33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Darren

Christian and I were packing up to go back home for Christmas, and I couldn't wait to see his family… Mom, too, but I hated the house I grew up in. Now that I'd been gone for a few months, I didn't want to set foot back in there, but I would for her. Regardless, I was staying with Christian's family.

I looked over at my boyfriend, who was wearing a slouchy sweater in burgundy—my favorite color on him—which fell off his right shoulder. Even better, he was wearing his dangling pearl earrings. He looked sexy as fuck.

"I'm glad to see you wearing your prettier things again," I said, tugging at the sleeve to expose his creamy shoulder more. I bent down to kiss it.

"Yeah… it's hard to be confident again, but I'm trying. "

I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his small frame. "I've been thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Here I am, trying to be all sweet, and you're being a meanie."

Christian snorted a laugh. "Sorry, you made it too easy. So, what were you thinking?"

"I've always wanted to go to therapy, believe it or not. The school has a pretty good program here called CAPS, or Counseling and Psychological Services. I've never been able to afford it, but UVA provides help for their students. I would like to talk to someone about my youth and what I've gone through. Those damn issues just linger like an itch."

Christian turned in my arms to face me, resting his hands on my chest. "I think this is a great idea, Dare. Do you want me to go with you?"

"I want you to go with me to get help, too. We can do it as a couple. You try to hide it, but I know you're still afraid. Dressing as yourself is a good step forward, but I think there are things both of us still need to push through."

He sighed, looked away, and nodded. "And I'm still lost academically."

"That, too. Now that football is finished for this year, I've got more time to focus on this."

Christian wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me down for a kiss.

"Okay, let's do it."

"Have you told your mom yet what happened?"

His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. "No, and I won't. She worries about me enough."

"What about your dad?"

"He'll only tell her."

His family should know, but I wouldn't push it. I would leave that up to the therapist .

My phone buzzed in my jeans pocket. I pulled it out to see a call from Mom. She rarely called me, so my stomach clenched, worried something had happened again, that my dad had slipped up.

Christian went back to packing as I answered the phone.

"Hey, Mom."

"D-Darren?"

Shit, if she sounded afraid… I'm going to fucking kill him this time, my career be damned.

"What's happened?"

Christian sat on the edge of the bed, watching me with worry in his beautiful, coppery eyes.

"It's… your father."

"Fuck… that's it. He's dead. Or I'm having him arrested. I'm fucking over this."

"Darren!" she said more firmly, shocking me into silence. "H-he is dead—last night. Drove home drunk and crashed into a tree, driving way too fast. I-I don't know how I feel about this. I don't know what to do."

An unexpected rage filled me. Shouldn't I have been relieved? He was gone and out of our lives, and now Mom could finally move on without fear. But all I felt was even more hate for him.

"I'll be there in a few hours. We'll deal with it when I get there."

"O-okay."

I held my phone almost tight enough to crush it and paced back and forth.

"Fucking asshole. Idiot. What to do… what to do?"

What was I going to do with Mom? I had no money to help her. She barely made enough to survive on her own, if at all. I'd hoped she would hold out long enough for me to get into the NFL, make more money than I'd ever made in my life, and get her a house or something away from him.

Christian stood in front of me and rested his hands on my chest. "What's happened, baby? "

Red. Red rage filled me, and there wasn't a damn fucking thing I could do about it. That anger always lingering like fucking cancer I couldn't get rid of.

"Dad's… dead."

"What?!"

"Crashed his fucking car into a tree while driving drunk."

"Jesus."

"He got what he fucking deserved!"

"I'm not sure what to say. I don't wish people dead, but what he did to you and your mom…"

I deflated on the bed, rested my elbows on my thighs, and ran my hands through my hair. "But…"

"But what?" He sat next to me and entwined his arm in mine.

"It's stupid."

"Dare, your feelings are never stupid."

"Yeah? Well, this fucking is. God, I can't believe he's really gone. Somewhere in the back of my stupid brain, lingering there from when I was a kid, was a belief he could've changed. I wish he'd turn into the father I deserved. Even worse, there was this sliver of hope, as small as it was, that we'd be able to resolve shit between us. See, it's stupid. Who the fuck wishes for that from an abusive parent?"

Christian forced himself on me by climbing onto my lap and straddling my thighs. "God, Dare. That's not stupid at all. We all wish for more from our parents. We all hope people like your dad are capable of redemption. Now that he's dead, you've lost that little sliver of hope."

I pulled him tight into a hug, the feel of his tight little body bringing me home. "Exactly. Thank you for getting it."

The anger built again, and I set Christian down. "We need to go."

I shoved the rest of my clothes into my suitcase, grabbed toiletries, and looked around for whatever else I needed. I had to keep moving, or else I would lash out. Thank fuck Christian knew me well enough to say nothing as I processed the shit show that was my family .

We drove Baby Girl back to Loudoun County in silence, and I dropped Christian off at his house.

"Dare, let me come with you. Let me be there for you."

"No. I… need to do this alone."

He grabbed my hand and threaded our fingers together. "Are you sure?"

I nodded and loosened our hands. "God, I don't know what to do with Mom. I can't take care of her. Shit, I hope I don't have to quit school to find work." I punched my fist on the dashboard, bruising my knuckles. "Just when I'm getting my life fucking figured out! He still had to be an asshole, even in death!"

"We'll figure it out, baby."

"Yeah."

Christian climbed over to me on the bench seat and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Call me."

As soon as the door shut, after he had climbed out and grabbed his suitcase from the bed of the truck, I took off.

When I pulled up the truck in front of our old house, I just sat there, staring at it, gripping the steering wheel.

Fucking piece of shit house.

