44. Colson
FORTY-FOUR
COLSON
I fucking did it.
I took a dive, and Tommy was none the wiser. Eli and two other guys hauled me back over to the delivery dock after. When I finally opened my eyes, most of the crowd was gone, only a few guys lingering for their payout. Relief moved through me like a freight train barreling down a goddamn railway.
My face is almost unrecognizable, but as I lay in Mom’s bed and look around, I know it was worth it. This is mine now. All fucking mine. I just have to go see Clyde and tie the deal up with a nice frilly bow. I can already see him signing off on the house, can imagine his chicken scratch signature at the bottom of the piece of paper that will make me the owner.
I’m already going through plans in my head of what I’ll do to the place, and for the first time in what seems like months, this sense of relief ripples within me. Mom’s grief isn’t pulling me in every direction. The truth of who my father is doesn’t trail behind me like a lost shadow. I haven’t even thought about Finn. That could be because he hasn’t shown his face like he once did, but I’m more than okay with knowing that he finally got the hint.
After I get tired of lounging, which doesn’t take long with this new excitement coursing through me, I hop up and head for the bathroom. I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and am met with a swollen eye, busted lip, and bruising all over my face. It’s like I went head-to-head with a UFC title champ.
I flick on the shower and step in before the water fully warms. It moves over my sore muscles. It isn’t until I glance down to wash my body that my skin glares back at me in a washed-out combination of sunset clouds leading into nightfall.
Violet shapes in my mind at the sight of it. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Her beautiful face materializes, and it’s hard to push away. I’ve managed it for weeks now, but it’s getting harder not seeing her. I convinced myself she didn’t need this lifestyle, that she didn’t need me, but more than ever, I think I need her. It’s not just that, though.
Waking up in Mom’s bed alone every morning has me thinking how much I miss what we had. The laughs, the smiles, the love. Love that I never got to know before her. Love that I buried deep beneath the surface because my grief didn’t want to share me.
The outrageous words I said to her. The way I acted. I’m ashamed of it all, and I know she doesn’t like me fighting, but we could come to some kind of compromise. We could. We could get back what we had.
This needy sensation overcomes me as hot water races down my back. I think of all the time we spent together. I recall how it was a blessing to run my palms over her perfect skin. The instances where she looked at me with adoration filling her eyes. Like she cared about every aspect of my being and thought I was always more than enough. And I fucking miss it. Her. Those intimate moments. Those eyes that hold a thousand stories. Her body rolling on top of mine while I caress her in all the sweetest spots.
It tugs at something carnal in me and before I know what’s happening, a heaviness settles between my legs. I grip myself before I can count to three.
I feel good in my hand, but Violet…she feels even better in my mind.
My car door slams, and there’s a pep in my step as I climb the porch landing at Clyde’s. There’s this eagerness, filling my heart and pumping out through my extremities, reminding me of the pogo stick Mom got for me when I was a kid, and how elated I was to have a present to open on a birthday, but also that she was thoughtful in choosing it.
I wonder if Finn ever had that. Something tells me Clyde never thought about birthdays and holidays or simply tucking his kid into bed each night. Not that I got that with Mom, either, but when I think about the woman who answered the door the last time I was here, part of me hopes she was able to give him more than I got. Even if I do hate his guts.
I pound my fist on the door.
Finn’s Mom isn’t standing there when the door swings open. Instead, it’s my half brother himself, his hand firmly gripping the edge of the door as he does a double take. His gaze travels back into the house before he walks onto the porch with me, pulling the door shut behind him.
He lowers his voice to ask, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I smirk. “So, you can show up to my place whenever you damn well please, but I can’t show up at yours?”
“Whatever the reason, you need to get the fuck out of here. You want to chat, I’ll meet you at your place later.”
But see, that’s just the thing. He’s as unimportant in my mind as he was the first time I told him I didn’t want a thing to do with him.
“I’m not here for you.” I glance back at the door. “Where’s your dad?”
An odd expression takes over his face. For a split second, I wonder if he’s bummed out over it—me wanting more to do with Clyde than him.
“The fuck you need him for?” he questions with a fine line between his brows.
“Afraid I’m stealing your golden light?” I ask with a quirked brow.
“Fuck if I care. You can have as much of it as you want.”
“As much as I’d love it,” I whip out sarcastically. “Not interested.” I know it’s eating him up inside, not knowing what’s going on. This petty part of me high fives myself for it.
He narrows his gaze on me at the same time the door opens behind him. Clyde looms in the doorway.
“Look at that,” Clyde quips with a devilish smirk. “My sons are bonding.”
“He’s here for you,” is what Finn grits out before jogging down the steps toward his car. Too in my head, I don’t realize his car is in the driveway until I glance over.
Finn doesn’t spare either of us a second glance as he climbs into his SUV and backs straight out into the street without checking for traffic. He zooms off down the street, disappearing around the corner a second later.
“Kid always got a goddamn bug up his ass.” He walks back into the house, and I take it as my sign to follow. There are a few guys lingering in the living room, no sight of Finn’s mom as I look around. Their attention follows me as Clyde guides me to the same room we spoke in last time.
