Broken and Screwed 2 (BS #2)(86)

“Oh.” He blinked rapidly, but only turned back to Jesse. “Your mother and Don?”

“No, Dad.” Jesse never tore his gaze from my dad’s. “That’s the point. Mom was faithful to you.”

“Oh Jesse,” my mother whimpered. “You went there.”

Then my father erupted. He burst out of his chair and leaned across the table. His hand reached out, but Jesse never moved. He didn’t bat an eyelash and my father was forced to retract his hand, but he shook his finger in Jesse’s face. “You stop this. Right now. I won’t have you drag my name through the mud.”

“Not like last time, right?” Jesse’s tone had cooled. My father was boiling mad, but I grew wary. I knew my father would never touch Jesse, not the son of Malcolm Hunt, but that didn’t go for Jesse. He would do violence. This was the Jesse that was starting not to give a damn. And his father grew quiet as well. This was the son he was used to over the years. We shared a look, both concerned, but I didn’t say anything. Jesse was making my father like this. He was doing it on purpose so I could hear the truth. My gut was telling me that’s what was going on. He added, so cold and disdainful, “Not like Ethan did.”

A vein popped from my dad’s throat. His hands slammed down on the table and a pin could’ve been heard. I glanced towards the end of the table. All eyes were on us. Cord was watching Jesse, as was his other roommates. Kara had a hand to her mouth. Cord’s date seemed confused, but Tiffany surprised me like last time. She was watching me. There was no fear. She looked ready to handle anything.

I took a deep breath. If Tiffany was this cool, calm, and collected, by damn that I wasn’t going to be. I met Jesse’s gaze. He’d been holding my father’s in a standoff, but he caught my gaze. I felt his push then. He wanted me to take over so I put my napkin on the table and stood. I felt everyone’s eyes now on me and my father stepped away from the table. It was a small movement, but enough for me.

My mother lifted a hand to her husband’s arm. She began to shake her head and her fingers tightened.

“Stop.”

She looked to me. I caught the fear there, and the guilt. She was so damned guilty. How had I not seen this before? This wasn’t about me. This was about Ethan, whatever secret there was. I remembered Barbie’s revelations. Ethan had become friends with her and Jeremy Benson. They were known for using drugs. She told me that Ethan had been with her on his last night before Jesse called.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “I blamed Jesse, but I was wrong.”

My mother’s chest lifted as she took a deep breath.

“Wasn’t I?”

She tore her gaze away and stood beside my father. “Don, honey. We should go.”

“Not before you tell me!”

“Jesse, what is going on?” Malcolm hissed under his breath.

But Jesse didn’t answer. He didn’t move. He remained in his seat—a lurking predator that chose to stay crouched down. I knew he would spring up if I needed him, but this was my time. This was my fight. He laid the path for me. I would see it through now.

“What happened with Ethan, Mom?”

“Oh, honey.”

“Dad?”

My father was taking deep breaths. I could hear him wheezing as his lungs were rattling inside of him. He was a monster. So I asked, “Who did you sleep with? And Ethan knew about it? You said like last time. What did you mean?”

“Stop this, Alexandra,” my mother pleaded.

I swallowed the last bit of sympathy for her. As I saw my father still struggling for composure, I grew even more determined. “Who was it? How did Ethan know about her?”

“Shut up.” Finally. My father snapped. His face grew red and his Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down. It wouldn’t stop. He seethed at me and I saw that his teeth were grinding against each other. “You shut up now.”

“Don!”

No one else spoke. This was a family moment, in front of an audience, but I heard Jesse lean forward behind me. His hand touched the back of my leg and my father lashed out, “You stop touching her.”

“Then start telling the truth.” There was no fear in Jesse’s tone. It was even keen.

Malcolm stood now, skirting between the two sides of the table. He slowly put his cloth napkin on his plate as well. “I think this dinner has moved past social etiquette. Don, Shelby, I’d like to thank you for coming. It was a pleasure, as always.”

Jesse laughed, “Are you shitting me, Dad? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

My father’s icy gaze never left mine, but he asked Malcolm, “What is your son referring to?”

“Nothing, Don. Nothing at all. Jesse, you stop this right now.”

“No.”

“Jesse.”

My dad was teetering. He wanted to lose his cool. He wanted to yell at me, but he kept himself restrained. He was right there. Only a small nudge and I had him. I could taste all the secrets.

I drew in a breath, ready to deliver a taunt, but then I heard, “Oh, for goodness’ sake. Don, tell her. It’ll come out someday.”

“No!”

“Tell her.” My mother lifted her chin to him. The trembling was gone and defiance had taken over. “Or I will. This is your secret. You should be the one to tell her.”