Chapter 2 Heath #2
See you at school? It’s Saturday today. How am I supposed to survive two days without making sure she’s okay?
“Are you okay, Heath?” Mom asks.
“I’m fine,” I reply and look out of the moving car. I didn’t even realize when Dad started driving. I’m bewildered that he didn’t drag a driver with him. Usually he has one who drives him everywhere, but not today.
“You look mad,” Mom says.
I glare at her.
She smiles which reminds me of Hope. Fuck. I can’t survive not seeing her until Monday. I need to be at her house.
Mom frowns in worry and it punches my heart. Seriously, where did my anger go?
“Can you tell us what happened? You spent a night in jail… what did you do?”
I swallow hard and look away when I catch Dad’s eyes in the rear view mirror.
Unfortunately we’re stopped at a red light so all the attention is on me.
A minute passes. Then another.
Five minutes later and I don’t answer them.
I can’t tell them about Hope. They won’t understand it. My feelings towards her are so strong and real, I feel them in my chest and the rest of me. She consumes me deeply and completely. There’s no escape from her; not that I want.
I’m falling into her. It should be scary but I’m not afraid. I want her. I don’t care that she comes with an abusive father and a controlling mother. I want her troubles and problems and issues. I want everything she can give me and I’ll take care of her. I want to take care of her.
Fuck.
How did I get here?
One day I collided with her in the hallway, and the next I was searching for her in crowds just wanting to see her again.
Even if it were a mere glimpse. Whenever I’d see her I wanted to be close to her, talk to her and just fucking stare at her for hours not only because she was beautiful—that she is—but there’s such softness to her face that I want to protect her and just hold her.
Yeah. Me. I like hugs now. Every little moment with her is a shot of comfort, light and peace.
I want to take it and get drunk on it. I want her like I’ve never wanted anyone.
Talking to her about my sister is easy, not because she only listens to me but also understands me.
I feel like I can lower my walls around her and she’ll quickly reach for me and wrap me up in herself. She’s my safe place.
The car ride goes in silence as we reach the mansion. Dad parks in the driveway where Derek is waiting in his prim and proper uniform and opens the door for me.
“It’s good you’re back from jail, sir.”
That’s a fucking snide remark.
“It was one night,” I grumble as I get out.
He shuts the door. “It could’ve been more. Be grateful that Mr. Travon got here on time.”
I’m about to answer him when I hear my parents talking.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry,” Mom says to Dad who’s helping her out.
“You don’t look fine,” he protests.
Wrapping his arm around her tiny frame he holds her to him. Against him she looks small, and breakable. But he looks at her and holds her with such delicateness.
This is the first time I’m really seeing them. Don’t get me wrong. I’m mad at them and hate them—for abandoning me and Emery and never visiting us—but I also see them in a new light today.
“Stop fussing over me,” she taps his chest and then looks around as if searching for someone. “Where’s Heath? Did he leave? Xavier—”
The sheer panic in her voice makes me come around so I’m standing right in front of her.
Before I can say a word, I figure she’s breathing heavily and her hand is tightly holding onto her diamond necklace.
Dad frowns. Shooting me a glare, he says, “Go inside and wait for us.”
“I’m not your fucking dog.”
“I said go—”
Mom holds his hand and leans against his chest.
“What’s wrong with her?” My feelings betray me as my voice comes out weak and low, thick with worry.
Dad sighs and keeps rubbing her back. “Just go inside and wait for us. Please.” He presses in a pleading tone.
Casting a last glance at them, I leave them.
Instead of waiting inside, as he told me to, I go up to my room and lock the door.
Plopping on the bed, I grab my phone and stare at her text before typing the words.
Heath: Are you okay?
I wait for her reply. It’s early in the morning, so I don’t expect her to answer me.
Ten minutes pass and no response comes from her which drives me crazy.
I’m seconds away from marching down to her house, dragging her father out and beating the shit out of him, but it’ll cause problems for her. I’ll be put away into jail—again—and then nobody will protect her. At least, when I’m out I can do something.
