Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
I look at Romero, who hasn’t said a word since murmuring my name. He looks like he’s wondering whether this is all a dream – either that or he wishes it was.
“So, what?” Dad throws his hands into the air. “I’m supposed to stand back and let this happen? Sure, Tatum, get involved with someone like him.”
“Someone like him? What does that mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me? Because up until now, you treated him like a son. You’ve trusted him.”
“And look where it got me.”
“Where did it get you? He’s protected your life. He’s protected my life. How hypocritical can you be?”
“Watch it,” he growls. Bianca makes a strained sort of noise–he glances her way and she shakes her head, but he’s too far gone at this point. He refuses to listen to reason.
“No. You need to hear this. Dad, I love you, but I’m not going to stand here and let you act like Romero isn’t good enough for me when all he’s ever done is what you have told him to do. You shaped him into who he is. You don’t get to turn around and say he’s not good enough for me now.”
“You’re twisting my words around, dammit.” He rakes a hand through his hair and curses under his breath before glaring at Romero again. “This is all your fault.”
Romero doesn’t even flinch – he hardly reacts at all, only bearing Dad’s anger with the same stoic silence. Say something. Anything. Stand up for yourself.
But no, that’s too much to ask, isn’t it. It always has been. When it comes to Dad, he’ll never stand up for himself. Deep down inside, he doesn’t think he deserves anything besides this. Being constantly blamed, insulted, all of it.
Finally, he draws a breath, and I hold mine. This is it. This is his chance. My whole future might rest on this. It could all come down to what he does now.
Romero says only two words. “You’re right.”
I should’ve known better. My heart plummets, and all the breath leaves my lungs. He might as well hit me – it hurts that much, the way Dad’s dismissal does.
“Don’t do that,“ I whisper. “Don’t. You don’t have to.”
“I do.” He won’t look at me. Why won’t he look at me? No, he would prefer to stare at Dad, his head held high, his jaw tight. “If you’re going to blame this on anyone, it should be me.”
“No! There’s nothing to blame anybody for. There is nothing wrong with this.“ I glimpse at Bianca, silently pleading, though I know she is as helpless as I am right now. What could she say?
Dad takes a menacing step toward him, and panic explodes in my head. Before I can think, I throw myself between them. “No. Enough of this. That is not how this is going to end tonight.”
“Tatum, get out of the way,” Dad mutters.
“I won’t. Not until you listen to me.”
“What could you possibly say? There’s nothing that would make this acceptable.”
“I love him.”
It’s out there. I said it. There’s no taking it back now. Not when Dad practically sways on his feet like he’s had a severe shock. Not when Bianca gasps sharply. They all heard it.
And somehow, Romero is the only one who doesn’t react. I guess I shocked him too much.
I’ll deal with that later – if Dad lets him live long enough.
What am I doing? How do I stop this? How do I get through? Frantic questions bounce around inside my skull so loud I can hardly hear myself think.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Dad growls. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Bitter tears well up in my eyes, though I force them back. I am not going to break down. Not now. Even if it breaks my heart a little, hearing him say that and knowing he means it. He genuinely thinks I’m incapable of knowing my own heart.
“And there you go,” I whisper, shaking my head. “So sure you know best. One minute, you’re telling me I’m smart and capable, and the next, you’re talking to me like I’m some stupid kid who doesn’t know which end is up. I’m tired of it. I am so tired, Daddy. I need you to actually give me a little credit for once, for real. Not some encouraging words you don’t really mean.”
Either he is shocked that I’m speaking up for myself, or I caught him off guard. Regardless, he goes silent, and I jump on the chance to be heard. “I know you mean well. I really do. But sometimes, you’re so sure that what you’re doing is right you don’t think about what it means for everybody else. Like back home, in your old town. All that work that’s being done, all those improvements? They’re a great thing, and I know it's coming from a good place. But there’s another side to it. People are getting pushed out of their homes because they can’t afford the taxes now that the property values are increasing. Did you ever stop and think about that? No, because you’re so busy patting yourself on the back that you forget there are consequences. You keep me away from him–hurt him, threaten him, whatever–and it will break my heart. You’ll think you did the right thing, but you might as well kill me.”