Chapter 14

14

ETHAN

G rabbing my son's arm, I haul him out of the Carter home and half-drag him across the yard to push him up against his rental car. He rounds on me, his face twisted with rage. From the corner of my eye, I see Elodie standing in the open door of the house, confusion painted upon her features. To be fair, I'm just as confused as she is. This is surreal. But one thing at a time. And right now, dealing with my son is the first thing on my plate.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Ben?"

"I came to bring my girlfriend home," he spits, his face red with rage. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? And what do you mean she's yours?"

"Elodie and I have been seeing each other?—"

"You're twice her age! That's sick!"

"She's a grown woman," I say. "I would have thought even somebody like you would know the difference."

"Somebody like me?"

"Did I stutter?"

I'm still trying to wrap my head around this all. When Elodie spoke about her abusive boyfriend, never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined it was my son. I mean, what are the fucking odds?

"This is a fucking nightmare," he says.

"Yeah, it really is," I say. "It's a nightmare that my son would act that way in somebody else's home. That my son would abuse his girlfriend?—"

"I never abused her. I never raised a hand to her."

"There are other forms of abuse, and I think you know that. And based on what she told me, I'd say you qualify as an abuser."

"Then she's fucking lying to you. She does that, you know."

"Based on what I just saw and how you were behaving in Mrs. Carter's home, I'm inclined to believe her and not you."

"And that's the problem, Dad. You've never been on my side. Ever!"

"I'm not going to take your side when you're in the wrong. And believe me, kid, you're very much in the wrong right now. You can't treat people like that."

"Gee, thanks for the fatherly advice. You're a little late, though."

He folds his arms over his chest and glares at me, twenty-two years of childish and petulant anger emanating from every pore in his body.

"She's my girlfriend, Dad. You need to?—"

"The way I understand it, she broke things off with you."

"She doesn't know what she wants."

"She seemed pretty clear about what she wanted," I say and look at Ben pointedly, "and what she doesn't want."

Ben shakes his head. "What the fuck, man? I mean, what are you even doing with a girl half your age? Do you even know how ridiculous you look?"

"Do I look like I care?"

"No. You've never cared. And that's part of the problem."

"See, you don't get to blame your problems on me, kid. I tried to have a relationship with you. You rejected me, remember? You told me you didn't want a relationship with me," I tell him. "That's all on you. That was your choice. You don't get to turn around now and tell me it's because I wasn't around that you became this asshole who abuses women."

"I don't abuse anybody!"

I glance at the house, and Elodie is still standing in the doorway. Her arms are folded over her chest, and in addition to looking confused, she looks scared. It pains me to see because I never want to see Elodie afraid of anything. Especially not me.

"Look, Elodie doesn't want to be with you. That's more than clear," I say. "And you have no right to barge into Mrs. Carter's house and act the way you did. It's time for you to go."

"You don't get to tell me when I need to leave."

"Actually, I do."

"Oh, gee, are you going to call the cops on me too?"

"I will."

"Of course you will. Because you're not man enough to handle me on your own."

My son is a big kid. But I'm bigger. I'm also a lot meaner than he is and have taken plenty of martial arts classes in my day. He was never motivated enough to do that. So, I have little doubt that if push came to shove, I could whip his ass without breaking a sweat. I'm determined to not let things deteriorate that much, though.

"Ben, this is over. You need to go," I tell him. "You need to go back to LA and move on with your life. Elodie doesn't want to be with you. You need to accept that."

"And if I don't?"

"Kid, you really don't want to push me."

He glares at me then cuts a glance at Elodie, his scowl deepening. Part of me feels bad for how all this is shaking out. He's obviously hurting, and regardless of all the extraneous bullshit, he's my kid and I love him. And I never want to see him hurting. But our relationship—or rather, our lack of a relationship—doesn't give him the right to be abusive. His anger at me doesn't give him the right to be a monster. And whatever happens, he brought all this on himself.

"Look, I'm sorry about how everything went down when you were younger. I'm sorry we haven't had a relationship. Maybe I should have tried harder, but I was trying to respect your wishes. And your wish was for me to stay away, so I did," I say. "But our history has nothing to do with Elodie or how you treated her. That's all a choice you made. And those choices led to your relationship with her going sideways. That's not my fault. It's yours. But hey, go ahead and blame me. You seem to do that with everything, anyway. I'm telling you, though, it's time that you grow up and start accepting responsibility for your own actions."

He scoffs and glares at me balefully. "You done?"

"I am. And so are you," I tell him. "Get in your car, get out of here, and don't come back. Ever. And if I ever hear of you harassing Elodie or setting foot on Mrs. Carter's property again, you are going to be in for a world of hurt, Ben. I promise you that."

He cuts another glance at Elodie and turns back to me with a cruel little twist to his lips.

"You know she's going to have to come back to LA at some point," he says. "And when she does, I'm going to make sure she regrets doing this to me."

"You're not going to do anything of the sort," I tell him.

"No?"

"No."

"And what the fuck do you think you can do living all the way out here in the fucking sticks, old man?" he sneers.

"I've still got a lot of friends in LA who will set you straight."

"You'd actually send them after your own son?"

"If my son behaves like an abusive monster, you bet your ass."

"Unbelievable."

"Ben, I don't want things to be like this. You're my son and I want to have a relationship with you. But I'm not going to turn a blind eye when you do something so wrong. I wouldn't be doing my duty as a father if I let what you did and are doing slide."

He clenches his jaw and looks like he wants to tear my head off with his bare hands. "Ethan, you've never done your duty as a father. Ever."

"Again, that was your choice."

"Fuck you."

"It's time for you to go. Now."

Ben stares at me like he's thinking about testing me. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, and for a moment, I actually think he's going to make me put him down. But he seems to realize his anger can only carry him so far in a fight, especially against somebody bigger and better trained than he is, so he backs down.

"I feel sorry for you, old man," he says. "I really do."

"I'm not the one you should be wasting your pity on. Try looking in the mirror," I tell him. "Unless you start learning how to not act like an asshole and treat a woman the way she deserves to be treated, you're going to be living a long, lonely life, son."

"Stop calling me son. I'm not your son."

His words hurt me, but I manage to keep from letting it show. Some small part of me has always wanted to believe that one day, Ben and I would reconcile. I can see now that's never going to happen. And to be honest, with the way he's comfortable acting, especially toward a woman, I can't say I'm too broken up about it.

"Time for you to go," I say again.

"You're a real asshole, you know that?"

"You're not the first person who said so."

"I'm sure I won't be the last, either."

"Probably not," I say. "Now, go back to LA and forget you ever knew Elodie. Move on with your life as she is managing to do."

Huffing and puffing, he walks to his car and climbs in. Ben slams the door, starts the engine, and revs it loudly before hitting the gas and screeching away, leaving a trail of rubber behind him. I watch him go, feeling a stab of guilt and anger knowing any chance I might have had to repair my relationship with my son has evaporated like a puddle of rain on the sidewalk on a warm spring day. I watch him go until his car is out of sight then turn back to Elodie, who remains standing on the porch of her grandmother's house, hugging herself tightly.

Clearly, I've got more damage control to do.