It has the same moody vibes and stench of burning cigarettes clinging to the furniture. Clyde doesn’t bother to sit, but he does light up a smoke.
“I’m here to collect on our deal,” I tell him.
“Do I look like a pussy-whipped dumbass?” he asks, though I’m pretty sure it’s rhetoric. “I know why you’re here.”
“So, then you’re ready to sign off. Hold up your end of the bargain just like I did mine.”
“Not so fast.” He turns to look at me. Similar to last time, I watch my surroundings and never let my back face the door. I don’t trust those guys out in the living room wouldn’t storm in and try something. “Your loss pulled in quite the pretty penny, but not near enough to cover what that prick took from me.”
What the hell is he talking about?
“We never discussed an exact amount,” I say it to remind him, but it almost sounds like I’m reminding myself. He didn’t give specifics before. Just said that he wanted to give Tommy a taste of his own medicine and that’s what we did.
He bet on the other guy, and I lost the match so he could take the money and have the satisfaction that he got one over on a guy who he thinks betrayed him.
I take a demanding step forward. “You wanted me to lose the fight so you could win. That’s exactly what I fucking did.”
Clyde chuckles, but this isn’t funny like he thinks it is. He’s looking at me like I’m one big bonehead. He just wanted to walk away with a couple hundred dollars in his pocket and the gratification that he could pull a fast one on me. That’s exactly what the fuck this is. He never planned on giving me the house.
I run a hand over my jaw and grip at the back of my neck.
“You were never going to give it to me,” I mutter, even though he shook on it. I put my palm in his, and we fucking shook . I lift my chin to the man who has single-handedly taken from me while lurking in the shadows. First Mom, and now this? Why did I think he’d stay true to his word?
Clyde Lincoln is nothing but a snake. An incarnate of the devil himself. A man with not blood pumping through his veins but pure greed.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he planned having those guys out there for a reason. Because he wasn’t sure how I’d react, but if I blew a gasket, he’d have them to reel me in and do who the fuck knows what to me.
“You motherfucker,” I growl, a snarl curving my lips. His dark eyes mimic mine as he stands there smoking his cigarette. Like it’s no big deal that he took advantage of me. That he used my emotions to manipulate me. He dangled the house in front of me and now he’s ripping it away. Again.
The last I have of her, he’s taking, and he thinks it’s a joke.
“If you ask me, I was surprised you actually thought I was serious. Part of me was hopeful I’d have one smart kid out there. Turns out you’re no better than the other one.” That’s how he refers to Finn? As the other one? Jesus. “You stand there with your shoulders thrown back like you have a goddamn idea, but you’re as fucking clueless as he is.”
A cloud of smoke puffs out of his mouth. “You think I give two shits about you being sad over Janie caring more about being high than getting straight? You think I give a flying fuck that you want her house? Newsflash, boy, the only way to get to the top of the mountain is to step on the heads of everyone below you.”
I swallow down the chaos of emotion climbing my throat. Not only did he manipulate my state of mind, but he screwed me where Tommy is concerned. My only saving grace is hoping Tommy never notices that I threw my fight for the hell of it.
Most of all, I hate how flawed Clyde’s perception is, and as wrecked as I am over being stupid enough to believe him… “I feel sorry for you.”
He chuckles as if he's heard worse insults. I’m sure he has. He’s a giant fucking prick wrapped in shit-flavored bacon. But today, he’s not going to get the best of me. I’ve been living as if the only thing that matters is what Mom left behind, including the grief she left me with. I’ve been out of control and pushing away the people who have made permanent residency in my heart and for what? To surround myself with people like this?
To have this realization fall over me as I stand in front of my biological piece-of-shit father is almost comical. He’s a reflection of a man I could become but don’t want to be. He’s someone I will look at and always pity because he never found a way to pull himself out of the water. He has burned so many bridges that he has no choice but to choke on the sea that surrounds him.
But that’s not me.
Fuck, it’s not me.
I have buoys out there; lifeguards and lifejackets and an entire search and rescue team willing to reel me in and bring me back to life.
The expression on his face morphs into a man without a heart. I’m not sure why I ever thought a pulse existed inside of him. “You got a day to get your shit out before my men out there move in and make it theirs.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I snark, shaking my head at him like the pathetic waste I’ve always known him to be. I turn for the door, because it’s not worth my energy to fight with him. I’m over it. All of it. If I’m going to put energy into anyone at this point, it isn’t going to be for a Lincoln. What I want most is to find my way back to Violet. Back to a time in my life where I was trying to figure out who the hell it was I wanted to be. The kind of man I wanted to grow into and forge.
A replica of my father is not a version of me worthy of Violet’s love.
A replica of my father is not who I want or deserve to be.
The anger that used to come over me at the thought of him vanishes as I make it out to my car. It catches on the breeze, riding it down the block as I start my engine and make the decision to never come back to this house or drive down the street it sits on again.