Page 60 of Fighting Shadows

“You okay?” he asks me.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “It’s been a long week of being home, and everything still feels like a lot. I think we need to talk, though.”

“I guess we do,” he says, dragging his office chair over, the wheels dragging across the carpet, “I’m sorry.”

He says it so quickly I almost cringe.

I wanted nothing more than to hear those words from him before when he kept fucking up and pushing me away because I wasn’t what he was expecting.

It made me feel small like I was a letdown for being messed up from everything Jane did and like I was never going to be good enough for him. Then I found out about everything from the past, him finding me and never coming for me, knowing about the abuse, and never stopping it because Jane was convincing enough that she made me the problem.

“Are you?” I ask, “Because you made me feel like shit for the last year. You told me I had to get over Chloe being dead. You acted like I was fucked in the head for not being happy and normal after everything I went through. Yet, you had the audacity, even after the meeting with my therapist, to get drunk on vodka of all the fucking things and thenbegme to understand why you didn’t come for me. Do you not think I begged every day of my life for my dad to save me? When I came home, I was so desperate to feel your love and please you that I pushed down my mental health in an attempt to be someone you would be proud of, and then when I tried to kill myself, you disappeared, using the excuse that you wanted to be the one to find Jane. Ineededyou. I needed my dad, and you weren’t there.”

Angry tears come unbidden, making tracks down my cheeks. I didn’t want to cry, especially because I was furious and not upset, but I couldn’t take it anymore, and I knew I needed to get it all off of my chest before he bulldozed over me with an apology.

Tears gather in his eyes from my words, and it’s clear I’ve affected him.

“I am so sorry,” he says, sinking into the chair in front of me, “I was an asshole, and believe it or not, I think your boyfriend stabbing me shook me out of that. I was selfish, narcissistic, and awful to you. You deserve to grieve for Chloe. God knows I grieved for you every single day, and you weren’t dead. You were my world as a child, and I’m not sure when I lost sight of that, but I swear to you that I’m going to make it up to you. I’m going to be here for you in any way I can.”

I want to snark at him so badly, to tell him to shove his empty promises, but I can’t.

Maybe it’s the hopeful look in his eyes, or perhaps it’s because I want one parent to love me, but I nod my head.

“I can’t forgive you just yet. I need you to show up and be there for me. If you mess up again, I’m done, Dad. You’ll never see me again,” I tell him sternly.

I expected him to blow up at me like he had before, but he nodded his head solemnly, taking in my words.

“I understand, Little Monster. I’m letting your men take over the search for Charlie, and I’m giving them men and whatever resources they need. Your brother was quite insistent on the fact that I sit this one out, and even though every part of me wants to hunt him down and kill him for what he did to you, I won’t. I’ll wait until Dominic brings him in, and I’ll take my pound of flesh then.”

“Thank you,” I say because I don’t know what else to say to him.

I see no point in repeating ourselves until we’re bored of it. He’s apologized, and I’m giving him a chance to fix it; if he doesn’t, then I’m done.

My mental health has to come first, and waiting for him to be a good parent to me isn’t worth it if he doesn’t want to be.

Dad tells me that Brenn’s struggling, too. When he’s not with us, he hides in his room away from everyone.

Deciding that I may as well make it a three-for-three on the deep conversations, I leave Dad’s office and make my way to Brenn’s room.

There’s no sound coming from inside, and it’s so unlike him that my knock is a bit harder than I intended.

“Come in,” his gruff voice sounds.

When I open the door, my stomach lurches at the mess inside his room. Clothes are scattered over the floor, and his curtains are drawn shut, casting the room in total darkness.

“Jesus Brenn,” I mutter. Brenn scrambles from his bed, the covers tangling in his legs, “Stay where you are, you idiot; you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Why are you here?” he asks. “Did Dad call you? I told him I’ll be fine; I need some time alone.”

“I showed Noah Chlo’s grave and told him about her, and then I finally decided to talk with Dad. He only told me about you when I asked where you were.”

He runs his hand down his face, somehow looking more tired than I’ve ever seen him. The room stinks, too, so I can only imagine how bad he smells.

Not giving him any other choice, I make my way into his en suite bathroom, turn the shower on for him, and get a fresh towel from the cupboard under the sink. His bathroom matches his bedroom, and the colors are dark and comforting. I direct him into the bathroom with firm orders to wash the stink off thoroughly and then decide to freshen up his room.

It's obviously hard for him to do right now, so I start by opening his curtains, letting light into the room, and opening his windows to try to get rid of the musty smell that clings to the air.

After I finish stripping the bed, I replace the old sheets with new ones just as his shower turns off. I gather the clothes from the floor and take them down to Mrs. McKay for the laundry, hoping that it will be enough time for him to get into some fresh clothes.

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