Page 80 of Blood
And just like that, he’s gone, along with whatever we had.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Kaleb
I sit in the car for a few more minutes. It’s been a long fucking day.
How did things get so out of control?
We’d been happy this morning, and now everything was fucked up. Shelby’s in the hospital, and Sam’s back to ignoring me.
Mom and Dad’s car sits next to mine in the drive.
I never imagined being in front of this cabin and feeling this much dread again, but here we are. I can’t stay out here forever.
When I walk in, the ground floor is dim, light spilling out from the kitchen.
I follow it like a moth to a flame.
Dad sits alone at the kitchen table.
“She told you.” It’s not a question. I can see it written all over his face.
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a small town. We knew before she came back.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs. Lying with your mother, she’s sobbing her heart out.” His throat bobs. “Kaleb.” He shakes his head, at a loss for words.
But he doesn’t have to say them. I can’t bear to hear them anyway.
Pulling out a chair, I sit opposite him. My whole body shakes, and I bite the bullet.
“I’d like to keep your surname. Please?” I beg, looking down at the wood beneath my shaking hands. “I can’t stand the thought of taking that whore’s name again,” I whisper. I don’t look up at Christopher as I keep talking. “I’ll make sure Sam texts Helen every day. Every day,” I promise with a nod. “And she’ll be here every Sunday, without fail.” A tear drops onto the table. “But she’s not sleeping over every weekend. Maybe once a month.”
Silence fills the kitchen. The stillness is interrupted by my odd sniffle. Wiping my cheek, I take a deep breath.
Now or never.
Looking up, I meet the eyes of the best man I know.
The silence eats at what is left of my soul.
Reaching out, Christopher wraps his hand around the nape of my neck. Using his grip, he pulls me closer. I don’t resist. “You listen to me. You are now and always will be Kaleb Cromwell. A smart-ass, funny, energetic, loving, hardworking, cheeky little shit. My youngest son. A Cromwell.”
My chin trembles at his words.
“The day you changed your surname sits up there as one of the best days of my life, sharing a spot with the day we adopted your brothers and the day your sis—” Dad cuts himself off, pausing before he corrects his words. “The day that Samantha was born and the day you moved in. Topped only by the day I married your mother. You will always be welcome in this house,Kaleb, because you’re family. My son,” he says, stressing the last two words.
I’m openly crying. Dad leans forward, resting his forehead on mine.
“My son,” he repeats in a whisper. “My favorite.” He smirks.
I laugh at his words, snotty and breathy. We all know Samantha is his favorite, a spot earned by being the only girl. But I don’t voice that.
Dad gives his own sniffle, pulling back. “Don’t break her heart, Kaleb,” he pleads.
“I won’t,” I promise, shaking my head. “I’m going to marry her,” I vow, looking him in the eye. “I’ll always take care of her.”
