“You need to get her, and get the hell out of here. Your mother has had enough to worry about because of you. She doesn't need this shit too. You just keep fucking up, it's like you can't help yourself. It's not over, is it, Porter?”
“It never was over.” Crumpling the paper in my hand, I threw it into the small garbage beside his desk. “I'm trying to end it for good, but it isn't as easy as moving away. I can't run anymore, I'm sick of it. And after what they did, after what they did to our family, I can't let them live. They won't stop until I'm dead, so why shouldn't I take matters into my own hands? I'm done hiding.”
Standing up straight, my father stepped to the small bar he had against the wall, and poured two short glasses of scotch. Picking them up, he walked to me, and handed me one of the drinks.
He didn't speak for a moment as he took a long sip, and watched me through the glass. Smacking his lips together, he asked, “Is this your plan? To chase each and every single one of them down and kill them? Is that what you want to do?”
“Yeah, it is right. After what happened to Zander, after they tried to pin all that shit on me, do you really think that I can just let it all go? I can't, someone had to do something.”
“She isn't theirs? You're not lying to me?”
“No, she's not. I met her at the bar, but it's complicated now, I can't explain it.”
Pointing at me with his cup, he smirked. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw your mother?”
Shaking my head no, I threw my head back, and downed the alcohol in one gulp. “That's one of those stories you left out I guess.”
“We met in a bar. You know they say you can never find love in a bar, but they're wrong. I did, I found your mother, and I knew the second I saw her that she was the one.”
Thinning my lids, I let me eyes steady on his. It wasn't the time for a stroll down memory lane. “Why the hell are you telling me this? What does this have to do with anything?”
“I'm telling you, because your mother said she saw something in your eyes last night. She said you looked different, that there was something in your eyes she had never seen before. She told me that when you were sitting beside that girl on the bed, you looked at her the same way I used to look at your mother.”
“Usedto?”
Rolling his head on his shoulders, he closed his eyes. “I say used to because time changes things. Back then, we were young, and our relationship was new. That fades after awhile, eventually you find yourself standing in the background, wondering where the hell your life has gone, and why it ended up the way it did.”
“I get it, I fucked up your life. Thanks for the reminder.”
“I'm saying, don't lose sight of what matters. Right now, that girl might look good, you might feel a tingle in your chest, and a jerk in your pants, but that will change, especially with your past.”
“What the hell is your point?” I ask, my tone hard.
“My point,Son,”he said, highlighting that single last word. “Is if you do feel something for her, don't drag her into this, she'll have to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, dealing with your damage. Forget about what you feel right now, and do what's best for her, send her away.”
Rolling my eyes, I laughed. “Are you serious? Franco,” I say, not calling him dad. Father is a word I don't like to use. “You think I like this? Do you think I want to have to worry about her?”
“I just want to make sure you understand. You didn't think about us when you jumped into this shit, and I never could have imagined when I met your mother that we'd be living on eggshells because of her damn son. I never expected to lose my son because of you. Don't fuck up her life too.”
Taking a step closer, I held his eyes with mine. “Just so we're clear, I didn't fuck up your life on purpose. He was your son, but he was my brother too, or did you forget that?”
“You say it like that makes a difference. Where were you when he needed you? Where were you when he was out there, and they took him?”
“I thought I was doing what I had to. But for you to think I knew that would happen, that I willingly let them kill him. . . That's fucking bullshit. When are you going to realize that?”
Scowling, he tilted his head. “When you're out of our lives for good.”
“I'm not doing this right now.” Grinding my teeth together, I chewed up my words and spit them in his face. “I know what I did. How many times do I have to apologize for it? I'm trying to make it right, I'm trying to end it all.”
“Porter, I don't think you realize that this is bigger than you. You said it yourself, they won't stop till you're dead. Imagine the life you'll give that girl; constantly paranoid someone is out there waiting, no freedom to come and go as you please. You're dragging her into hell.”
“That's right.” Chuckling, I stroked my jaw and stepped back. “And that's why I need to get to them before they get to her.” Slamming the glass down, I move towards the door.
“You just can't see it, can you? You think you're fucking unstoppable.” His voice was dark and harsh as his eyes turned to pinpricks. “Didn't you learn anything from your brother's death?”
Slicing a hand through the air, I threw my finger in his face. “I tried to get out, but they wouldn't let me go. They always told me if I wanted out all I had to do was say it.” Turning towards the door, I started to walk away. “Maybe it's time for you stop criticizing me for my mistakes, and treat me like a real son. Stop hating me for what they did, I never meant for it to happen. I didn't know.”
“Mistake? You call that a mistake? We had to uproot our lives because of you, we had to start over. Zander was innocent, he was still a fucking kid, Porter. You failed him, you failed all of us.”
