20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
T he night before, Fin had enjoyed Ollie until the long hours of the night, and he’d even crashed at their place. Having him in their space was becoming easier and easier, something they hadn’t anticipated with how long they’d been by their lonesome.
They’d basked in that bliss for as long as possible because today would guaranteed be a rough one.
They’d responded to Mom’s text, and they were meeting up at a diner closer to where they’d grown up.
A bit of an odd request from Mom, since she normally tried to aim for farther away, but Fin just wanted to get this lunch over with.
They’d see her in person and reiterate it had to be only two or three meetups a year or nothing.
At least, not while she remained with their father .
The behavior changes had their pulse speeding up the slightest bit with hope. Maybe she was finally leaving him. Fin had wanted that for a long time—for both their sakes.
They pulled into the parking lot of Eagle Diner, their skin humming.
Being this close to where they’d grown up was bad for them overall, and they regretted coming.
The beat-up, faded yellow-and-black sign still stood out, the tan, flat building a relic and not in the charming way.
This place even fucked up eggs, which—how?
That was supposed to be a universal diner staple.
Hopefully, Mom would want a quick meetup, in and out without having to suffer through too much stilted conversation.
Fin glanced at their phone, not wanting to leave their car.
Good luck.
The message from Ollie stared back at them, and fuck, they weren’t used to that sort of immediate support. That required letting folks in, and it shocked them they shared as much as they did with him.
That they were kissing him in public. Bringing him to Play Night.
However, as much as their alarm bells should be ringing, those kept silent, and Fin was becoming too addicted to the comfort.
Hell, they were just becoming addicted to him.
Ollie made them feel less broken, and damn, they never thought that was a possibility.
They pocketed their phone and opened the door. Time to face Mom.
Fin walked a few paces forward, noticing not too many cars out in the parking lot. Probably only ones from the cook and a few grizzled patrons. The place lay along a quiet stretch, random businesses tucked away in a back road, and Fin hated everything about this visit.
Especially shitty eggs .
Mom’s beat-up Hyundai sat right by the side entrance.
It looked like she hung out in the driver’s seat, so Fin steered in that direction, their heart thumping a little harder the closer they got.
Something felt off, an intuition thing. Maybe this was too close to the last meetup, and they were feeling the aftereffects.
Their fingers tingled, so they stretched them out, then clenched them. Their shoulders were quickly turning into a plank of wood. They slowed near the car and swallowed a bitter taste on their tongue. Their gaze landed on who had emerged.
Their body had been trying to warn them.
The person who stood before them was one they hadn’t seen in a long, long while.
For good reason. The years and alcohol hadn’t been kind to him.
Where once their father’s face had been full, his short chestnut hair healthy, he’d grown sallow, his strands now stringy and grayed.
The lines in his face weren’t gentle dips but harsh canyons.
His eyes were dark and hardened, focused for once.
From what Fin could remember, the days when they weren’t reddened and ruddy were rare.
Fear struck to the core of them, and they froze midstride. All too fast, they vaulted back to years and years of being a scared kid. Their heart thrummed, and fuck, everything rushed to the surface.
The roar of his voice as it reverberated through the walls of their house.
The thunks, crashes, smacks that echoed over and over again.
The bruises and cuts that had started to garner attention at school.
The monster should’ve been six feet under with the way he drank. If karma held any sway, he’d be deader than dead, but instead, the asshole stood in front of them, breathing hateful breath after hateful breath.
Their lungs constricted, and they were frozen in their spot as he approached.
The main question they wanted to ask got stuck in their throat .
Their father’s ugly face twisted into an even uglier mask. “The two of you tried to get this past me?”
Fin swallowed hard. They balled their hands into fists so tight their nails pricked into their skin. They were outside in front of a diner in broad daylight.
Except the blinds were shut, and maybe two patrons were inside this place, tucked away on a back road. No wonder their father had picked this diner.
“Where’s Mom?”
“At home.” His eyes flashed with a too-familiar rage. Bile rose in their throat, threatening to make an appearance. The sight of him was everything they’d been avoiding for years. Once they’d made their escape, they never wanted to see him again. “She’s learned her lesson.”
