Page 15 of Hate So Deep

Colt glares at me from the other corner, his arm around Finn. I feel my right eye twitch when Cat slides under Dirk’s arm and snuggles against his chest.

I need a fucking moment to process everything but of course, no one cares about my feelings when Celia says, “Lala dear, your dad set aside some of your ornaments. Do you want to put them on the tree?”

Turning away from where I was glaring out the window, I stare at her fingers, clutching a flat box which I recognize from home. How did she get that?

Reluctantly, I take the box from her hand and open the lid, spying two of the completely hideous ornaments I made for Dad, carefully constructed from papier mâché and glue but the one in the middle is what catches my eye.

It’s not mine. One Christmas a bazillion years ago, Buck saw it in a shop. He begged and begged until Mom finally gave in, buying the ornament.

Back then, he wanted so badly to learn how to play the guitar, but Mom said no, and Dad said nothing.

Pulling the guitar from the box, I hold it up to the light. This is a testament to just how little Dad knew about us because he must have picked this from the dozens of others now packed away somewhere, assuming it was mine.

My veins heat with my rage, and fighting off a surge of lightheadedness, I clench the ornament between my fingers, smiling when the orb bursts in my hand.

“Oh my,” Celia says, as I give in to the wicked burn circling my soul and hang the now broken ornament on the tree.

A hush falls across the room when I step back to admire my handiwork before Dad barks, “Lauren! What is wrong with you?”

Curling my bloody fingers into my palm I meet his stern gaze and raise my chin. His sigh does nothing but ratchet my rage as I glance around, meeting Finn’s wide-eyed stare before moving to Colt’s scowl.

Cat merely drops her gaze and when I turn to Dirk, he raises his brows.

Sensing the censure behind his gaze, I walk from the room and down the hall before stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind me.

After which, I stare at my reflection and the hard pools of loathing, staring back at me.

I’m angry, but at whom? Them or me?

After the fiasco in the living room, I sit out the rest of the tree decorating but concede when Dad encourages me to watch a movie after dinner.

Dirk is still here, and I can’t figure out why, but I’ve given him and everyone else in this fucking place the cold shoulder since I sat down on the couch.

What was once one of my favorite movies is lost on me while I stare at the screen blindly.

Eventually, Dad leaves with his other wife and my eyes burn when he wraps his hand around her waist and kisses her forehead.

Celia smiles at him before they’re gone from my view, and I turn back to the television.

Does he miss Buck? Is any part of him sad about leaving my mom? Or are they erased? Like me?

The images emblazoned on my brain evaporate when Colt presses pause on the remote and turns to me with a wintry gaze.

I recognize the same damn look from my dad’s stern lectures and wrap my arms around my middle, bracing myself for the onslaught.

Of course, he doesn’t disappoint and drilling me with his stare, he barks, “What’s your problem?”

“Colt,” Finn says but he shrugs her off while Cat sinks into her seat.

I don’t move though because I can’t afford to show weakness. Not with him…not with any of them.

“Well?” he growls, and I suck in a breath.

“Colt,” Dirk says but Colt waves his hand.

Frozen, I can only stare while Colt sneers, “Listen you little brat, my mom has gone out of her way to make this right for you–”

“Right?” I sneer, shoving the blanket from my shoulders. “How is any of thisright?”

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