Inevitably Yours
Chapter 82

MICHAEL

George Jones played so loudly that I could hear it through the garage door and into the kitchen in the packhouse. I could hear the melancholy melody as George told the story of a man who loved his wife until they put him in the ground. I knew I should have ignored it, but then I heard the sound of shattering glass. My mom and Tyler were supposed to be gone, but I worried Tyler might have come without me knowing and was into something. He could be hurt, or he could have broken something important; I didn’t know which was worse. My hand touched the doorknob, and I started to turn it even though there was a voice in my head telling me this was familiar and to turn back. I ignored the alarms and opened it. Instead of Tyler, I found Lawrence. He was sitting on a lawn chair in the middle of the garage with a beer in his hand. Several six-packs were lying empty on the ground with bottles askew on the concrete below him. He wore a cowboy hat, cut-off jean shorts, and cowboy boots propped up on a plastic lawn table. He looked ridiculous. To top of the scene before me, he had a shower curtain rod in his hand. Tears were streaming down his flushed face as he mumbled the words of the song blaring from the garage’s sound system. Punctuating the words, he was smashing a box labeled “GLASS FRAGILE” with the curtain rod, spraying pieces of glass everywhere around him. I stepped backward, holding my breath in case he’d heard me. As I started to try to close the door, he looked directly at me.

“Michael!” he shouted, wiping his face. “Where have you been all day? I missed you!”

His words were slurring, and I could smell the alcohol from where I was standing. I wanted nowhere in that room with him, “I was just seeing if Tyler had the music too loud in here.”

“He’s not home,” he said, his smile giving way to a furrowed brow that made him look like a confused child. “Come here!”

He was ushering me over to him as he now stood there in his weird outfit, curtain rod still in hand. I felt myself moving, even though I wanted literally anything else. When I got close, he pulled me into his arms for a hug. He was only an inch or so taller than me, but he pulled my head forward to bury his face in my hair. I could hear him crying again, and he started to sway side to side with the music like we were at a middle school dance. One arm was around my shoulder, the other at my back with his weapon. My skin was crawling, and I had no idea how to leave. I’d rather he hit me with the curtain rod than touch me.

“I love you, Michael,” he blubbered.

I had to repress vomit threatening to escape my throat, “I, uh, love you too, Dad.”

Swaying and turning, sobbing and mumbling the words to the next song that came on. It was never going to end, and I was never going to get out. I felt his arms squeeze around me tighter, darkness began to blur my vision, and I felt like I couldn’t move. My chest was tighter, and I knew I’d never escape.

–

I woke up drenched in a cold sweat. As I pulled my shirt off to throw it in the basket across the room, I looked over at my clock. It was three in the morning. These dreams were coming more frequently now, and I didn’t know if it was because time was slowly crawling towards the challenge or if I was just weak. Either way, I couldn’t stop them. I looked down at my phone, and I realized that Quinn had finally hung up after I fell asleep. I had the usual good night text after, and I wondered if she was still awake. I really hoped not. She’d have to be up for school in just a few hours. I knew it wouldn’t wake her if she was asleep, so I decided to check in on her.

ME

| your not awake

| are you?

Almost instantly, she replied like she was waiting on it.

MATE “It’s because our mate is strong,” Eros chimed in. I couldn’t argue with him there. It just made me smile.

MATE