Even before I get close, I smell it—the thick scent of bourbon. It clings to him like a second skin, familiar in the worst way. He always used to have a drink in his hand, every night since I was born. Never a full-blown drunk, but just enough to let the liquor loosen his grip on control, his restraint andhis fists.
It’s the smell of my pain. The smell of who I was as a cowering child, hiding from him, trying not to get in his way. Even when sober, though, he always found a reason. A reason to hit. A reason to punish. A reason to take out his rage on the life he never wanted—on me.
Becoming a father was his biggest regret. He told me that enough times for me to believe it and that fatherhood destroys a man’s soul. I used to hear those words when I’d close my eyes at night no matter how hammered I’d get or how much success I’d achieve while riding.Compliments make you weak. Pride goes before fall.
Somedays, I can still hear the curses he spoke over me.
“What?” He lifts his hands in mock innocence. “It’s a family reunion. Heard Scarlett and Seth were here so I figured I couldn’t miss it.”
“No one wants you here.”
He chuckles, smug. “Thought I’d come offer my congratulations to your new bride. She might want to meet her new father-in-law. The man who raised her husband.”
My fists clench at my sides. “Don’t talk to Regan. You’re nothing to her and you’re certainly not the man who raised me. How did you even get here?”
“I live in Meadowbrook now. Got me a new woman.”
Of course, he does. Because if it wasn’t enough to ruin my mother’s life and Scarlett and Seth’s, he had to move on, dig his claws into someone else. Another family to destroy. I just hope there aren’t any kids involved this time.
“Leave before you make a scene,” my voice is darker and filled with a warning now.
“Nah. Don’t think I will. I heard there’s an open bar.”
My nails bite into my palms, fury curling hot in my chest. This—this—is why I started bull riding at nineteen. I needed somewhere else to get beaten, somewhere else to let out the rage where I knew I was in control of ending it.
Riding on the back of a bull, yeah, it scared me at first, but it was nothing like the fear I had as a kid where I had nowhere to go and no one to help me. On a bull, I could get off, might hurt like hell dismounting, but I knew there was an end to the pain eventually and the scars it’d leave wouldn’t be emotional ones that haunt me for years.
The best part was I could take my adrenaline and anger out on the ride. I’d rather do that than become anything like my father, taking it out on the people closest to him.
It’s why I fuck hard and leave fast.
Why I’ve always kicked women out before they get the chance to see this side of me.
The side I’ve spent my whole life trying to kill.
The sideheput in me when he contributed to my existence and shared his DNA to make me.
“Leave,” I snarl, stepping closer.
He smirks, eyes glinting with something cruel. “You think you can do it better than me? Be a better husband to this woman? Does she want kids? You want to see if you can do the whole father thing better than your dad did? You’ll find out you can’t. Being a husband is taxing, and a parent is even worse.”
“I’m nothing like you,” I growl, though the rage inside me whispers otherwise.
His smirk deepens, as if he can see the fire building, as if he likes it. He always seemed to enjoy it most when I’d fight back. Try to protect myself with my weak fists and skinny legs, and right now, that’s what I’m doing with my words. I know I’m only adding fuel to the fire he started but I can’t stop it now.
“You might be right about that, son. Because truth be told? I’ve always wondered if you were even mine.”
My breath stalls. My vision blacks out at the edges.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He tilts his head, taunting. “Your mother was a whore. She got around. I never knew for sure if you were mine, but she dumped me on you before I could figure that out and skipped town. I always wondered. Maybe that’s why I enjoyed beating on you so much. You were free labor to the ranch in my eyes.” He steps closer, voice lowering, venom dripping from every word. “You weren’t mine. And when your mother left me with you, Scarlett and Seth’s mom took you in foolishly because she was too much of a push over,when we should’ve just gotten rid of you like I wanted to.”
Something in my chest cracks wide open.
His lips curl in a nasty snarl. “You’re just a bastard son, playing pretend just like you are now.” A sick, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “And despite not sharing my blood, it looks like you inherited something from me anyway.” He leans in closer. “My rage.”
I don’t blink.
