Chapter Seventeen #6
He was the last to know.
No one had told him, and he was the last to know.
“You—you knew?”
“Of course I did, kid,” Henry grunted. “You think we don’t still talk?” He lifted a hand and wiped the sweat away from his brow. “We may not be married anymore, but we’re still friends.”
“You fought like crazy when I was little. You could hardly stand to look at each other.”
“Yeah, well…turns out distance and separate bedrooms do actually make the heart grow fonder. Eventually.”
Theo quieted again.
“You knew what they were going to tell me this weekend?”
“Yes.”
“And do you know what they asked me?”
“To stop being Lightm4st3r and take over the firm, yeah.” Henry cleared his throat and coughed into his hand, shaking his head and blinking as if to clear it.
“And you agree with them?!” Theo sat up again, renewed fury simmering in his stomach. If even his dad thought that—
“No, Teddy.” He shook his head. “You’re a grown man and you can make your own choices. I don’t think anyone gets to tell you what to do.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your mother asked me not to. She wanted to be the one to break it to you—she was nervous, but she was hoping you’d be excited for her.
It’s a big leap she’s taking, you know, stepping down from her life’s work.
” Henry sucked in a deep breath of air and coughed again, clearing his throat once more.
It must have been from the yelling—he wasn’t in as good a shape as he used to be, and his voice was strained.
“She’s worked hard when she didn’t have to.
Her father’s firm matters a lot to her. It’s a huge compliment that she and your uncle want to pass it to you. ”
Theo stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t you know how bad that would be?” He spread his hands out in front of him, pleading. “You know about my episode at Yale. Diego called you when I was in the hospital.”
“Yeah. I know. I remember. I took you home.” He grimaced. “You think I’d ever forget that day? When I almost lost you?”
“Then how could you think this was a good thing?”
Henry shook his head. “I didn’t say that I did, but it’s also not my business to interfere.
All this? It’s between you and your mother and your uncle.
I’m not a Redmond. I’m not a lawyer. And God knows I’m not perfect—no one is.
But one thing I’m always going to do is protect your mother and support her in her dreams and ambitions.
I think this was her way of trying to tell you that she loves you and that she wants to spend more time with you—she wants to make up for the past. She doesn’t know anything else, and she’s doing the best she can.
“As someone who has a complicated past myself, I understand. I’m comfortable with who I am—and I love her for who she is too, even if we didn’t work together.
” His eyes darted over to meet Theo’s, and he wiped more beaded sweat away from his brow.
“I still love her a whole helluva lot. I always have, and I always will. There was never anyone else for me, and there never will be.”
Theo’s preference for back roads came from his father, who always took them when going between the city and the Redmond estate. They both hated the freeways and the perpetual traffic, and the views from the hills and forests of the scenic route were far better, even at night.
Henry sped down a winding road cutting into the side of a hill.
They stared ahead in silence.
“You know, Teddy,” his father finally said, “I know you’ve got your own ideals and opinions about things. I know your morals and values—and the spectacular art you make with them—are important to you. But did you know that you can be just as rigid and stubborn as your mother and uncle are?”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Theo grumbled. “You’re one to talk morals, Dad. At least I have them. Mostly.”
Henry laughed, and it turned into a cough.
“Hey, fair enough, kid. I might be a bit more flexible in terms of what I believe than you, though it doesn’t make my opinion any less valuable, you know.
But let me tell you, after well over thirty years of dealing with Redmond bullshit, don’t think you’re at all exempt from it.
You’re not exceptional just for having the Sullivan name instead.
You’re one of them too. You’re half. Don’t discount that. ”
“I don’t want it. I don’t want any of their goddamn legacy. It comes with a price.”
“Everything in life does. Nothing’s free.
I know you grew up pretty pampered with your trust fund and your fancy prep schools, so maybe you don’t really know that, despite my best efforts to teach you otherwise, but it’s true.
It’s just a fact of life. So you need to let go of some of this bullshit.
Just let it go.” He lifted his hand and rubbed at his chest. “What did I eat?” he muttered. “Heartburn is strong tonight…”
“It’s not like being a Sullivan is a picnic either, you know.
” Theo shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his head on the window to stare out at the black wall of interminable hill outside.
The cool glass was bracing on his heated face.
His stupid ears were probably still bright red.
“I don’t want any of this. I never asked for this, I never asked to be here, and I just want everyone to leave me alone—including you, half the time.
I don’t know why it’s so hard to get that.
” He sighed. “Why would Mom think this would be a good idea? I’d be a nightmare of a lawyer, and you know this better than anyone.
I don’t understand why you’re being so cavalier about it. ”
Henry didn’t say anything, and Theo shook his head.
