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Mafia?
My eyes widened when he winked at me and walked out of the room. He moved like he was relaxed, as if he was strolling in his home.
I exhaled and left the room, my shoulders more relaxed than before. I didn’t care if some mafia or the guy I had paid killed Drake. I was glad he was dead and rotting somewhere.
One more stop before I could go back to Summer.
My heart felt heavy when I reached the cemetery, a bouquet of lilies sitting on the passenger seat. I held it and forced myself to get out of the car. My legs felt like lead as I made my way through the graves, then stopping at the one that said, ‘Dorothy Moore. A loving mother and superstar.’ I scoffed at how superficial it was.
She was never loving or was ever a mother to either of her children. If she could, she would just be known as a superstar. Not a mother or a wife.
“Hello, Mother,” I said, looking around at the empty cemetery, and sighed. “This scene doesn’t suit you. I’m sure you’d rather get buried on Hollywood streets than here.”
Wind breezed past me, ruffling my tie as I opened the letter she had written for me. I didn’t open it when her will was read because I was a selfish bastard who cared more about her assets than what she had to say.
I had thought of burning it or throwing it in the bin without ever opening it, but I had kept it. For this day.
I took a deep breath and opened it. Clearing my throat, I started reading it, “Damon, my perfect son. I know you wouldn’t believe me when I say this, but… I love you. I always have. It means nothing now, but I’m sorry for abandoning you with those two monsters. You didn’t deserve it.” Tears blurred my vision as my voice broke. “You didn’t deserve what Robert or Drake… what even I put you through. Just know that I never hated you. I don’t know why I’m writing this, but I feel that my end is nearing soon. I hope you will look after yourself and find someone to love other than your work and money. I’m proud of you and I will always be your mother. Love, Dorothy.”
I crumpled the paper as the bouquet slipped from my hand and fell on her grave. Tears slid down my face as I glared at her grave through them. I kneeled down, hiding my face and wishing she was alive, just for a moment, so I could both yell at her and hug her.
“How dare you…,” I said, wiping the tears and glaring at her. “How dare you write shit like this and let Drake and Lincoln get away with everything?”
My voice increased, and all I felt was anger. “How dare you make Emma go through the same shit I suffered through! Do you know how many times I thought of fucking dying?” I was shouting, blaming her for everything. “How disgusted I felt when Drake forced me for all those years—”
I covered my mouth to stop a sob and paced around, angry tears pooling out of my eyes at the flashback of him entering my room and touching me and telling me that it’s what all brothers do. That it was okay.
“You could have listened to me once,” I said, much calmer than before. “Just once. That’s all I asked, but you didn’t. You thought Drake was bullying me and waved it off. And guess what?” I laughed. “He stalked your precious daughter. If you could at least have done something, then only one of us would have gone through the trauma, and Emma would have been fine.”
My nose flared and I threw her crumpled letter at her grave. “Keep these fake apologies and doting words to yourself. You couldn’t say them to me when you were alive, and they don’t mean shit when you are dead. Goodbye, Mom.”
I fixed my tie and walked out of the cemetery.
My phone rang as I strapped my seat belt. I picked it up. “What do you want?” I demanded.
“I saw you at your mother’s grave,” he replied, and I looked around to see there wasn’t any other car than mine. “It was very dramatic, you know. Even for you.”
I clenched my jaw. “Tell me what—”
“That girl of yours, Summer, eh? She’s mighty pretty.”
“I told you to forget about her, Father,” I said, my hand clenching on the wheel. “I’m warning you to stay away from her and forget about us.”
He tsked. “How can I forget such a pretty thing? I thought I should remind you that you’re just like me, son.”
“I’m not.”
“No. You’re incapable of loving someone, Damon. Remember that.” My hand tightened on the steering wheel, my eyes gleaming when he continued. “I called to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye? What? You’re going somewhere?”
I was joking, but he stayed quiet. I straightened up.
“I met her, and she’s a feisty one.” I was about to threaten him and ask him where he was so I could talk to him face to face. “Don’t worry, I don’t care about used goods. I’ll leave you alone. Tell Emma to date someone her age.”
He ended the call. Confusion, shock, anger, and relief flooded through me. I slouched in the seat. Did he mean it, or would he wreak havoc again and try to—
My eyes landed on the scrunchie. Bright yellow. Summer had used it to tie her short hair in a ponytail, and I had removed it when she fell asleep on the passenger seat.
