Page 71 of Broken By Silence
Dad shakes his head. “I know.I believe you. But staying clean isn’t just about not using. It’s about finding another way to burn through the weight. You’ve been holding it all in since she came back, and I see it. You need somewhere to put it.”
For once, Crew doesn’t have a snappy comeback. His grin falters, just a little. His throat works, like he’s swallowing something heavy. “So what, this is therapy with fists?”
Dad’s mouth twitches into the faintest smile. “Worked well enough for me in the past… Let’s see if you can keep up.”
The timer shrills.
Crew launches first—fast, wild hands, testing Dad’s guard. He fights the way he talks. Quick, unpredictable, sometimes reckless.
A jab here, a hook there, enough to make anyone else stumble. But Dad absorbs, redirects, blocks. Calm, steady, breathing like he’s sparring, not brawling.
Crew smirks, feints left, and lands a jab to Dad’s ribs, but Dad barely flinches. Dad exhales through his nose, then fires back with a short, controlled body shot that doubles Crew over without malice.
Crew laughs, wheezing. “Fuck… You don’t even sound winded.”
“Not the point,” Dad replies. “The point is survival. Learning to burn through everything without turning to something that’ll rip apart your whole family.”
Crew circles, wiping sweat from his brow. His grin is slipping, his movements sharper now, angrier. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t already know I’m one slip away from wrecking everything? From letting her down?” His fists lash out again, frantic, catching Dad’s shoulder this time. “I promised her. I promised all of you. I stay clean, I don’t fall back, I don’t fucking ruin her life like every other man has?—”
Dad blocks the next blow, grips Crew’s wrist, and steadies him with the kind of control that isn’t about dominance—it’s about grounding. “Crew. You’re not your father. You’re not her father. You’re not the men who broke her. You’re you. And she needs you that way. Not as a martyr. Not as a ghost. Just you.”
Crew freezes, chest heaving, sweat dripping into his eyes. His mask slips completely, and for a second, he looks younger. Lost.
He shakes his head, laughs hollow. “You say that like it’s enough.”
Dad releases his wrist, steps back, and opens his hands. “It is. But you’ve got to believe it before it’ll stick.”
The timer shrills again.
Crew drops his hands, staggering back, laughing breathlessly. His chest heaves like he’s been carrying that weight for years, and maybe he has. He runs a hand down his face and mutters, “Shit. I think I like you, old man.”
Dad steps forward, extending his hand. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, I told you I’d help you stay clean, and I meant it.” His voice softens. “But that means you don’t get to do this alone. You come to me. You burn it off here, not in a bottle of pills.Understood?”
Crew stares at the hand for a long beat. Then he grips it, tight. “Understood.”
The ropes creak one last time as Dad steps out.
He doesn’t look back, just gathers his jacket and towel, calm as ever. The air in the gym feels different now. Less raw, less ready to explode.
More… settled. Still doesn’t mean I like them.
Crew’s still breathing hard, leaning on the ropes with a hand pressed to his ribs. He gives Dad a nod as he leaves.
Dad pauses at the door, looks over his shoulder. “Go cool off. I’ll see you tomorrow, and your Mom has Lottie, so you don’t need to worry.”
And then he’s gone.
Chapter 25
Archer
For a while, none of us move. Sweat dripping down our foreheads, blood still drying.
It’s Elijah, of all people, who mutters, “Drinks?” His voice is rough, lip split, but he says it like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.
Roman laughs. “I feel like I need about five.”
“Add some wings to that order, and I’m in.” I groan.
