32. Hayden
Chapter thirty-two
Hayden
It was all fun and games back at the bar, but the severity of our conversation came crashing down on my shoulders after calling and taking an Uber back to my house.
As for my car, I knew I’d get a fine of some sort for leaving it in the country club’s parking lot. But any amount of money was better than getting an “Operating while Intoxicated” and already failing to be a parent on that front.
I’m a parent. I’m a freaking parent . The thoughts played in a circular fashion in my mind. I don’t know the first thing about being a parent. For one thing, I never had a great example of how to be a father. So, how will I know how to be one?
However, I also reason that at the same time, that I’ve done an okay job so far, discounting the time I freaked out on her over the spilled desert. Other than that, I’ve been able to bond with her just fine.
Ugh. My brain aches as it churns through all the questions. But on the top of my list is: Am I too afraid to even try?
I could never live with myself if I broke Luna’s little, fragile heart. However, in the same breath, not trying would probably also disappoint her.
I curse my poorly thought-out decisions and intoxicated state as I enter the shower and crank the lever all the way to max.
But even the scalding water doesn’t help. I’m still jittery as fuck. Furthermore, it also brings about memories of the burning lashes my father used to inflict upon me when I gave him a “dirty look.”
“Fuck!” My wounded mind feels more tortured than ever.
You’d never do that to Luna, Hayden. I remind myself while in the fetal position on my bathroom floor. You’d never, ever strike her flesh or inflict those wounds. Of course, not. Picturing her tormented screams makes me want to puke, and I realize just how evil my father was for being able to stomach it when he actually hurt me.
Then, something else hits me—if you can’t beat them, join them. In this sense, I mean pouring myself a nice glass of whiskey. So, I get up, compose myself to the best of my ability, finish my shower, and head downstairs to the kitchen.
I take one sip before the phone on the counter rings.
Oh, sweet Jesus. If anything could get me out of this funk, I know Addie’s beautiful face could. Grabbing it with hope in my heart, I flip it over but see Noah’s name across the screen instead.
Fuck. I was just with him, so I assumed the worst. But he told me he was also getting a ride home. He wouldn’t be that stupid.
Hesitantly, I answer. “Noah, are you okay?”
The silence on the other end of the line is deafening.
“Noah? Hello?”
“Hayden,” he chirks out.
“Yes, I’m here. What’s going on? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you? I can order an Uber—”
I hear an exaggerated sniffle. “No, it isn’t that.” Like he was back at the bar, he’s slurring his words a little.
My heart is either pounding or falling into my stomach, I can’t discern with one. But either way, it doesn’t feel right.
“I . . . I screwed up, baby bro.”
My brow furrows. “Okay. Well, whatever it is, we can get through it together.” We made that pact when we were kids. I’d be damned if I broke it now.
“You say that now, but I promise you won’t feel that way once I tell you the truth.”
Now, I’m even more confused than ever.
“Noah, tell me what’s going on. Now.”
“I robbed you of your happiness, Hayden. I took it from you. I stole any chance you had to build a future with the woman of your dreams. And in doing so, she removed your ability to be a father to little Luna.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” I run a few scenarios in my mind, but none of them come close to explaining how he would be responsible for how things turned out for me and Addie in the past.
“I’m the one who leaked the story about Dad and his mistress,” he finally admits.
Oh, my God. I was wrong. It’s even worse than I thought.
“I am to blame for our father’s heart attack. It’s my fault, Noah.”
Jesus. He’s so piss drunk that he’s referring to me by his own name now.
When I fail to respond, he says, “Well? Say something. Anything. Please—”
With my jaw clamped shut, I mumble, “What do you expect me to say, Noah?” I exaggerate his name in the hope of him realizing how stupid he’s being.
“I—”
Before he can mutter another word, I end the call and throw my phone across the room. There’s a soft couch to break its fall, so I know it isn’t broken. But still, the distance is enough to put in between me and Noah for the time being. I don’t even want to know if he calls again.
I can’t fucking believe him. Yes, he had just as much of a reason to hate our father as I did, but this? This? It was diabolical and borderline murder. Finishing my first glass, I pour some more of the brown liquid in and scarf it down. My whole body is so numb that it doesn’t even sting my throat on the way down.
