Page 21 of True North

How on earth he can keep track of anything in his alcohol-induced hazy days is beyond me.

“Fill it up on the way home, will ya?” I ask.

“You run it dry again?!” he hollers.

Knew that was a bad idea the second the words left my mouth. Ma stares at me. I stare at her for a heartbeat before dragging my attention back to the man who’s supposed to be my loving father figure.

“Yeah, while I was busy makin’ a living and keeping a roof over your sorry ass.”

He jolts from the chair, unsteady as usual.

“Harry,” Ma whispers, shaking her head.

She wants me to keep quiet. Let things go. Let it be.

I’m done with his bullshit.

So, I stand and fold my arms over my chest. I’m bigger, taller, and not riddled with the aftereffects of the drink.

“You think you’re some big rancher now, do ya? Couldn’t make a rag out of cut cloth. Go ahead, brag all you want. I bought this land. Started this family!”

“And drove it into the goddamn ground when you lost interest.” My words are guttural, harsh. “Go to town, take your fill. The only thing you’re good for is holdin’ down a bed, anyway.”

He takes a swing at me, and I lean back as he stumbles forward and crashes into the china cabinet.

With a little luck, the truck won’t make it home.

It’s when I turn back that I realize my mistake. Tears stream down Ma’s face as her gaze is stuck on her shaking hands between her plate and the edge of the table.

Fuck.

She’s probably thinking he’s gonna take this out on her when he gets back. That somehow, it’s her fault I ran my mouth.

The old mongrel deserves more than the railin’ I give him. But that’s not a luxury I can afford when the consequences affect the only person I have left in my life.

Louisa’s smile springs to mind with that thought.

I push it away.

Nope, still down to one person. It doesn’t matter how much my stupid damn heart still aches for Louisa, she’s not mine. Most likely never will be.

What woman in their right mind would volunteer to be part of a family like this?

“Not wastin’ my time here with you two ungrateful ingrates,” the old man says, swiping up the truck keys from the hook by the door and pushing through the front door. The engine roars and gravel flings at the house as I look to Ma. “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head again. This time, she looks up and tries to force a wobbly smile. I wish she wouldn’t bother tryin’ to protect me anymore; that role has definitely flipped between us. And I will put myself between her and that monster any day of the week.

“If I—” She pulls in a ragged breath and tries to compose herself. “I would give you a different life if I could, my boy.”

My nostrils flare, tears burning the back of my eyes. I know she would.

She tries to every day.

Berating herself.

Being submissive to him to keep the fuckin’ peace.

All for me.

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