Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(125)

He swings the cell door open. I’m about to stand, but he says, “There’s someone here to see you.”

I stay fixed to the bench, my limbs solidifying into stone as soon as the person saunters down the hallway, buttoning his suit jacket. My father stands there.

My f*cking father.

With a hard gaze like mine.

With a severe jaw and dark brown hair and my f*cking eyes.

I look more like him than my brother. But Lo would say it’s better to f*cking look like Jonathan than to be him, to act like him, which Lo wades into on occasion.

But if Lo was here, he’d want me to make nice. He’d want me to bury the resentment. Back in Utah, he asked if I could do that. I told him the truth. I don’t know. A part of me wants to try. The other part just wants to push Jonathan so f*cking far away.

One side is stronger.

“You can close the f*cking door,” I tell the officer.

My father cocks his head. “Don’t be a little shit. You’re sitting in a cell right now.”

“I never asked you to f*cking be here,” I retort.

“But I’m here, Ryke. And I’m not going anywhere. Whether you want me to or not, you don’t have much of a choice.” And then my dad steps into the jail cell. “Can you give us a few minutes?” my dad asks the officer.

“I’ll have to lock you in.”

I expect my father to pull out a wad of cash, to threaten or bribe, but instead he just nods and says, “That’s fine.”

I frown, watching as the cop shuts me in a cell with my father, and my dad doesn’t balk, not f*cking ashamed to be here. He just stands opposite me, hands in his black slacks.

After the loud bang of the door shutting, the cop disappears down the dark hall.

Why are you f*cking here? I should ask him. But I’m back at that country club, quiet, seventeen and hateful, no matter how much I just want to let it all go.

“I have my team of lawyers sorting through this mess,” he says. “It’s being taken care of. You should be out of here in fifteen minutes.”

I open my mouth to tell him that I don’t want his help, but he cuts me off.

“You are my son. I don’t know how many times I have to f*cking remind you of that—it’s like Sara f*cking burned my name out of your head.”

My jaw locks tight. I don’t want to reignite all of those issues. I don’t want to hear him call her a bitch or shout about how she’s brainwashed me. I just want to sit here in f*cking peace and deal with the charges myself.

“Ryke,” he says my name like it means something to him. “What do you want from me?” He extends his arms, his palms flat like he’s opening himself to me, like he’s trying so f*cking hard. “Or am I just swinging at an invisible ball, here? That’s it, right? There’s nothing I can f*cking do. You’ve made up your mind that you don’t want to have a father anymore.”

Something snaps inside of me. “Stop acting like this is your noble way of getting your son back,” I growl, rising to my feet in hot anger. I point at him. “This has never been about just wanting me in your life.”

He frowns with clear confusion, not contrived. “Then what has it been about? Please, f*cking tell me.”

My stomach hurts. I don’t want to have this conversation. I don’t even want to look at him. “Just get out of my f*cking life!” I run a hand through my hair, pulling at the strands. “Fucking leave!”

He doesn’t even flinch. “You’re angry at me. I understand that.”

“Oh, do you?!” I just keep shaking my head, my neck aching. “You shit on me for years. You shit on Lo. And now you want to be my father? How f*cking convenient. My mom blows your cover, the world knows my f*cking name and my relations to you, and now, now you want to say, that’s my son, right there. Look at him. He’s mine.” I point. “Fuck you!”

“I’ve always wanted to be a father to you—”

“LIAR!” I scream at the top of my lungs, my throat burning. “You f*cking liar! If you wanted me as a son, then why the f*ck did you choose to protect yourself over me?! You chose to hide me so you could save your f*cking reputation! So tell me, Dad, how the f*ck am I supposed to feel anything but hatred towards you?”

He looks away, and that empowers me.

“And now,” I continue, opening my arms. “You’ll do anything to have me back in your good graces. You want me to come forward to the media, to tell them how you could never molest my little brother. How that evil deed isn’t in your f*cking nature.” I’m boiling alive, my blood coursing through my f*cking veins. “Ten years later, Dad, and you want me to protect you again. That’s all I am to you. Someone you can use when it becomes f*cking necessary.”

He just watches with a hard gaze, not recoiling, but there’s something deep in his eyes, something foreign. Something sad.

I take a step towards him, pointing at my chest. “You can’t f*cking use me anymore. I won’t be the son by your side, making you look like a f*cking hero when you’re the worst f*cking villain.” I breathe hard, trying to catch the air in my lungs.

I don’t remove my searing glare off of him.

“Are you done?” he asks roughly. He takes my silence as an answer. “Maybe you should remember, Ryke, but I never once asked you to say anything about me to the media. That’s never what this has been about, and if you continue to think that, then it’s your own delusion guiding you to that goddamn place. Not me.” He shifts on his feet, but he doesn’t break my gaze. “I can live with these allegations. What I can’t live with is losing you, losing Loren. I would die protecting the two of you, and if you can’t see that then I don’t know what more I can do to show you.”