Why You Shouldn't Lend A Bad Boy Your Clothes

Chapter 38

Mom winced like I had punched her and looked down at her intertwined fingers. "You're not being fair. It's not that easy, he-"

I felt my patience wearing thin as I looked at her pathetic, pitiful figure. She looked at me with wide eyes when I tightly gripped her hand and held it up to her face so she could see her wedding ring still glittering there. "Yes, mom, it is that easy. He cheated on you. Where do you think he is right now? Where he spent the night?"

"Oh god," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "You think he was... with her?"

Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes at her naivety, I said: "Yes, mom. And you know that's not the only thing he's done wrong in the last few months."

"Juley, I know you're upset about the way he treated you. But, you must understand, he had his reasons-"

"Are you really still defending him?" I asked incredulously.

But before I could get an answer out of her, the door opened with a bang and in stomped my father. I didn't even have the time to duck away before his hand shot forward and grabbed me by my collar.

"There you are," he hissed. "What are you telling your mother, huh? Haven't you done enough already?"

"You're still here, so apparently not," I ground out and glared back at him.

"Watch your fucking mouth," he barked. "Or I'll-"

I forced myself to raise my chin and look him in the eye. "What? What are you going to do? Hit me? Like you hit Luke?"

My father's face immediately paled and his grip on my shirt loosened just enough for me to break away. I stumbled back to bring some space between us as soon as he did.

"What? What does that mean?" my mother suddenly stuttered. When I turned around to her, she was slowly getting to her feet.

"It's nothing, Linda," he snapped. "You can't believe a single word coming out of his mouth."

Meanwhile, I was still trying to process the new information. "Really, dad? You never told her?"

"Shut up," he answered, just as my mother asked: "Told me what?"

"He hit Luke. Not just once, but every time Luke made the tiniest mistake and you weren't around. When he came home later than ten. When he got anything worse than a C on an exam. When he forgot to do one of his chores at home. Do you want me to go on?" I asked, swallowing hard as I remembered all of the evenings when I had entered Luke's room only to find him sitting on his bed with new bruises or another ice pack pressed to his face.

My mother's skin turned ashen. "His black eyes... all those bruises... I thought they were because he was bullied at school..."

"Really, mom? You never bothered to ask?" When she shook her head in shame, I said, sharp enough to make her flinch: "See, that's your problem. You don't ask or talk. You never talked to Luke about what was going on. You completely stopped speaking to me after you found out about Hunter. You knew that something was up with dad, but you never inquired. You'd rather believe in lies than know the truth, and that's just one of the things that has ruined this family."

"Oh my god," she whimpered, pressing a hand to her mouth. "I'm the reason he... he..."

"Killed himself?" I asked harshly. "No, you're not. You're just one more small factor. Luke wasn't okay, but it was dad who pushed him over the edge."

"I didn't fucking kill my son!" my father yelled, red-faced and spluttering spit.

"Yeah, dad, you did. And you know what, if it wasn't for my friends and Hunter... maybe you could have killed me too."