Page 78 of Whirlwind

He scoffed. What I’d said was preposterous.

“Whatever it is, you should make sure she knows how you see things or all this could get even messier.”

He only nodded, his lips slamming into a tight line.

“Speaking of mess, does Ladd know? Is she going to tell him?”

“I told her not to, that it could upset him.”

“And be bad for business.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. Mr. In Control of his Dominion was not so in control right now. Reckless was certainly the word to describe this. “Don’t tell him, Violet.”

“I won’t. Frankly, I’m trying to stay away from him these days. Dad, you need to know that Ladd has big plans for himself and Powder Ridge. You should proceed carefully with him. And I agree with you, this juicy tidbit of news might upset his apple cart in a big, big way.”

“I don’t think Anna realizes that.”

I cringed inside at the sound of him saying her name. “Dad, what you and Mrs. Jeffries did was brutal for your wife. You know that, right?”

He sniffed in air. “I know.”

“If you don’t want to be married to Mom anymore, let her know so she can officially get on with her life and you can get on with whatever it is you want. And then you can both freely screw whoever you want. Whenever. Wherever…”

He jammed his eyes shut, his jawline tight.

Still no retort. No rebuke.

Things were bad. I’d always wondered when Dad’s rock-bottom would happen. Was this it? Cheating on his wife and fucking his good friend’s widow, his investor? Pretty damn risky and reckless behavior for Marshall. This goddamn anniversary always had us doing crazy things, but this ten year was proving to be a doozie.

When people lose everything in a fire, they pick themselves up and start over, fresh beginnings. Not us. There had been no renewal. Only shock, numbness. More shock. And bitter, grueling musts.

Must go on. Must go on.

Must never tell the truth.

We had to lie to everyone about the real cause of the fire. We were still protecting Five, even now that he was gone. And that required energy we didn’t have.

Eventually, the rawness of the shock wore off, but we’d already cloaked ourselves in our grief and regrets. A heavy damp and musty winter coat you never took off even though the seasons had changed. Each of us still hurting in our own ways. Each of us spiraling alone.

Mom had become “emotional” as Dad labeled her depression, her on again, off again listlessness. It was awkward for him. He didn’t know how to handle it, and he didn’t know what to do with his own grief over his son’s untimely and horrible death. Instead of trying to figure it all out, he threw his ragged energy into work and local politics, and left Mom to me, Jessa, and Gigi.

And although he’d been relieved that Jessa and I had survived the fire, there lingered a discontent, a bitterness.Why couldn’t my boy have survived too?I imagined he wondered every time he looked at me and Jess. His hugs got less frequent, his eye contact more stern. While Mom had gotten emotional, Dad had become cool, distant. We’d all settled into a new way of being.

Mom pressed forward and threw herself into creating the Meager Grand. Jessa had become obsessed with getting the best grades and being the best soccer player. She’d graduated college with honors, and had immediately gone on to getting her Masters in Interior Design. Three months ago she’d gone to Vienna to take an Architectural History seminar and was now traveling around Europe, soaking up the cultural and architectural hotspots before coming home.

After the fire, I’d kept my head down and in my books. I had my fun but was careful to not get into any trouble. I’d stayed close to home, to be there for Mom, for Dad. To make up somehow for our great losses. The loss of my brother, the loss of promise, of joy. Of trust and innocence.

Couldn’t we be that close family again, like we were before Five went off the deep end? Since he’d died, things were certainly quieter.

Maybe too quiet.

The stress of Five’s erratic behavior, his frenetic energy, had been replaced with the stress of solitary grief and bitter regrets. And guilt. So much guilt. I tried to keep things running smoothly for everyone, every little bit counted. That had kept me grounded, sane.

But now what my father had done shattered all my musts, all my shoulds.

“Dad.” I leveled my gaze with his, my pulse ticking up. “I’m going to take time off from the company now, and then after the auction, I’m quitting. For real.”

He blinked.

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