Page 64 of Needed You

I scoff. “Yeah, it makes sense for YOU. I live there, Dad. It’s my house too. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been taking care of it while you and mom are off doing god knows what.”

My dad puts his arms on the table and sits forward. “You know it’s hard to be in that house, Darian. I haven’t been able to stay there since—”

“I live in that house!” I cut in. I have no time or tolerance for this bullshit. “Don’t tell me—”

“Please stop raising your voice,” he pleads in a loud whisper, sitting up straight. His eyes flash at me in anger and embarrassment. I notice a few people looking our way. He takes a big drink of his margarita again.

I slump back into my chair. “Please don’t do this. I know what it’s like to live there. I’ve been there alone for close to five years, Dad. But I’ve managed to make it work. I take care of it. I’ve remodeled some of it. I’ve figured out how to stay there and not be reminded every second of every day that I lost my brother and my parents.” I fight the tears that are threatening to spill over.

The server brings our food right at that moment, and I almost feel sorry for her as she steps into our conversation.

Once she leaves, my dad takes a deep breath. “Look, son,” he says, his voice softening, “I know that your mom and I didn’t handle what happened with Nate well. We all lost each other. The house is just something that we don’t need anymore. We’re paying bills for something way larger than any of us need. You have enough money to get an apartment or a house of your own.”

He starts to assemble his fajitas, and I sit there staring at him, my appetite gone. He’s just going on as if he didn’t continue to push this narrative that we need to get rid of the house and more importantly, the memories.

“I like the house, Dad.” The statement comes out meeker than I hoped.

“I know, Darian. I do. But what your mom says makes sense. She’ll be back from her trip in about a month, and in the new year, we’ll start talking more seriously about it. I’d suggest you start looking around. I can get you in touch with an agent if you need me to.” He takes a bite of his fajita and chews slowly. “It’s time we all start fresh. Hanging onto the house isn’t helping to let go of those final reminders of your brother.”

The lump in my throat is so large I can barely breathe. I push my chair back, stand up, and walk out of the restaurant, heading to my dad’s car. I need air. I cannot believe what I’m hearing him say. I understand that everyone grieves differently, but wiping out all of the memories of someone and letting go of the things that keep us tethered to them is not the way to get through this.

I want the house. I can make it work. I’m doing okay financially, and even though they pay the bills now, I could take them over. I’ve tossed around the idea before, but I never wanted to bring it up because I knew this is what would happen.

I sit on the hood of the car, shivering. I’m not sure if it’s my nerves or the cold.

About ten minutes later, my dad comes out of the restaurant with a brown bag of take-out containers. He unlocks the door and puts the bag on the back seat. He doesn’t look at me.

“I’ll drop you off, and you can have your dinner when you’re interested,” he says. His voice is tense.

The drive back to the house is silent and painful. I have nothing to say, and I know that he feels conflicted and doesn’t know what else to say to me, either.

Why did my family have to get so fucked up? We could have pulled together and had something tight and workable. We may have even been able to move forward and deal with our loss in a healthy way. Instead, we abandoned one another.

No, they abandoned me. I refuse to take responsibility for wanting to lean on my parents. They lost a son, but they still had another one. I was still a kid!

Dad pulls into the driveway and puts the car in park. I guess it’s safe to assume that he’s not staying here tonight. I’m reaching for the handle when he stops me, his hand setting gently on my arm.

“Darian,” he says softly, “I’m sorry to upset you. We will get through this and we’ll all be okay. I think it’s best if I sleep at the office tonight.”

I shake my head and get out of the car. “Bye, Dad” is all I can manage. I shut the car door behind me, walk to the house, and unlock the door. Stepping inside, I turn to watch my dad’s car backing out of the driveway and then heading off down the street. When the car is out of sight, I shut the door and lean my back against it, then I slide down to the floor, bury my head in my hands, and sob for the second time this week.

Chapter 33

Levon

It’s been a few days since Dare showed up at my house and asked me to hold him. When he was standing on the other side of my door, so broken and beautiful, I just wanted to pull him to me and hug him. Falling asleep with him just felt right. He belongs in my arms. He’s so complex—deep and broody but with this sensitive and soft side. It’s intriguing, and I hope that he gives me more chances to see all those sides of him.

After a Friday night dinner at my parents’ house, I crawl into bed to relax and check social media. I pull up Dare’s social media feed to see if he left any hints as to where he may be tonight, but he hasn’t posted anything. I decide to take a chance and text him.

Me: Hey Little Lycan.

Some time passes, and I find a movie to watch as I settle under my covers. He eventually sends me a message back.

Lycan: Hey yourself.

Me: What are you up to tonight?

Lycan: Not a whole lot. What about you?