Down and Out(81)

His eyes harden and narrow on me. “You ever stop to think that maybe Dad leaving was a good thing? You’ve always been so hung up on how he abandoned us that you can’t see it for the blessing it was. And maybe, just maybe, Dad knew we’d be better off without him. He was a sinking ship, Declan, and instead of taking us all down with him, he cut us loose. That’s the most unselfish thing I can think of.”
I let his words sink in for several seconds before I say anything. “Unselfish” is not a term I equate with my father, so my first instinct is to tell Blake he’s f*cking insane. But I also can’t tell him he’s right. Even if he did do it for us—which I seriously doubt—I’ll never be okay with it, and I don’t think I have it in me to forgive him.
Sighing, I say, “I don’t know if I can ever see it as a good thing. I remember what it did to Mom. He broke her when he left.”
Blake nods and looks down to the bottle in his hand. “I know. She loved him, for . . . whatever reason,” he says, shaking his head with a resigned look of confusion. “But she would’ve been fine if she’d lived. It would’ve taken time, yeah, but eventually. . .” Frowning, he glances up at me. “Do you remember the last few weeks before she died?”
“Not really.”
His eyes flicker before he looks back down to his lap. “She was happy. She’d stopped crying so much, and she was smiling more and more. It’s like she had hope that things were gonna get better.”
My heart squeezes and I swallow. Why’d he have to go and tell me that? I could’ve lived the rest of my life in blissful ignorance.
Growing agitated, I scrub my face with my hands. “Why are you telling me this? The last thing I want to hear is that Mom finally had hope her shitty life was about to get better right before she bit it.”
“I’m telling you because you need to hear it. Mom was on the path to getting over it, and if she can do it, then I know you can.”
I shoot Blake a glare, but he ignores it and says, “You and I know better than anyone that tomorrow’s not guaranteed. Don’t waste the time Dad’s got left because of what he did in the past. Once he’s gone, he’s gone, and so is the chance to get to know him.” His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “Christ, if nothing else, just tell him how you feel. Tell him how he ruined our lives and how much you hate him. It doesn’t matter what you say, so long as you talk to him. You’re runnin’ out of chances.”
I don’t know if it’s the beer, or finally getting all this shit off our chests, but he’s starting to make a lot of sense. Just not in the way he’d hoped.
Tossing back the rest of my beer, I set it on the coffee table and stand. “You still feel like going somewhere?”
Blake’s brows bunch up as he stares at me. “Sure. . .?”
I know his whole speech was about reconnecting with our dad, but I can’t help but notice the parallels to other aspects of my life. Namely, Savannah.
This rift, fight, whatever it is, has gone on long enough. I’m not guaranteed a tomorrow with her, and I can’t go another day without having her know exactly what she means to me. I doubt she’ll be on the same page, but I have to give it one last shot.
I’ve got everything to lose.




The first floor of the penthouse buzzes with energy as people move on the dance floor. Colorful lights flash in time with the music, illuminating all their happy, smiling faces.
Being here makes me feel like an imposter. I’d go home, if I didn’t think it’d be worse than this.
“Cheer up, babe. This is your night.” Macy sits next to me on one of the plush benches lining the outskirts of the dance floor.
I force a smile at her as she hands me a neon drink in a martini glass. Here she is, looking all pretty and expecting a fun night out, and I’m being such a Debbie Downer. I suck.
Exhaling, I bring the glass up to my mouth. “Sorry. I just wish Declan was here and that we weren’t. . .” I shrug and take a sip of the fruity concoction, feeling the burn from the alcohol as it settles into my belly.
“Fighting?” she muses before taking her own sip.
“Fighting. Broken. A couple of jackasses. Take your pick,” I say, downing the rest of my drink.
Macy sighs. “Look, babe, you’ve got three options: you either move out, or you stay and try to have a real relationship with him.”
Both options terrify me. “What’s the third option?” Go back in time and keep it in my pants? ’Cause I think I’d like to take that one.
“The third option is a delayed variation of the first. You stay and try to go back to being just roommates. One of you will start dating again, and the other will most likely have to hear it at night. You’ll both wind up hurting each other and eventually it’ll fester into hate, at which point you’ll move out anyway.” Meeting my eyes, she says slowly and succinctly, “I do not suggest this option.”
With aching clarity, I realize she’s right. Tonight’s the most we’ve talked since our blow-up two weeks ago, and it wasn’t exactly productive. If we keep this up we’ll end up hating each other, and I don’t want that. I don’t think Declan does either.
“You can always move in with me, if you want. Kelsey’s one thrust away from getting her ass kicked to the curb.”
Staring at the writhing bodies on the dance floor, I absently nod. “I might have to take you up on that.”
“Do you love him?”
Macy’s question grabs my attention, and I frown, wondering if I heard her right. “Love?” I splutter. “Whoa, nobody ever said anything about love. We were never that serious. It was just sex.” Even as I say it, I know it’s not true. It was more than sex. But love? I don’t think so.