I pulled on my clothes and headed for the stairs, then stopped and looked back at Blaire lying in my bed. She was curled up in the covers now. Her long blond hair was fanned out over my pillow. As a child, I had often wondered if angels were real. By the time I was ten, I had decided they weren’t. That was all bullshit. I realized now that I’d been wrong.
Blaire was my angel.
Abe was standing in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and looking out the window. This was the man who had abandoned my Blaire. He’d let her bury her mother and left her to figure it out all on her own.
I hated him.
He didn’t deserve Blaire.
Abe turned and met my glare. A frown tugged on his mouth, and he took another sip of coffee before turning to look out the window again. He was used to my hatred. But he had no idea how high it had risen since he’d seen me last. I wanted to start ripping his arms off his body. Just looking at him infuriated me.
“Are you going to ask about her?” I snarled.
He shrugged. “She’s here, I assume.” He assumed. He didn’t care. He just assumed.
“What f**ked you up so badly that you could be so heartless?” I asked, hate laced in my words.
“A pain like you could never understand, boy,” he replied. His voice was empty of emotion.
“She buried her mother by herself, you son of a bitch. And you knew it.”
He didn’t reply.
“She is so f**king innocent and alone,” I said, needing him to acknowledge her, or I was going to lose my shit.
“She isn’t anymore, is she? Innocent and alone, that is,” he said.
My anger hit a boiling point, and I moved across the kitchen. He turned just in time for me to grab him and throw him up against the wall. “You motherfucking piece of shit! Do not ever, and I f**king mean ever, insinuate for a minute that Blaire is anything less than innocent. I will end you! I don’t give a f**k who wants you!” I was yelling.
Abe had dropped his coffee, and the cup had shattered on the floor, but I ignored it. He didn’t look like he cared. There was an emptiness in this man that I didn’t understand. It was as if he had no soul. “Did you sleep with her?” he said calmly.
I slammed him against the wall again, hard enough to rattle the walls and send plates falling to join the broken cup. “Shut up!” I roared.
“Rush!” My mother’s hysterical voice broke through my rage.
“Not your business, Mom,” I said, not taking my eyes off the man I was ready to murder with my bare hands.
“Doesn’t sound like she’s alone anymore, either,” Abe said.
I swallowed the fear that was clawing at my chest. “She’s not. She never will be. I’ll always be there for her. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll take care of her. She will always have me.”
“Who? What are you talking about, Rush? Let Abe go!” My mother was beside me, pulling on my arm.
Blaire was going to come downstairs soon. I couldn’t kill her father. Not unless she asked me to. Then he was a dead man. I let go of him and stepped back. “Careful how you speak about her. I want nothing more than to see you suffer,” I warned him.
“Rush, that is enough!” My mother’s nails dug into my arm, and I jerked free of her.
“Don’t you touch me, either. You wanted this sack of shit in our lives. You let him leave her.” I pointed my finger at her.
My mother’s shock grew to confusion as she looked around her at the broken things. “You’ve made a mess in here. Go into the living room before someone gets cut. I need an explanation for your behavior,” she said, walking out of the room and expecting us to follow.
I watched her go, then looked over at Abe.
“Nothing you can do to me will compare to the suffering I’ve been through,” Abe said, and then he turned and followed my mother out of the kitchen.
How did that man raise someone like Blaire? I didn’t understand how that woman upstairs in my bed could be a product of this man. Nan I could see, but not Blaire.
I had to talk to my mother and Abe. It was why I had gotten up and left my bed with Blaire still tucked in it. I walked into the living room, and my mother looked at me with a gaping mouth. Apparently, Abe had told her something.