Page 93 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

There it is…the door shutting in my face again. It’s the same damn thing every time, but now, I’m keenly aware of just how much of a toll it takes on me. And that maybe I don’t have to participate. Maybe it’s not my job to keep this pretend, fragile peace.

I left a home full of people who love each other and who were willing to let me inside their circle tonight, to come here and boost the pride of this pathetic man who is never going to love me back like I deserve. The problem is, I want my mom to be happy and safe, but if she doesn’t want those things for herself too, I can only help so much.

With courage I’ve never experienced in this house before now, I know what it’s time to do.

I look toward my dad. “But see, that’s part of the problem. I’ve learned never to accept your help even if I need it, because it always comes with strings.”

My dad suddenly stands up from the table to tower over us. “Do you have a problem with me, Jack? Quit pissing around and say it if you do.”

My gut instinct is to shrink away. Take back what I said until his temper subsides. But I remind myself that I’m not a kid anymore. He has no power over me. So I stand too. Eye to eye. “Yes. I do have a problem with you, and I wish I’d told you sooner. The only reason I have held back all these years is for Mom. I can live with you not loving me. I can live with you being a self-centered asshole for ninety percent of my life. But I love Mom—and she deserves more than what you give her. And if you get nothing else out of what I say tonight, I hope you at least hear this: Treat her better.”

Sadly, I know this won’t sink in to my dad’s brain because nothing has in the past. He’ll reshape the narrative somehow to come out in his favor. To pin him as the victim of tonight’s events rather than the reason this is all happening. This speech isn’t so much for him as it is so my mom can hear someone fight for her. So she can hear out loud in his presence that she is worthy of more than this. That we both are.

“Get out of my house,” Fredrick says, his face turning red. “I won’t be treated like this in my own home. Not after I raised you with every comfort you could ever want. Not when I have been nothing but faithful and devoted to my wife. I won’t listen to this childish tantrum of yours.” The wife in question is currently sunk back into her seat, dabbing the streams of tears falling from her eyes, afraid to speak up on either side. I hate that I’m putting her through this, but I don’t see a different way anymore.

I make sure his eyes are connected with mine when I say, “Okay,I’ll leave. But I’m not going to be coming back.” And that’s it—I don’t give him an explanation because he will only twist it or argue with it if I do. I only said it out loud for myself.

“I can’t believe how ungrateful you are.” He hitches his head to the door. “Go.”

I should leave without another word. But high off adrenaline from finally telling him what I’ve wanted to say for years, I decide to stop hiding. “By the way, you’re wrong. I didn’t need your connections. I was able to write a bestselling series on my own. And when my fourth book comes out next year and you watch it top the charts—I want you to know that AJ Ranger did it without using your fucking name.”

His eyes register shock and I’m sure later I’ll regret telling him who I am in this dramatic way, but right now, it feels great.

“Get. The. Hell. Out.”

I do. I grab my keys from the table, and I walk out of his house feeling proud and lighter for the first time.

I’m almost to my car when my mom’s voice calls out, “Jack! Wait.” She rushes up to me and wraps me in a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers through tears and cracked emotions. “I had no idea you were…well, it doesn’t surprise me actually. You’ve always been so bright and imaginative. I’m so happy to know you’re a writer.”

She pulls away and wipes a tear from her face. “And I’m so sorry I’ve been pulling you back inside that house all these years. I didn’t realize…I should have realized that it was hurting you, but I’ve been selfish. I’m so so—”

“Mom,” I say, gently holding her shoulders. “It’s okay. I love you, and I wish I could keep being here for you, but I just can’t. You don’t have to stay with him, though. You can leave. My house and my town are always open to you. Go pack a bag right now and you can ride back with me.”

I wish I could see her fighting, but there’s not even a warhappening behind her eyes—just resignation. It kills me. And this is when I realize that even this relationship hasn’t been healthy. I’ve carried too much of her burdens.

She pats my face. “I can’t leave him yet, Jack. He needs me. And maybe…maybe after all this he’ll see he needs some help and he’ll talk to someone.”

Maybe…

But not likely.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m proud of you, and I understand why you can’t come home anymore.”

My eyes are burning and my jaw hurts. I lean down and kiss my mom’s cheek. “I love you, Mom. Don’t forget my door is always open for you. And I’ll see you soon.”

—

I can’t bring myself to go to the inn yet and risk running into anyone from the town when I feel like this, so I drive to my house with the hope that I’ll find that my AC has been fixed and I can sleep there tonight.

When I pull into my driveway, my body is in fight or flight. Most everyone who has grown up with a parent like mine knows that after a situation where you put yourself forward and speak your truth, there is always a reeling discomfort in its wake. Like I want to run as fast as I can but also hide in a dark hole at the same time. I’m at war with wondering if I truly stood up for myself or if I just taunted him. Is it a moment I should be proud of or was I really just throwing a tantrum like he said?

This is what he does. He gets in my head and disrupts my sense of self until I’m all turned around and dizzy.

I get out of my SUV, slamming the door a little too hard behind me. I think I’ll get on my bike. I think I’ll run it hard all night until I end up somewhere out of gas and far far—

“Long night?” Emily’s voice washes over me like a cleansing wave.

I turn and squint in the dark until I see her in her driveway, sitting in the bed of her truck, leaned back against the cab. I should probably go inside right now. Should probably not face her while I’m so unstable. But I can’t keep my feet from crunching over the gravel and grass to get to her. My entire body is dragging me to her like it knows she is safety.

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