Fuck. They were going to be sick.
Their father’s lessons were usually violent, more than the usual backhand. No, it was a pummeling, a full-out beating. Mom would be lucky if she didn’t have internal bleeding. Fin hated that they still felt sympathy because it tangled in an ever-present rage at her for not leaving.
Why couldn’t they move?
They were a grown-ass adult and hadn’t seen this bastard in over a decade.
And yet he stopped in front of them, close enough to catch his fetid breath, to see his rotting teeth. He might not be drunk at the moment, but he was wasting away from the inside out. Fin should be turning around and heading home. They channeled every ounce of their energy to do so, but nothing.
They were nine years old and immobile as their dad struck them in the face. As he raged around the house with a terrifying wildness, and they had no recourse .
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You don’t speak to her anymore, you got that?” their father growled. “You left the house, abandoned the family. You lost the right.”
A scream remained stuck in their throat, one begging to be unleashed. This was so many nightmares that blended with memories of wanting to cry out but unable to. Of screaming for help but knowing no one was coming.
Before they could force the words from their throat, their father swung.
His fist connected with their face.
Fin’s head snapped to the side, the explosion of pain immediate.
This wasn’t the first time he’d hit them. The punches they’d collected over the years had stacked and stacked and stacked. They were phantom sensations that lived under their skin, that breathed there, a reminder to keep their guard up, to not trust, to distance, distance, distance.
Because if their own parent could do this, then others could break them too.
No. Fucking. More. Their chin throbbed.
“Don’t contact her,” he barked. “She belongs to me.”
Fucking disgusting. So fucking disgusting.
He’d always treated Mom like that, like his goddamn property to toss around as he pleased. The anger that burned in them wasn’t the flare of a sparkler. No, this was the long burn of a hearth that had been stoked for years, one that had been kept aflame, even when it dwindled to fiery coals.
He might’ve gotten a sucker punch in, but they weren’t a fucking kid anymore.
And they’d never tolerate his abuse again .
As if the punch had snapped them free from a spell, their instincts clicked into place.
They didn’t hesitate. They ducked low, sweeping their arm out around their father’s waist. In a few deft moves, they hurtled him on his back against the pavement.
They hoped it fucking hurt. Fin pressed their forearm against his throat, and he wheezed, trying to suck in a breath.
Rage pulsed through their veins fast and fierce, but they refused to back down.
“I’ve got an ultimatum of my own. I never want to see the two of you again. You try this again, and you won’t have to worry about calling the cops. I’ll bury you myself.”
Their heart thumped rapid-fire, like the spray of a machine gun, and a wildness took over. They were a feral, broken thing, The phantom pulse of tears throbbed at their eyes, but they wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.
Maybe they shouldn’t cut their mother out too. Maybe this would lead to reading her obituary far too early.
But they couldn’t keep putting themself through this, and she refused to leave.
Fin couldn’t handle seeing their father again.
They pressed their forearm a little deeper against his throat, and a gurgle came out. His eyes were wild, and he thrashed, but their pin was solid, and he was weaker than they remembered.
“Deal,” he gasped.
“When I get up, if you try anything else, I’ll have you on your back again before you can blink.
” Their cheek throbbed, and guaranteed they’d have a nasty bruise from where their father cold-cocked them.
Fin’s stomach churned, even though the flicker of fear in his eyes sent a satisfying zing through them.
Darkness pulsed through them. At how easy it would be to keep pressing down. They bit their lower lip until it bled. Fin pulled back and rolled to a stand, and their father gasped out breaths. His hands moved to his neck, and he sat up as they edged away pace after pace.
“You keep this up, both you and Mom are heading for an early grave,” Fin said, their chest heavy, as if a rock sat squarely on it.
“That a threat?” he rasped out and slowly got to his feet, his legs wobbling.
Disgust flooded them. At how afraid they’d been of this man, who was older and feeble, only capable of hurting those weaker than him. “Nah,” Fin said, starting to inch away. “Just a premonition.”