Chapter 4 (1/2)

“Stop.” I cringe at the adoration in his voice while distorted memories fog my mind.

“We kept this going on and off for years, and we thought everyone was oblivious. It was my fault; I could never stop loving her. No matter what I did, she haunted me. I moved closer to their house, directly across the street. Your father knew; I don’t know how he knew, but it became clear that he did.” After a pause and a turn down another street, Vance adds, “He started drinking then.”

I sit up, slamming my palms against the dashboard. He doesn’t even flinch. “So you left me with an alcoholic father who was only an alcoholic because of you and my mum?” The anger in my voice fills the car, but I can barely breathe.

“I tried to convince her, Hardin. I don’t want you blaming her, but I tried to tell her to bring you to live with me—but she wouldn’t.” His hands run over his hair, and he tugs at the roots. “His drinking became heavier and more frequent every week, but she still wouldn’t admit that you were mine—not even to me—so I left. I had to leave.”

He stops talking, and when I look over at him, his eyes are blinking rapidly. I reach for the door handle, but he accelerates and presses the power locks several times in a row, the click-click-click seeming to echo around the car.

Vance’s voice is hollow when he starts talking again. “I moved to America, and I didn’t hear from your mum for years, not until Ken finally left her. She had no money and was working herself to the bone. I had already started bringing in money, not nearly as much as I have now, but enough to spare. I came back here and got a place for us, the three of us, and I took care of her in his absence, but she grew more and more distant from me. Ken sent divorce papers from wherever the hell he’d run off to, and still she didn’t want anything permanent from me.” Vance frowns. “After all I did, I still wasn’t enough.”

I remember his taking us in after my dad left, but I never thought too much into it. I had no idea that it was because he had a history with my mum, or that I could be his son. My already tattered view of my mum is completely shredded now. I’ve lost all respect for her.

“So when she moved back into that house, I still took care of both of you financially, but I went back to America. Your mum started returning my checks each month and wouldn’t answer my calls, so I started to assume that she’d found someone else.”

“She didn’t. She just spent every hour of every day working.” My teenage years were lonely at home; that’s why I found company with the wrong crowd.

“I think she was waiting for him to come back,” Vance says quickly, then pauses. “But he never did. He stayed a drunk year after year until something made him finally decide he had had enough. I didn’t talk to him for years until he contacted me when he moved to the States. He was sober, and I had just lost Rose.

“Rose was the first woman since your mum that I could look at and not see Trish’s face. She was the sweetest woman, and she made me happy. I knew I would never love anyone as bright as I did your mum, but I was content with Rose. We were happy, and I was building a life with her, but I’ve been damned . . . and she grew sick. She gave birth to Smith, and I lost her . . .”