And then there is the Addie of it all. Noah may have been to blame, but he didn’t force me to hurt her. No, it was all on me for choosing to break her heart the way I did.
She was innocent all this time, and I never for a second believed her.
I’ll never forget the hurt that flashed in her eyes that night after I accused her of leaking the story. The image still haunts me to this day.
I also unleashed an animal I didn’t know existed in me that same night. The way I was berating and yelling at her reminded me of the man I hated most—my father.
No matter what she said through her tears, I wouldn’t have any of it. My anger just took over and controlled every output of my body, so far as my words, my posture, and everything else. Honestly, it kind of felt like he possessed me. Someway and somehow, his spirit found a detour on its way to heaven or hell. The jury is still out on that one, but it inhabited inside of me.
That’s also kind of how I felt on the night that I yelled at Luna. Sure, I was frustrated with work, and she was being a little annoying, but nothing warranted my response. Nothing.
The idea that I shared the old man’s DNA was already bad enough. But actually having his spirit live on inside of me? That was a hard pass.
Soon, however, some of his favorite words started ringing true: You’re a failure. And I’ll never amount to anything more than that.
***
As the night continues to grow darker, so does my inner dialogue.
I’m now hunched over in my office and clinging to the whiskey like I am a baby who needs his milk. It’s disgusting and pathetic. I know it. But that’s all I am. Disgusting and pathetic.
You’re a failure, Hayden. A failure. The words are haunting me like a relentless ghost. And try as I may to get them out of my head, they only get louder with each turn.
However, as time passes, the evil inside of me seems to only grow. With each hour that goes by, I feel more and more like I’m turning into my father again. I even avoid mirrors in fear that I look just like him now—with his wrinkled face and judgmental eyes.
“God damn it!” I eventually throw the bottle on the ground in frustration. When it bounces back, I relish in the slivers of pain the small shards leave on my skin.
Soon after, the worst possible thing happens. The doorbell rings, and when I check the camera, I see that it’s Addie. She’s looking cute with her hair down and in a denim jacket. But I can’t face her. So I freeze in place and hope she can’t see my shadow in the window.
But she won’t let up.
“Hayden? Are you in there? Denton, your friend, he called me. I guess he got my number from your phone when you were in the bathroom earlier at the club. He said you could use a friend right now. Anyway, Luna is staying at Paige’s house for the night, so I thought I’d pop over and make sure you’re okay. Please let me in.”
“Just leave me alone,” I beg silently. Please.
Despite these wishes, my eyesight has since gone blurry, and I apparently hit the “open” button on accident.
“Thank you.”
“Fuck!” After watching her walk in, I look around the room for anywhere to hide. But she finds me before I make my choice.
“Oh, my God! Hayden!” Her entrance causes a small sliver of light to pool into the otherwise darkened room. “You’re bleeding. What happened?”
The last thing I want or deserve is for her to nurse me back to help. So, I resist. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
She takes my palms into her hands. “Nothing my ass. Hold tight. I have a first aid kit in my car.” She disappears for a few minutes, but then comes back with a small, plastic container under her arm.
When she grabs my hand again, I go to move away, but her grasp is firm and unrelenting.
“Now, please try to hold still. This is going to hurt.”
After that, she unscrews the cap of a bottle with her teeth, and then I wince as she pours it over my wounds. She was right, it stings like a bitch.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I had to make sure the wounds are all cleaned out. It’s over now. Just let me bandage you up.”
Her touch is then soft and motherly. Usually, I’d relish this careful attention from her, but right now, it feels wrong. So, so wrong.
When she’s finished tidying me up, she asks where the broom is, but I can’t find the words to tell her.
“Okay. That’s fine. I’m sure I can manage.”
Moments later, she comes back with the wooden broom in one hand and the dustpan in the other.
Then, she carefully sweeps up all the shards. And while doing so, she is nothing but empathetic and kind to me.
“Why are you being so nice?” I ask with a huff, slinking down onto a hard leather couch nearby.
“What do you mean?” she stops what she’s doing and peers over at me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I blow raspberries into the air. “Because I don’t deserve it, don’t you see?”
“Hayden.” She walks closer to me and tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but I dodge her touch.
“Please,” I beg, the monster within me seconds away from exploding. “Please just leave.”
“Hayd—”
By that point, it’s too late, and I shriek, “Get the fuck out of my house! Now!”