Page 104 of Whiskey Throttle
I take a breath.
“I feel courage in mine. Because I’m not.”
A long silence stretches between us. Hollister’s still frozen in place. His mouth parts. His eyes widen. As if he blinks or even moves, he might break the spell.
Dominic tips his chin down. His voice, when it comes again, is barely audible.
“I feel hurt when I love.”
My hand curls over the edge of the chair, crushing the wood under my grip. Like Hollister, I don’t dare move. Scarcely breathe. He doesn’t look up again, but he doesn’t need to. That statement says everything.
“I feel sorrow for everything.”
His head darts up, fast and sharp. I freeze, wondering if I ruined it. Wondering if I broke one of the many rules around this lexicon. My mind races through the past, trying to recall the exact therapist’s office we had to go to for this.
“Do you mean that? You’re not just saying that as a part of the lexicon?”
The plea in his voice and the angst on his face say it all. That beautiful, brilliant boy surges forward. Past years of bitterness chiseled from the hardness of life and its disappointments.
“I do.”
“What part? What brings you sorrow?”
He moves forward, almost out of his seat, and is hanging on every word, relinquishing his power to me. I could wield a sword that could forge our relationship in steel forever. Or if I say the wrong thing, I could sever it for good.
“Not loving you like I should have,” I start slowly.
My mind flashes between the grown man with a shadowy beard who curses far too much and the little boy who would sit at my feet when I got ready for charity events, counting the hours we would be apart.
“How should you have loved me?”
I sigh, lips pressed together, tears shimmering in my lower lids.
“With everything. Despite everything. I was so young, I didn’t know how to take care of a baby.”
Tears careen down my cheeks, and Hollister moves to give me a handkerchief from his pocket. His hand crosses in front of Dom’s face, who barely flinches. I dab my cheeks and continue.
“But you looked just like me. Dark hair, dark eyes, and I thought this was my own little baby. Someone I could love and protect, no matter what. But life got in the way. Your father, his expectations, my failures. I let them all come between us. I let them define how I loved you, and that was wrong. I should have loved you fiercely, with all my heart, despite the chaos around us.”
A sob escapes my throat as I recall the early days of his life. How overwhelmed I was. How I looked to my ex for help, but he gave none. Only emotional manipulation.
“But I didn’t know how. I didn’t have the tools, the wisdom, or the support. I was drowning, and I took you down with me.”
Dominic’s eyes glisten, and he clears his throat. Shaking his head as if in my head, traveling down the memories with me.
“I thought I finally had everything figured out. Had something that worked for us. Then your sister came along, and the overwhelm started all over again. Even with help, I had a hard time managing both of you. She demanded as much time as you did. As you got older, it only got worse. This rivalry formed. Everyone I knew said it was a silly thing. But since I’m an only child, I didn’t understand it. Couldn’t handle it.”
The tension seems so stifling, absolutely sucking the life out of the room. Taking all three of us down into that darkness. I look at Hollister, wanting to say I’m sorry for all this, but his eyes are on Dom, tears streaming down his face.
“That’s when the bullshit started.”
The harshness is back.
Raw, pure pain exposed to the naked truth. I wouldn’t blame him for hating me. I’ve hated myself for years over how everything transpired.
“Yes. I sought help for myself. I couldn’t get out of bed. Violette was off with her nanny, but you wouldn’t go with yours. You’d sit and cry at my bedroom door, wailing for me.”
“You shut me out.”
