Chapter 1
Chapter One
Kash
Present day
Jolting up in bed, my chest heaves as if I’m back in that kitchen, holding Mom as she sobs because Dad is dead. Sobbing because her world fell apart, and the love of her life was gone. If only that were true. I snort aloud, shaking my head.
After my dad’s death, Mom became a shell of herself.
Her normal, happy demeanor was gone, and in its place was a hollow woman.
It felt like I was living with a ghost for the first few months.
She took some time off work, but as we stood side by side at his grave, I accepted that life as I knew it was over.
My dad was killed at thirty-five in a freak accident on a job site.
I heard a few of my “uncles,” Dad’s work friends, talking about how they still couldn’t understand how it happened.
Someone was moving a load with a crane, and somehow it came loose, or broke apart, and went crashing to the ground, right where my father stood.
Another man was injured, but my dad was killed instantly.
Well, that’s what the doctors told my mom.
They assured her that he didn’t “suffer,” as if they knew anything.
Glancing at the clock, I sigh when I see it’s close to five AM.
There’s no way I’m getting back to sleep now.
Fuck knows what triggered it, but I haven’t had that dream or thought about that day in forever.
Grabbing my phone and a hair tie from the nightstand, I toss my hair up and head out to the kitchen.
Pulling a bottle of water from the fridge, I shuffle to the living room and turn the TV on.
There must be something on this late at night, or, well, early in the morning.
My phone pings with yet another notification from Bri.
God, I wish she’d stop. Scrolling through my messages, I see that there’s at least ten from yesterday alone.
She was our receptionist up until a couple of months ago.
She didn’t appreciate that I wasn’t into relationships.
I never lied to her, contrary to what she says and believes.
I simply don’t do relationships. They aren’t worth the trouble or heartache.
They never last anyway, so what’s the point?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and block whatever number she’s messaging me from, then toss my phone aside.
I’m beginning to think I should change my number or maybe find a new place.
Looking around my apartment, I realize it’s pretty bare.
Sure, I have some artwork up, but it doesn’t feel like home.
I’ve only lived here for a year, and my lease is up soon, but I don’t think I want to stay here.
Settling in, I pull a blanket from the back of my couch.
I may be a bachelor, but God knows Emma would skin me if I didn’t have basic home décor items. She doesn’t visit as often as she used to, but it doesn’t matter; the guys and I all end up at her house, anyway.
It’s the closest true thing to home I think any of us have.
Rhett, Seth, and Atlas are the foster brothers I grew up with.
Somehow, we all managed to show up within a few months of each other and, fortunately, were fairly close in age.
Rhett, Atlas, and Seth bounced around a lot, not having the best of luck, but my situation was different.
I had parents who loved me. I had a family.
Yeah, I was an only child, but up until my dad died, there was no question about us being a tight family.
Then he had to go and die, and everything got fucked up.
For someone who claimed to love someone else deeply, my mom wasted no time moving on.
After she finally pulled herself out of the shell she hid in, she started dating.
I remember watching her and my dad go on dates occasionally, but she never dressed up for him the way she did for them.
We used to fight about it a lot. When my dad died, I think a part of her died too, getting buried alongside him.
The first time my mom ever hit me was during an argument we had about a week before she left.
Kash ~ Eleven years old
“What do you mean, you have a date again?” I stare at my mom in disbelief from across the kitchen table, my science homework forgotten.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Kash Malone. You can’t expect me to be alone forever.”
Glaring at her, I shake my head. Is she serious? I don’t even think the ground has reset on the top of Dad’s grave, and she’s worried about being alone? “Strange, because Dad’s all alone and you don’t seem to give a shit about that.”
“Hey! Do not speak to me that way. I’m still your mother.” She slams her hand on the table.
“Whatever you say, Angel,” I toss out at her and take a small bit of satisfaction when her face falls. My dad used to call her that. She was his ‘angel,’ and he was convinced that she was the most perfect person in the world.
“That’s not fair. Do not call me that, Kash.”
“You know what’s not fair? That Dad is dead and buried and you’re just out with these… these men! It’s disgusting! You’re disgusting!” I can’t hold it back anymore. She knows how much I hate what she’s doing. It’s like she didn’t love him at all.
I hear the smack before I register the sting of her palm across my face. When my eyes connect with hers, I hold her gaze, refusing to cry. I can’t believe she hit me. Mom has never hit me.
When she finally looks away, I grab my homework and stomp up the stairs to my room. I’m halfway there when I hear her voice.
“Kash. I’m sorry! Wait, you’ll see, Kash. Michael is a nice guy. He’s going to take care of us.”
Without turning around, I snort. “Sure, Mom. Whatever you say.”
As it turns out, Michael’s idea of taking care of us was actually just taking care of Mom. I’ll never forgive her for how she left me. Dad didn’t have a choice, but she did. I honestly still can’t figure out which is worse.
Tossing the blanket off my lap, I head back to my bedroom.
Changing into joggers and a tank, I grab my sneakers and keys.
I'm going to the gym. Fuck it all. These memories are just another reminder of why I don’t mess with relationships.
Why bother when love doesn’t actually exist and no one ever stays in the end? No, thank you.