Yellowstone

Chapter 25 - Runaway

"You know the truth and what it means." John rasped, not looking up at Jamie, who stood near the couch on which John was seated.

"I don't know the truth. I just know lies. I know the lie you told me every day of my life.  And worse, if that's even possible, the lie you had me tell you. Every. Day. Of my life."

"And what lie is that, son?"

"That." Jamie snapped. "That's the lie. You called me son and you made me call you father."

John huffed a little. "Sit down."

"You don't get to tell me what to do anym-"

"Then get the fuck out of my house." The older male snarled, rising to his feet. "You can sit in my living room or you can leave it. Those are your options."

After a few moments of hesitation, Jamie walked around towards the fireplace and sat in a chair.

John remained standing as he began to talk. "When a bull breeds a cow, we don't call the calf his 'son'. The bull is a sire and the calf is his offspring. That's all. Then the cow, well she, she is a mother because she feeds it, protects it, cares for it... loves it. She deserves to be called a mother. But the bull, he's... he's just a bull. And that's all he'll ever be."

Anger and frustration still boiled in Jamie's chest as John walked behind him to refill his glass.

"Your mother never got a chance to love you. You were three months old when he beat her to death with a shower head. The woman who fed you, loved you, and protected you was my wife. And me. I protected you, I taught you, I guided you, I gave you love and kindness and everything that you future was guaranteed to be without. So you can call me whatever you want, but I will call you son."

Jamie's breathing became unsteady as he stared at his hands. "Did you know him?"

"Yeah, I knew him. And when he married the woman who gave birth to you, we all begged her not to do it. I guess she thought she could save him. Why she wanted to bother in the first place, I have no clue."

Jamie's eyes darted around John's face, searching for even the smallest trace of sympathy or softness.

"You're a resourceful man, so if he's still alive I'm sure you'd be able to find him."

*~*~*~*~*

"Dammit..." Monica huffed, stepping out of her car.

Leaving her jacket in the passenger seat, she shut the car door and opened the hood of her Nissan, examining it as steam pumped out.

She took her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, groaning a little when she saw the words 'No Service' in the top left corner of the screen.

She sighed shortly. Now she had no choice but to wait until a passerby who was kind enough to give her a ride.

A man in a hefty Ford truck pulled up beside her and leaned across his console to roll down the passenger side window. "Broke down, huh?"

"Yeah, it's the radiator. The hose, I think." Monica told him, looking over her shoulder at her vehicle.

"You don't have a spare, do you?" She asked.

"What, you gonna fix it all by yourself?" The stranger scoffed.

"Do you have a spare?" Monica repeated herself.