Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 23: Carter

"Uh, hi," I say. The words I had planned to say catch on my tongue.

They narrow their eyes. Patrick, my so-called grandfather, has the same eyes as me and Mom. It's the only genetic thing tying me to this family, because otherwise, I look like Adam.

"Well, I'll be damned." He lets out a gruff bark of a laugh. "Back up, let the boy in."

"The boy is not coming in this house." The woman, Kelly, shifts her foot, wedging it behind the door as if I were trying to force myself inside. Her eyes are a sharp hazel and her skin pale, reflecting nothing of my own genetics.

"I'm not going to break into your house."

"Let the boy in," Patrick repeats.

"The boy is not allowed in this house," she squeals, voice growing shrill.

"Well, I can see which one of you is the reasonable human." I shift my gaze to my grandfather as Kelly's mouth drops open. "Will you step outside with me, sir? I have a few things I'd like to say."

Patrick takes a sidelong glance at Kelly. They glare at each other in silence, and I suppose this is what happens when you become high school sweethearts who are forced into marrying because, why? They had a baby together? Such an old-fashioned way of thinking.

This means I probably have great grandparents out in the world, and I'm not sure why my mom never mentioned them before. Though, maybe they are worse than Kelly. Maybe they got the ability to throw away their child from their parents.

"You are not going out there," Kelly says, slamming the door back into place. The deadbolt shifts in the frame, leaving me in stunned silence.

I tap my foot on the ground a few times, because this was unexpected—not a single minute to explain myself. I had believed they would give me some time, a moment maybe. Though, most people don't give me the time of day, so why would my absent relatives do anything different?

I head back down the sidewalk, a kaleidoscope of rage running through my veins. The door opens again, and I pause. Turning, I see Patrick slipping outside, Kelly's hateful whispers following after him. He shuts the door, cutting off her rant mid-cuss. We stand there on the sidewalk staring at each other.

"There's a park two blocks down. You comfortable walking?"

"Are you?" I arch an eyebrow.

"I'm not that old."

"You are a grandfather, though."

He winces. "Yes, I suppose there's that." He zips up his jacket, a kind of windbreaker someone would take running, but it puffs around his middle. "You probably have a lot of questions, but I'd prefer to wait until we're at the park to discuss anything."

"I don't have any questions."

His footsteps halt on the walkway to meet me, and his eyes catch mine again. "Then why are you here?"

"Let's go to the park," I say, starting down the street. He catches up to me, and I can feel his gaze continue to shift over to me. This is the atmosphere I'm used to, where I'm comfortable. I set people on edge, make people question me and my motives. This is where I've existed my whole life and where I thrive. I can do this. The further away we get from Kelly's harpy-voice, the more I'm convinced this was the right move.

Patrick has a few stray hairs coming out of his ears, thin and a dark blond. Whenever they catch the light, it reminds me of a Maine Coon cat. He has a light amount of stubble across his face, and his hair is cropped close to his head in a traditional crew cut. Maybe it fit him before he let his waist go, but now it looks like he's half in the army, half retired, and I'm fairly certain he's neither.

When we get to the park, he follows the paved path to a bench and sits down. He squints up and me, and I take a seat next to him. The wind blows a steady breeze between us, and it adds fuel to the fire.

"I came here because I want you to listen."

He nods and doesn't say anything.

I let out a breath. "My mom is a good person, you know? She did everything right in raising me, and I think it's pretty shitty of you to cut her out because of a difference in opinion seventeen year ago."

There's a beat of silence, and Patrick lets out a long breath. "It wasn't just a difference of opinion."

"Then what was it? Because I can't see any good reason to throw away your child."

He grimaces and looks down at his feet. "You have to understand something, Carter. Our daughter had so much going for her. She was so happy and involved and destined for something great." His hands curl up into fists, and he rubs them against the surface of his worn jeans. "When she met Adam, she gave up everything for him. She became a different person. Irritable and angry. Self-indulgent and vengeful. That boy ... I know he's your dad, but he had no right to bring out that side of her. To make her hurt so much."

A frown mars his face. "Honestly, Carter, it seems like you were the thing that did some good in her life, after he took his toll. She made such a hard decision for herself and for you, but I couldn't stand by and watch her continue to be miserable, to watch Adam continue to ruin her life even after he was dead."

He means me. I ruined her life.

Patrick fiddles with a small tear in the knee of his jeans. "Now that you're here, I can see that was a mistake. Just because Adam didn't treat her well ... Well, we thought you would grow up into someone similar. Someone like him, and ... We thought our choice was the better one, to be done with him forever." He lets his voice trail off.

How can one person possibly tear a family apart? Be Adam Ortese.

"But why cast her out? Why make her life harder instead of supporting her? It doesn't make sense." It's strange, because Mom never talked ill of her parents. She told me facts, not her own opinions, almost like she was wistful.

"We tried." Patrick lets out a gruff back of a laugh. "I took your grandmother to the natal ward, and she looked in at you. There was so much love in that first glance, but as recognition dawned on her. Your hair, your face, even the shape of your eyes—you looked so much like him. She couldn't do it. It broke her heart all over again."

"I'm not my father," I growl.

"No, you most certainly are not. He never had the courage to sit down with me and talk to me himself."

"And I don't think you should take it out on Mom anymore. It was her choice to keep me. Just because she didn't do what you thought was right, doesn't mean her decision was a bad one for her. She had to live with the consequences."

He shakes his head. "I didn't mean to imply that you were a consequence."

I shrug. "Either way, I would have been one. If she got rid of me like you wanted, there would have been the emotional burden. And by keeping me— Well, you know how that went."

He winces again, face scrunching. "You sound callous when you talk like that."

"I think I'm being honest."

Patrick sucks in a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Carter. We always wanted our little girl to have children of her own. We always wanted to support her, but we couldn't at the time. It felt wrong." He blinks a few times to rid the water forming in his eyes. "She told me she was going to make something great out of something tragic." He nods to himself and a thin smile curls up the corners of his mouth. "I'm finally seeing what she meant."

- - - - - 

This was a hard chapter to write. I wanted to get the dialogue between Patrick and Carter just right, and I still think it could use some tweaks. What are your thoughts?

Stay tuned for Emma's chapter coming up next!

Is anyone participating in NaNoWriMo? I'm going to be working on the sequel to In a Blue Moon. Excited for next month!