More Than Lies (More Than #1)(41)

“Tara?” I call out again. I can’t help myself. I know it’s no use, but I don’t stop calling her name in hopes she will eventually answer me. This isn’t how I envisioned tonight ending. Her angry, I can handle. Tara upset and crying, I can deal with—even though I wouldn’t like it. Tara lying on the couch unconscious, not so much. I’m holding on by a thin thread here.

When is my mom going to get here?

“Why do you continue to talk to her? You know nothing is going to change.” I’m about ready to handle Matt the best way I know how, my fist connecting with his face.

I push off the floor and get in his face. He backs up and I advance.

“This happened because you let it.” I point behind me in Tara’s direction.

“Back off, Shawn.” Oh, he’s angry is he? Well, let me give him something to really be angry about. I grab the material of his polo, fisting it in both of my hands.

“Make me, motherfucker.”

“Shawn Douglas.” My mother’s voice calling me by not only my first name but also my middle name hits my eardrum causing me to release his shirt, but I don’t back off.

“What the hell is going on in here?” my dad bellows.

Shit. Of course she brought him. I knew she would, and I also knew he wouldn’t let her come alone. I don’t blame him. I’m sure if I had a wife I loved, I wouldn’t let her crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to run to her adult kid’s beck-and-call alone, either.

“What’s wrong with Taralynn?” My mother’s voice is full of concern. She practically runs toward the couch. My mom has a bond with Tara that I don’t exactly understand, but I don’t dislike it either. They are close. “Honey?” My mom has called Tara “Honey” for as long as I can remember. I’m certain she loves her as though she was her own daughter.

“Shawn, start speaking . . . now,” my father demands. It’s a voice that makes me feel like a child again. I step away from Matt to look at my parents. Shit, my ass is about to get it. I inhale through my nose and force the air out through my mouth.

“She was drugged.” My mother gasps. My father’s eyes widen in shock. “The date rape drug.” Now my mother’s eyes do the same and I press on. “He didn’t touch her. I got to her before anything bad happened.”

“You don’t call this bad?” my dad yells. “Why isn’t she at the hospital?”

I don’t have a response for that. I look down. I knew I should have made a different call.

“A word, Shawn.” My dad says through clenched teeth. “Now.”

I follow him into the foyer. Disappointing my parents isn’t something I’m used to doing. I’ve screwed up in past. I screwed up a lot back home before I moved to Oxford, before I got out into the real world and found my place. Before I grew up, I guess. Never once, until this moment, have I ever felt like I’ve let my mom and dad down.

This feels like pure shit.

“Where did I go wrong? Please explain to me where I messed up on the parenting road, because I was pretty damn sure until tonight I taught you better than this.” His eyes are boring into mine hard.

“You did, sir.”

“Then why is she laying in that room unconscious when she should be laying in a hospital?”

“I don’t have an excuse, Dad. I mess—” Before I’m able to finish the front door flies open and in walks Trent, and he’s pissed.

“What the hell did you let happen to my sister?” He grabs onto me the same way I had Matt, pushing me backwards. I have to grab onto the railing on the stairs so I don’t fall backwards onto the steps.

“Trent.” My dad calls out. “Let him go.” Trent doesn’t and I don’t push him off me either. I probably deserve this. If I hadn’t kissed Tara earlier tonight none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have taken off work early. She wouldn’t have been here for it to happen in the first place. I’m just as much to blame as Matt, maybe even more so.

“I asked you a question. Answer me, damn it.” Trent is screaming in my face.

“Let him go, Trent.” My father pulls Tara’s brother off me. “If you want to go see about your sister, I suggest going in there.” My dad points in the direction of where she is. Trent eyes me hard, but does as my father says.

I push myself off the railing and stand back to full height. My dad is looking at me, waiting on me to speak.

“I’m sorry. I know I messed up, Dad. It’s just . . .” I shake my head because ultimately there isn’t an excuse for not taking her to the hospital to be checked out. My mom is a pediatrician and my dad’s a cardiologist, but neither one of them work in emergency medicine. My dad steps closer, wrapping his hand around the back of my head, and then he pulls me into him. I rest my forehead on his shoulder.

“At least you called us, son.” My dad and I both sigh at the same time. “Just promise me, in future, you will call for immediate help. That means an ambulance.”

“There won’t be a next time.” I assure him.

“Son, you can’t predict the future. None of us are promised tomorrow. You have to make decisions today to the best of your ability, and hope that there is a tomorrow. You’re my son, so I know the best of your ability is better than the call you made here tonight. Learn from it, that’s all I’m asking.”