“Fine. I get it if you don’t want to talk about it anymore.
I definitely don’t want to. I’m so sick of this shit, talking everything to death with my parents.
It’s like you both still think I’m some little kid, but I’m a grown man, and I have been for a while.
I hate being talked down to, and everyone in this fucking family still seems to think I can’t really handle anything on my own.
She should have just told me on the phone.
She didn’t need to call me out here like this. I…”
Theo blinked.
There was more distance between him and the hill to his right.
They were also going awfully fast. His dad never cared much for speed limits and definitely loved to show off the power of his hot rods, but even this seemed excessive.
And the car was floating to the left. That was odd.
Was it the steering? Had it gone out of alignment again?
“Hey, Dad? You’re drifting into the other lane. You gotta—”
When Theo turned toward his father, he paled. Something was wrong. Henry looked ashen, and his skin was gray. His eyes were wide as he stared straight ahead at the road, and his breathing was shallow, stilted.
“Dad?”
“M-my arm. Teddy, I—” he choked out, and lights from the other side of the road lit up the rest of his face as he clutched frantically at the steering wheel with his right hand. His left fell into his lap, his fingers twitching.
The curve around the hill brightened.
Then there was noise.
“DAD!” Theo lunged for the wheel as Henry jerked the Thunderbird to the right again, but it was too late. The sound of the semi’s horn surrounded them, and all Theo saw was white, blinding light.
White.
Then nothing.
A blur.
Sensation.
Flipping—
Turning—
Churning—
Falling—
Crushing.
PRESSURE.
HORRIFIC, NIGHTMARISH PRESSURE.
Shattering.
Groaning.
And then silence.
It wasn’t the sound of him screaming that caught up to him first—no, it was the horrible feeling of the car crumpling around him, the thick, sharp steel of the Thunderbird ripping and tearing at the force of the semi hit.
The world turned upside down, then over again, over and over and over, twisting and compressing around him.
The jagged, torn steel of the car cut through Theo’s body like butter, slicing through flesh as easily as a searing-hot knife, ripping him open and shredding his face.
His nerve endings exploded into numbness, and the side of the car crushed his hip as it turned over and over again, tumbling down the hill and into the trees like a rock kicked down a mountain from on high.
He blacked out.
But just as quickly, he was back.
They’d stopped.
His heart thundered in his ears.
For a second, it was the only thing he could sense.
It was the only thing he could hear.
He opened one eye—he could only open one. As soon as he tried to blink, white-hot searing pain shot down his face, and he cried out, his limbs jolting at the feeling of it.
The crash had happened so fast, the pain hit before the sound did.
Then sound came rushing back, all of it at once, but as a ringing in Theo’s ears, a hissing noise, far off in the distance.
He could feel his life leaching away, warm and red, sticky, painting his vision vermilion.
And next to him, his father.
Henry’s chest rose and fell in slow, jerky breaths, trembling and held aloft by the seatbelt. His left hand still clutched at his heart, his face and snow-white hair were covered in blood, and the rest of his visible limbs were limp and wrenched at odd, uncanny angles.
His body was mangled. The dashboard of his beloved Thunderbird had crushed him when it bore the brunt of the impact.
But he was still alive.
Still breathing.
“D-Dad,” Theo croaked. “Dad.” It was all he could muster.
Henry’s chest fluttered, and he turned his head instinctively toward the sound. His right arm was outstretched toward his son, twisted and broken, but he could still move his fingers. The tips of them grazed Theo’s left cheek.
Teddy. His father’s lips formed the word, soundlessly, over and over again.
Teddy.
But then they slowed.
Ted.
Te—
T—
His chest stopped fluttering.
His arm went lax.
And then he was still.
“Dad?” Theo breathed. “Dad! DAD! No! NO!”
When he screamed, the pain rushed over him again, fully this time, slamming into him like a tidal wave, just as violently as the semitruck had slammed into their car.
Nothing but pain, deep and torturous, unyielding and unending.
He tried to unbuckle himself and slide over, but the second he moved, he nearly passed out again from the effort—and when he looked down, he saw why.
A tree branch, sticking straight out of his lower left abdomen.
As soon as he saw it, the sensation returned. He felt it, felt everything in his body.
His face twitched, and he felt the metal lodged there.
The shattered bones.
The tattered car door, crushed around his right side.
Blood dripping down his trembling hand.
His chest, ripped open.
His hip, ground into dust.
The more he saw, the more it burned, bit by bit as his brain became agonizingly aware.
He couldn’t handle it, the sheer, overwhelming horror of it.
He lost himself to the burning dark, to the depths of hell.
But the last thing he saw, seared forever into his memory, were his father’s glassy, lifeless eyes.
Still staring straight into his own.