Well, not fucking something apparently.
With a groan, I slump on the mattress and stare up at the ceiling.
My head is exploding. There’s so many things, all happening at the same time. Hope is back home with that monster; she doesn’t know I planned to ask her out on a date; I can’t visit her or contact her; and my parents are here.
My life is a fucking mess and for the first time I feel the weight of it laying down on me.
My breathing gets slower and deeper as the thoughts in my head swirl around in chaos.
I’m having a panic attack. It’s happening.
Just as that realization comes, my hands start trembling. I wiggle my fingers but they won’t stop shaking.
Air packs tightly into my chest. I can hardly breathe.
It’s been weeks since I last had one. I was certain I wouldn’t have them again.
I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
A knock sounds on the door loud enough to distract me.
Pulling every bit of energy out of me, I sit up and clutch my chest.
For fuck’s sake.
I hate this.
I just want to be normal.
“Heath, are you inside?” Mom says from the other side in a panicked tone.
“He’s inside. Derek said he spends all his time here.” Dad explains. A few seconds later, a much louder knock greets my door. “Open your fucking door.”
Sitting back on my hands, I close my eyes and take control of myself by doing the five-things technique I read online.
Five things I see: ceiling, floor, door, my phone and Hope.
Four things I touch: duvet, my jeans and pillow.
Three things I hear: my parents, my thoughts, my heart beat.
Two things I smell: my cologne and the disinfectant.
One thing I can taste: Hope’s lips.
“Son, open the door. Now!” Dad commands.
Getting up, I walk to the door and fling it open.
Mom stares at me in worry and Dad looks slightly anxious and pissed.
“I’m here because I want to be alone.” I tell them.
Dad narrows his eyes. “Your mom and I want to talk to you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “About?”
“Why were you in jail?”
I’m surprised that he doesn’t already know. “They didn’t tell you?”
“They told me you beat up a man. They didn’t tell me why.”
Right of course, they didn’t. Because that bastard spun the narrative and made it look like he was the victim and I was the abuser. What a fucking asshole.
“What happened, hon?” Mom asks in a fragile voice that makes it hard to not lie to her. Worry lines mark her face.
“You don’t need to worry about it,” I say.
She takes a step towards me. “How can I not? I was asleep when I heard your father getting the news that you were locked up in a cell. It was Sebastian and he was really worried about you. I was worried about you when I pulled the news out of your father. Who didn’t want to tell me.
” She glares at him before turning back to me.
“We flew down here and I was thinking about you the whole plane ride. So don’t say I don’t need to worry because I can’t stop worrying until you tell me what’s going on! ”
“Carol—”
Tears pooled in her eyes. “What’s going on? Why can’t you just tell us?”
I grind my teeth. “I just can't.”
“Why not? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything that I wasn’t supposed to do.”
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“But—”
“I need to be alone.”
I reach for the door, but Dad puts his hand on it and keeps it open.
“Your mother is not done yet,” he warns me.
I glare at him. “I am.”
He shoves the door and it hits the wall with a thud.
“You will be done when she’s done,” he says.
“Xavier, it’s fine. Don’t talk to him like that,” she says to him softly.
His gaze averts from me to her. “He doesn’t get to disrespect you.”
She looks down and fidgets with her necklace as she mumbles, “I deserve it. God knows I do.”
My throat feels thick with the cocktail of emotions that I can neither swallow nor retch up.
What am I to do? I can’t just forgive them for everything they’ve done just because they showed up to save me.
It doesn’t measure up to the years they were not here.
It doesn't erase the sick feeling that made me think that they hated me or didn’t want me.
They checked up on me, sure, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing they did was enough.
They are strangers to me. I don’t know anything about them. Little things like how they like their coffee, when they leave for work, what’s their day like and the other things. I also don’t know if they love me, care about me or want me—that bit makes me feel pathetic.
