Page 32 of Dominate
“Vi did,” I reply, then move my eyes to Camden and Tanner. “Ask Vi how old she was when she was changing her baby brother’s nappies.”
“Stop, Gareth,” Camden begs softly, his eyes downcast as Indie reaches over and takes hold of his hand.
“She was four. Fucking four years old and barely strong enough to hold Booker in her arms let alone wipe his arse. And I was busy chasing you twins around the garden so you wouldn’t get too close to Dad and get us all in trouble, because all we had to do was look at Dad to piss him off back then.”
“Come now, Gareth,” Dad retorts. “Surely you can see I needed time.”
“Well, you got it! Years of it!” I exclaim, moving in toward him so we’re eye-to-eye. He winces at the volume of my voice but holds his ground. “Your grief started before Mum was even fucking dead, and none of them have a problem with it because they don’t remember how good it was before. Familywasthe most important thing as long as Mum was healthy.”
Dad exhales heavily and pins me with a pained stare. “Gareth, I’m sorry for my struggles with your mother’s illness, but that’s all in the past and I’d like to forget about it.”
“I can’t!” I cry out and jerk away from him like he’s just struck me with his fist across my face.
Vi leans forward in her chair, her eyes hurt and full of tears, but she’s frozen in place just like everyone else. I can feel my brothers reaching out to me with their minds, but they are unsure of what to do when solid, big brother Gareth has a fucking meltdown for a change.
I fork my hands through my hair, an ache radiating in my chest as I add, “Don’t you think I want nothing more than to forget how horrible you were to her? I do my best to forget about it every Sunday night because I get to hop back on a train and keep my distance. But now you want to come on this holiday and play happy family, and talk about Mum, and pretend that neglect and abuse never happened. That’s complete rubbish and you know it.”
“Gareth, that’s enough!” he roars, his eyes turning back into the harsh robot I’m far more familiar with.
“Dad, stop,” Tanner states in a deep, warning tone as he stands up and splays his hands out on the table. Belle stares up at him, surprised by this very rare display of gravity from Tanner. “If Gareth has something to say, I think we owe it to him to listen.”
Camden and Booker stand up in unison and Vi rises to her feet a few seconds later. All four of my siblings are now staring down our father with a united strength against him I’ve never truly seen before.
Pride.
Fucking magnanimous pride ripples through my entire body from their display of loyalty to me.
But it’s tainted because, even as they attempt to unite against him for me, I can see that they still love him. My siblings whom I raised love Dad unconditionally. Will that ever not hurt?
“I’ve said all I need to say,” I state and make a move to leave but stop myself to add one more very important thing. Perhaps the most important thing of all. “But, Dad, don’t you worry about Sloan. She’s strong as fuck and can do what she needs to do on her own. But you can guarantee that if she does need someone, I will drop everything and be there for her just like I was for Mum and just like I am for them.”
I point to my siblings and feel their eyes watching me with fear over what I might do next. And for a brief second, I feel myself turning into my father. Overbearing, intimidating, unrelenting. The same angry, resentful, monster he was for so many years.
But I can’t pretend this is all okay and normal. I refuse to watch him hold the woman I care about in his arms, as well as the family I’ve spent my entire life protecting, and act like he knows how to be there for them.
He doesn’t.
I do.
I always have.
“GARETH!”ISHOUT DOWN THEbeach, my voice muted by the waves crashing onto the shore.
A flash of lightning flickers off in the distance, lighting up the sky and Gareth’s silhouette. He’s standing a ways down the shore, waves lapping up toward his feet, his head bowed.
I pause to pull off my flip-flops and lift my dress to jog toward him. My heart thunders in my chest over everything that was said at dinner. All the pain from Gareth’s past rearing its head was horrible enough, but what he said about me? That proclamation of protection—that promise to be there for me—is overwhelming. With only a few words, I went from wanting to see how this week goes toneedingto be the person in Gareth’s life. This isn’t casual anymore. Never mind the media, and the fame, and the fear. Gareth is not the kind of man you run from. He’s the kind you chase.
I yell his name again and the wind finally carries my voice to him. His head snaps in my direction. A storm brews in the distance, perfectly matching the storm in his eyes as he turns on his heel to face me.
“I’m sorry, Sloan,” he states sadly, pursing his lips together as I stand in front of him and fight to catch my breath. “I had to get out of there before I ripped someone’s fucking head off.”
I drop my sandals and reach out to touch his hand that’s stuffed inside his pocket, but he pulls away. “Gareth, it’s okay. I’m just worried about you.”
“I’m fucking worried about me, too.” He inhales deeply and kicks at the wet sand beneath our feet, his hands remaining firm in his pockets. “I thought I’d be fine on this trip with him. I mean, hell, I’ve been biting my tongue for years. I should be used to the taste of blood by now. But after everything he said at your house, then at Christmas and dinner tonight, it became too much for me to handle.”
“What do you want him to say?” I ask, releasing the bottom of my dress and letting the fabric whip around my legs in the wind. A chill runs up my spine from the cold front moving in, so I cross my arms to rub my shoulders. “It seems like he’s being more open and trying to at least talk about the past. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“But he’s not talking about the right parts,” Gareth states, looking up at me with a shake of his head.
