d broken my arm. Then I moved on to the later years and how his words had cut deeper than the glass and how he was never violent to Mia but how he still had control over her and her future.
When I was finally done, my eyes and throat burned and the silence in the room was heavy. Slowly, Branson opened his eyes then leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to my lips.
“Your father was wrong about you, Milo,” he murmured quietly. “You’re strong and you’re important and you’re one of the best people I know. I’m glad you’re in my life, I hate what you went through, I hate that you spent so many years feeling like his words defined you. I’m glad though that you walked through my door that day because you belong here with us, and we’ll never let anyone hurt you like that again.”
Noel reached his hand over me and pulled Branson closer, squashing me between the two of them so that I could barely breathe but I didn’t care, because I felt his words as they slid into my heart - I belonged with them. That was a safety I hadn’t felt in a very long time.