Dad turns to me, his stormy gray eyes fill with fury. “Is this how it’s going to be? You fucking disrespect your mother?”
Mom grabs his arm as tears stream down her face. “Please, calm down.”
He looks at her. “Calm down? If it were anyone else but my son I’d have that person six feet under dirt for disrespecting you and making you cry.”
She quickly wipes her tears and plasters on a weak smile. “See? I’m fine. No need to be angry at him.”
His gaze lessens in heat and he mutters a few curses before taking her hand.
His other hand pushes me back into my room, as he enters inside with Mom beside him. Turning around he locks the door and stands in front of it.
What the actual fuck?
I glare at him, but he’s matching it with his own.
“Now, you will talk.” He tells me.
Mom pulls away from him and walks over to me. She’s short compared to my six-foot-two-inches frame, and thin against my muscular, lean body. Still, the sadness in her eyes and the sorrow on her face manages to disarm me like an arrow hitting me straight in the chest.
“Would you like to sit with me?” she asks hesitantly.
“No.” I deadpan.
Dad intensifies his glare on me.
Mom slowly nods. “Right, of course. I understand.” She takes a long breath then says, “Perhaps, I can hold you for a few seconds? I need to assure myself you’re okay and here with me.”
I frown hard. “I’m right here.”
Her blue eyes soften. “Please.”
Fuck. Her eyes remind me of Hope. Big and soft like a puppy. The one person in the entire fucking world I can’t refuse to.
“Fine,” I agree.
In a second, her slender arms wrap around my waist and she presses her face against my chest.
Something strange happens. I like it.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do if…”
On instinct my hand rests over her back. “Nothing happened.” I assure her.
I find Dad staring at Mom. As if he can feel my stare, he looks up at me. There’s tension and anger in his eyes, but also worry for me and her. Something has changed about him. He’s still cold, but it’s like his defenses have weakened.
It’s been a year since I’ve seen him, and that little change is quite prominent.
Mom pulls back and there’s color to her face. She looks better just because she got to hug me.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried—”
I cut her off quickly. “I’m fine.” Somehow my tone comes out gentle.
She nods.
“Now, will you leave me so I can rest? I spent a night in a cell. I need to sleep.”
She backs up. “Yes! Of course. We’ll talk when you wake up.”
I frown. “Aren’t you leaving?”
Both of my parents freeze and share a look with each other.
It’s Dad who decides to address me. “We’re moving back home.”
My jaw hangs open in surprise.
What the fuck?
Mom joins in with a warm smile. “Permanently.”
My parents are going to be here. They are moving back home.
For fuck’s sake.
“Why?” I whisper..
Anger returns to Dad’s gray eyes. “Because of you. We’ve already lost one child. We are not losing another.”
Tears build up in Mom’s eyes and she sniffles. Dad wraps his arm around her and pulls her to him.
You lost her because you weren’t here. I want to scream those words at him, but seeing my mother become small and weak does something to my heart.
“She’s gone… Xavier” Mom sobs in Dad’s chest.
I move my legs to walk away from them when a hiss leaves my lips, and catches their attention.
Mom looks at me and slowly her gaze settles on my leg. She steps away from Dad, and starts moving closer to me. “Oh my… What’s that? Why is there blood? What happened?” Her hands start shaking.
Dad stares at the wound on my leg and then at me. “Care to explain what happened?”
I run a hand through my hair to gather myself. “It’s just a cut.”
“There’s a cut,” Mom whispers, her fingers playing with the diamond necklace. I notice how hasty her movements get and how hard she’s staring at my leg.
I glance at dad and he’s noticing the same thing. Getting closer, he puts a hand on her back and says, “I’ll call a doctor.”
Somehow those words make her pale.
“Relax,” Dad tells her as he cautiously brings her to him. “He will be okay. I promise.”
Mom breaks free from his hold and rushes out into the hallway. Dad is behind her as if he knows what’s going to happen.
Dread grows in the pit of my stomach as I stand there and try to make sense of it all.