Page 8 of Easton
He’s right, I do. I hate him, but he sees me for who I am.
I don’t reply, wish I could keep getting smaller and smaller until I disappear.
“Dad…” Morgan says, but I can’t make myself look at him, look at any of them.
Don’t listen to him, East.
He’s right, El.
No, he’s not.
“Not…babying him…anymore. He’s a disgrace,” Dad spits out, his words coming out slower because of the stroke.
“Dad!” Rhett warns.
“He’ll ruin us, ruin you. You’re running for mayor. Distance yourself from him. He’s not a Swift.”
He’s right, he’s right, he’s right.
Morgan pushes to his feet, yelling at Dad, who tries to get him to quiet down. Dusty holds Morgan back as he sticks up for me, tries to kick our dad out, but I don’t deserve that. Why is he doing that?
When Dad speaks again, it’s directed at me. I feel the hate, so I look at him, see it too. He’s not even trying to hide it from Morgan, Rhett, and Dusty.
“She wanted you…gave her life for you…and this…is how you thank her?” He’s talking about Mom. She wanted her girl, wanted a daughter so much, but she got two of us—me and Ella. A few days after she had us, she had a postpartum hemorrhage and didn’t make it. Nine years later, we lost Ella. “You weren’t worth it. Wish it had been you…not Ella.”
Me too.
And none of them even know the truth. If they did, knew I told Ella where to hide, then Morgan and Rhett would hate me too.
No, East. Don’t listen to him, Ella says.
Morgan lunges at Dad. Dusty tries to hold him back, but then…then the last thing I expect to happen does.
“That. Is. Enough!” Rhett grabs Dad. Rhett, who has never done anything to anger our father. Rhett, whose dream is to be just like him. “My whole fucking life I’ve tried with you, tried to be who you want, and I’m fucking done. Don’t ever talk to my brother that way again.”
My brother.I try to soak in the words, the name I don’t deserve, a thank-you on my tongue that I can’t work through how to say.
They continue to argue around me, but I can’t look at them, can’t talk to them, just stare down, studying my bruised and battered hands as they kick Gregory Swift out of the room.
I turn to them, waiting to see the regret, trying to figure out why they’re here and why they did that.
“What happened tonight, East?” Rhett asks.
When I don’t reply, Morgan adds, “I know you. If you attacked that man, there’s a reason. Don’t sacrifice yourself because you don’t think you deserve it.”
I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.
A knock sounds from the door, and a heavy breath whooshes from my lungs. I don’t know how I know it’s him, why that feels better, like some of the pressure eases off me. That’s a dangerous way to think. I can’t get used to that, used to him. Why the fuck hasn’t he given up already?
“Thank fuck,” Dusty says as he lets Archer inside.
“I had to pull some strings to get in here.” He comes over to me and touches my face, the slightly rough pad of his finger brushing against my chin as he studies my injuries.
I pull away. “Why are you here? Why are any of you here?”
“Give me a minute with him,” Archer tells them. It takes a moment, but I’m surprised they listen to him, surprised I don’t argue. When we’re alone, he says, “I hope the other guy is worse. You’re a mess.”
“Fuck off.” But I actually almost smile.