The day I got Mom out of there, I wanted to burn the thing to the ground. It only held ghosts of pain and desperation. Nothing good ever came out of it. The only good thing in my life I had grabbed by the horns.

God, how were we going to be able to afford to bury him? I'd toss him in the with the cow shit if I could.

I could sell my truck.

No, fuck that. Dad didn't deserve me to sacrifice anything for him. Baby Girl was mine and the only thing I owned .

I gripped my steering wheel tighter and shook my body, screaming.

"Fuuuuck!"

I took a deep, cleansing breath, but before I could climb out of the truck, I got a text.

Christian: Your mom is going to live here. We have the space. She can stay as long as she needs. Don't worry about the cost of anything. We'll get the community involved. My grandparents know lots of people in town who can help.

My eyes stung and watered before a sob burst out. For the first time, life was out of my control, but Christian just put me right back together with one text. I loved and appreciated him more than words could say.

Me: Have I told you I loved you?

Christian: Not today ;)

Me: I love you.

Christian: And I love you. Now, no more worries. Let's take care of your mom.

I quickly wiped my wet face, jumped out of the truck, and walked into the house.

"Mom?"

"In here," she called out.

I found her sitting on the sofa with knitting on her lap, but she wasn't working on it.

She looked like hell with her blond hair unbrushed and a bit greasy, like it hadn't been washed in a couple of days, falling into her face.

She looked up at me with swollen eyes, showing she'd been crying.

That familiar rage started to bubble again. How could she grieve over that piece of shit?!

"What am I going to do? Where am I going to go? I can't afford to keep paying bills and mortgage."

All that anger instantly washed away. "You're not crying about him, right?"

"Does it make me a bad person to say I'm relieved?"

"No. Dad won't be fucking missed. "

I sat down on the sofa and took her hand. "You have a place to stay with Christian's family. It's a big house, and they have room. You can stay as long as you need or until you get your feet on the ground. Okay?"

"Oh, they're so nice. I-I don't like living here, Darren."

"I hate this house, too. Come on, Mom. Let's get you packed up and get you the hell out of here… finally."

It was two days before New Year's, and we managed to get my piece of shit sperm donor buried.

The day was cold as hell and overcast, with snow on the horizon. You could practically smell it coming.

When we first arrived at the cemetery, I couldn't believe how many people showed up. Did people like him that much? Then again, abusers could hide their true selves around others, masking themselves as good people. But I soon discovered that they came for Mom and me, not him. There were a couple of his friends, but most of them came to show their support. That was all thanks to Christian's family, who also helped raise money so we could bury him, though he deserved to be in a hole in the middle of nowhere to be forgotten.

If one more person, though, gave me their condolences, I was going to scream. I hadn't needed it, and I almost told them what an abuser he was just to shatter their image of him, but why give him any more thought? I planned to forget him once I left the cemetery.

After everyone cleared out, Dillon, Cade, and Dillon's mom hugged me, and left me alone with Christian, staring down at the cheap casket, sitting there waiting to be covered in dirt.

I snorted some phlegm and spit on it. "Good riddance. Sorry, I know it's bad, but… I don't owe him to be the bigger person. "

"It's okay, baby," he said as he threaded our fingers together, squeezing my hand.

"Well, this has been sobering."

He looked up at me with quizzical, dark eyes. "Your dad dying?"

I nodded. "Yep. I've spent most of my life controlling it as much as possible, claiming what I wanted. But with him dying… It shows how little control I have over life sometimes. No matter how much I think I have my shit together, things still happen. Between you getting hurt and Dad dying, putting my very future at risk…"

"Do you still feel a bit out of control, baby?"

"Yeah. Part of me wants to tighten my hold on my control because of it. Another part of me just wants to say ‘ fuck it ' and let it all go to see what happens."

"Or you could find a balance between the two."

I huffed a laugh, bent down, and kissed the one person I loved most in this world. "I'm not sure if I know how, but we can ask the counselor when we talk to them."

"You're so amazing, Dare. I think you carry a lot of weight on your shoulders, but you wear it well. Talking it out will definitely help, but I know, in the end, you'll always figure things out."

I smiled down at him and straightened the pearls around his neck. He wore a beautiful charcoal-gray suit paired with his pink blouse—his favorite blouse. Talk about balance. Christian was the perfect balance of masculine and feminine. He also balanced me out, keeping me grounded—well, most of the time, anyway.

"Come on. Let's go celebrate his death," I said and led us out of there. I never looked back at my father and never would again.

After the reception cleared out, I grabbed myself a beer. No one stopped me, being underaged and all. I sat in the living room next to Christian and took a sip. Bubbles sat on my lap while Bean snuggled next to Christian. They were exhausted after a busy afternoon of barking and demanding pets from all the strangers .

When I stared at the roaring fire in the fireplace, still covered in Christmas garland, I sighed. "I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me and my family. I'm not sure I deserve it, but I'll accept it."

"Stop it, Darren," Tally said. "You deserve it. No more self-deprecating talk. You love my son and have taken good care of him. And you're a good person. It's not the first time you've talked like this. Enough is enough."

Christian's grandparents agreed, but it was Mom's words that surprised me the most.

"For a while there, I was worried you'd turned into your father, but you didn't. You're an angel, Darren. Whatever dark road you started to head down, you changed course all on your own and with no help from me." She sniffed and sipped her wine. I'd never seen her drink before, probably to stay alert at all times. "I've found some free group therapy for people just like me. It'll be good to talk to someone who understands. I'm still afraid, despite your father being gone, jumping at sudden movements and shadows. He'll linger there for a long time, but I hope he'll eventually dim from my memories enough to be whole again."

I set my beer down on the table, stood, lifted her up, and gathered her in my arms. I held on tight as she clawed at my back, suddenly sobbing. "It's okay, Mom. I've got you."