Page 220 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Easton whispers, “Mase…”

I glance at him, and the way his eyes look scared makes me hate that I’m doing this in front of him.

My feet don’t stop, though. Not until I stop right beside my father’s chair, towering overhimfor a change. His cologne stings my nose. It smells expensive and clean, like he’s never had to scrape himself off the floor of his own life.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” I say through my teeth. “You don’t get to disrespect theoneperson who showed up for me and actually cared about me when you were nowhere to be found!”

He stands up slowly until we’re face-to-face. “I was busy keeping a roof over your head and expensive clothes on your back and paving you a clear path to success, you ungrateful prick.”

He’s taller than me by a couple of inches, and he always makes sure I remember it. Trying to intimidate me.

His voice drops dangerously low. “You don’t want to start a fight you’ll lose, son.”

My pulse spikes as I feel his breath on my skin. “Be a fucking man for once in your life,” I hiss. “If not for me, at least be a stand-up man for those boys.”

His lips curl up slightly. It’s not a smile, though. “Iama stand-up man, and Iamthe man inthishouse. Don’t forget it.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” I snap. “‘Cause you’re a pretty shitty one.”

I shove him. It’s not even a full-body hit, just a hard push to his chest, but it’s enough.

His eyes flash with anger, and then he shoves me back twice as hard.

I stumble, catching myself on the edge of the table.

I look across the table and hate how scared the boys look.

Are they scared of me, or him…or both?

My father steps forward like he’s going to finish it. And I’m ready for it. Ready for a reason to put my hands on him tonight—show him what it feels like to feel helpless around here for a change.

He might be bigger than me, but I promise you I could easily overpower him. I’ve taken down guys way bigger than him on the field, and I’ve been in enough fights to know how to throw a punch that’ll keep him down.

“Hit me,” he taunts. “Show me how tough you think you are.”

I can’t.

Not in front of them.

I won’t become him any more than I already have.

“Fuck this,” I spit, voice shaking from the anger. “I’m done here.”

I reach behind him and grab the wine bottle off the sideboard without even thinking. My hand closes around the neck like it’s a weapon…or maybe just a lifeline.

Rose’s voice goes shrill. “Mason! Put that down!”

Chill. I’m not going to hit him with it. Even though I really want to.

I just ignore her, staring at my father. “Next time you wanna hit somebody? Hit me. Leave them alone.”

His face goes blank again. “Get out of my dining room.”

I glance at the boys, and both of them are staring at me with wide eyes.

Asher looks like he’s about to cry, and it makes me want to scoop them up and take them away far from that bastard.

I hate myself for showing them I’m just like him—just as angry.