Page 99 of Broken Promises

I let her tug me through to the kitchen, where Clint and Viktor Mathers were drinking. I wasn’t expecting to see Frank sitting at the counter with his eyes cast down, a black eye and a split lip.

“What happened to the kid?” I asked no one in particular, Viktor glancing over at me with a grunt.

“Little fucker wasn’t listening to me.”

Angry tears burned in Frank’s eyes as he silently looked up at me, telling me it wasn’t over something simple.

“What was the issue?”

“Thought he could tell me how to handle my daughter,” he rambled drunkenly, smacking his hand down on the table and making Frank clench his fists. “All she does is cry!”

“Starving, neglected babies will do that,” I answered flatly, making him sneer.

“She’s fine. Fed her myself last night.”

“Where is she then?” I almost didn’t want to ask.

“At home. Little bitch can cry all she likes there,” he shrugged, popping the top on a fresh beer. “Few more years and she’ll be useful. Until then, I don’t want to hear or see her.”

Rage filled my stomach, and I had him by the front of the shirt before he could blink. “She’s a fucking baby!”

“I didn’t say she was going to make me money right now, did I?” he snapped, trying to pull away, but he was too drunk. “Let me go, you little shit.”

“Reid!” Mom cried, grabbing my arm to try and protect her pig of a friend. “It’s not your business!”

“You all wonder why your kids fucking hate you, you spineless pieces of shit,” I laughed dryly, shaking Mom’s hold off. I had no problem punching Viktor in the face and dropping him on the floor like the sack of shit that he was.

“Reid!”

“No, Mom! Look around you! This isn’t a fucking life!” I shouted, her dramatic crying grating on my nerves. “You don’t think I should get involved with the fucking Mathers’ business? You think I should let this prick say sick things about a literalbaby? Look at Frank’s face! That’s from trying to protect her! No twelve-year-old kid should be put in that position!”

“He can deal with his children as he sees fit,” she said through tears, grabbing my arm again and digging her nails in.

I looked at her. Really fucking looked at her.

She was weak, she always had been, and the lack of slurring I’d noticed was quite obviously party pills or something from the way her pupils were blown.

She wasn’t sober, she just wasn't drunk today.

“I defended you every single time you let me down, you know? Made excuses to make myself feel better, and argued with my friends who talked badly about you, saying I was wasting my time trying to help you,” I spat, shaking her off again. “You might have given birth to me, but you’re a shitty fucking mother, and an even shittier human being for turning a blind eye to vulnerable kids.”

She gasped, her face burning red. “You’re embarrassing me!”

“Good! You’ve embarrassed me my entire life!” I threw back, kicking Viktor who was still lying on the ground drunkenly mumbling to himself. “Touch your kids again, and I’ll come back here and put a fucking bullet in your head.”

“You mouthy little cunt! You listen to your mother!” Clint shouted, apparently deciding his friend was worth standing up for, but Frank wasn’t.

No surprise there.

“Don’t you fucking start, old man,” I laughed flatly, pointing a finger at him. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago. Do you even give a shit that your son was killed? Or were you happy not to have another mouth to feed? Oh, wait. You weren’t fucking feeding him in the first place!”

“Get out of my house!” he bellowed, trying to throw an empty beer bottle at me but missed, the glass shattering as it hit the wall behind me.

“Gladly.” I turned to Mom, looking her right in the eye. “Don’t fucking call or text me. As far as you’re concerned, you don’t have a son. You’re dead to me. You should’ve been years ago.”

“Wait! You won’t leave me to starve, right? I need twenty dollars,” she begged, a sound of disgust leaving me.

“You didn’t want to see me, you just wanted fucking money?”

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