Chapter Eight – Rory
“Dad!”
Slamming the door shut, Rory raced down the hallway, pretending the silence didn’t weigh him down.
He was used to someone being home. If not Mom or Dad, then Ella, taking care of Blade.
It wasn’t even eleven in the morning yet, but Rory hadn’t been able to sleep, so he’d gotten up and went in the kitchen for cereal.
JJ was already at the breakfast bar, chomping a pop tart, as miserable as Rory.
He’d invited him to go with him to Ryan’s, but he’d declined.
Instead, he’d gone in the opposite direction, walking deeper into the forest.
“JJ?” His little brother didn’t answer, so Rory figured he hadn’t returned yet. He’d search for him after he spoke to their father about Molly. “Dad!”
Rory peeped in the library, then the kitchen, the dining room, and finally the den.
Those were the main rooms on the first floor that Dad frequented in their house.
Since he hadn’t found his father, Rory booked it up the stairs, thinking Dad was in the master bedroom.
But nope. Not the bathroom or the closets either.
Standing in the middle of the central hallway, Rory called, “Dad?” and listened.
“In here, son,” a faint voice responded.
Frowning, Rory hurried to the small room at the far end of the hallway and opened the door, finding his father laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He’d removed the bandages from his damaged hand and it rested on his stomach. Two of his fingers were mangled stumps.
“Are you…are you okay?”
“Is your mother home?”
“No, but—”
“There’s your fucking answer.”
Rory stiffened. He’d just spent a fucking hour defending him to Ryan and Devon. “Dad, I need to talk to you.”
“Is it about your mother?”
“No, but—”
“Then save your fucking breath.”
“Mattie and Blade are gone, too.”
“Kendall took them, so what’s your point?”
“Nothing, Dad.”
He blinked at the ceiling, still not looking in Rory’s direction.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say. Your mother left me after humiliating me with Christopher. She doesn’t care that I’m injured. She doesn’t care that my grandfather was a sick old fuckhead.”
“Only you care about that,” Rory snapped. “And only you missed that fucking memo. He’s responsible for a lot, including the suicide of Mom’s sister.”
“Prepare yourself, son. Your aunt and your grandmother fucked themselves up. It’s only a matter of time before Kendall kills herself.”
Tears rushed to Rory’s eyes that his father could so callously discuss Mom hurting herself. But he didn’t want Ryan and Devon to be right. He wanted his father to rise to the occasion. He forced his tears away and glared at Dad. “Are you doing anything to protect her from herself?”
“That isn’t my fucking job. It’s Christopher’s.”
“He’d do a fucking better job than you.”
Dad sprung from the bed and charged Rory, but he was tired, heartsore, betrayed and sick of his father. He raised his fists.
“Put your goddamn hands down.”
“Then step the fuck back, Dad. I don’t want to fight you, but I’m not allowing you to fuck over me. I sacrificed a lot for you. I trusted you with that letter and you fucked everything up.”
“Sacrificed? You ungrateful fucking wretch. You don’t know what sacrifice is.”
“And you do?”
Dad shrugged.
“That’s a fucking no, in case you don’t know the answer. What did you ever sacrifice? In spite of everything, you lived a charmed life. You fucked it up.”
Dad backed away and sat on the bed, so Rory lowered his fists.
“If I spoke to my grandfather the way you talked to me, he would’ve punched the fuck out of me,” Dad sneered.
“Lies, and you know it. Logan didn’t give a fuck what you did.”
“Were you there? I might be the fucking monument of truth.”
“In your motherfucking dreams, you delusional motherfucker.”
Fury raced across Dad’s face. Rory thought sure he’d take a swing at him.
“Oh, I’m not hitting you. I don’t trust Kendall not to poison me if she ever finds out, but I will find a way to repay your disrespect, fuckhead.”
“I’m sure, since you’re such a sneaky asshole.”
“Sometimes, I wish you’d never been born.”
The words pierced Rory to his soul. Of all the things his father could’ve said, he never expected those words. On the other hand, he should have.
“Because Aunt Meggie didn’t give birth to me, right, fuckhead? Or because CJ should’ve been yours?”
Regret flickered across his face, a rare emotion from a man who was the architect of so much pain. “I’m sorry, Rory. I didn’t mean that. I love you, but I don’t know you anymore.”
“I can say the same about you, Dad. You’ve been on a fucking rampage for months. You’re destroying everything and you refuse to make it right.”
“Blame your mother.”
“I’m blaming you. Stop fucking deflecting all your fucking bullshit on everyone else! You wish I’d never been born? I wish you weren’t my father, so fuck you.”
Rory was even angrier because of what he’d just gone through with his cousins. He’d sincerely believed Dad would see this as an opportunity to right a wrong, so that when Mom returned, he could tell her about his good deed.
“I betrayed the club to cover for you,” Rory said, pain streaking through him.
“Do you want a fucking award for being a good son?”
“The only reward I want is to have a good father. A man worthy of my mother.”
“Kendall couldn’t survive without me.”
“Mom would fucking thrive without you,” Rory sneered. “She’s a good mother, a loyal friend, and a brilliant attorney. She’s also a beautiful woman who’s wasting her fucking life on a motherfucker who can’t even rescue a girl from Bash.”
Dad’s gaze flew to his. “This fucking temper tantrum is about Molly Harris?”
“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking out of touch with reality.”
“I don’t have any sway over Bash. Molly’s probably dead anyway, so why should I waste my time? Ryan is the reason she’s gone. Let him choke on his fucking guilt.”
“You want to be the hero. Here’s your chance.”
“For that brainless child? No. I want to be Kendall’s hero. Megan’s. I want them to see me as they see Christopher.”
“It’s the same old tired song with you,” Rory said dully, his heart cracking open. If his mother didn’t return, he’d run away. He’d never survive with his father. Hopefully, JJ would want to go with him. Even better would be Mom walking into the house and telling him she loved him.
Rory thumbed away a stray tear, hating the superior gleam in his father’s eyes.
“There’s more than one way to be a hero, Dad.
Once, you were like a superhero to me. You did no wrong in my eyes.
I wanted to be you. Or a version of you that would make you proud.
Now, you’re nothing but a piece of shit.
When I flush you out of my life, I hope you drown in sewer scum, right the fuck where you belong. ”
Ignoring his father’s shock, Rory turned and walked out of the room, then slammed the door behind him. He wouldn’t call Ryan with an update.
I told you so was the worse fucking statement in the English language, and Rory wasn’t interested in hearing it.