Page 107 of Paper Horses

The front door slammed open, stopping my anger, and my father stalked in. There were no hugs, no shared tears, no words. He walked right past us and up the stairs. His voice remained even, professional, that of a man who held status and power and didn’t let emotions interfere.

When the interlopers left, carrying my mother’s body with them, he shut the door and turned on us. I wanted to scream at him, to plea for him to show some sign that this had devastated him like it had us, but his expression was frigid. His emotions hidden behind whatever walls he had up, the same we had emulated and perfected over the years.

“Why didn’t you call me first?” he said, and I flinched at the accusation in his tone.

Gabe cleared his throat. “I didn’t know what to do. I called Liv first.”

My father stormed over to where he sat on the couch, his hand meeting the tender flesh of my brother’s cheek. I flinched, hiding my reaction quickly before it caused repercussions. Gabe stared at him with cold eyes.

“You call me. Only me. Clean up and wash those tear stains from your cheeks. Men don’t cry.”

He cast a glance at me, anger etched around his eyes, but there was something else shadowed behind it. I didn’t care to search for what it was. Not after he’d hit my brother again, and I braced myself for what was next.

“And you. Did you call the police?”

“I called 911 because my mother was dead on the bathroom floor.”

A tick in his jaw told me my tone had been too sharp.

“You call me. Now I have to deal with the cleanup before this news gets out. You both let emotion cloud your judgment. I expect that kind of sloppiness from you.” I stood taller, keeping myself from showing any reaction. “But you, William, know better.”

He stomped away, complaining about the calls he’d have to make and the mess we’d made for him. I wasn’t sure who the we was. If it included Mama or just me and Gabe. I turned my sight from his stalking form and met Gabe’s eyes. The emotions that battled within them hurt almost as much as this day had.

“Go before he comes back,” I said. He stood, and I saw the shake in his hands as he clenched them. The imprint of my father’s anger still stained his cheek. Hate burned in his eyes. Something passed between us, an acknowledgment, a moment where everything changed. It was formulating in his mind, and I would wait for him to voice it, even if I already sensed it.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping closer to me, and for a second, I thought he might hug me, like when we were younger. I longed for the closeness, the comfort, but it never came. He walked away, his shoulders turned down.

That night, I sat in my room, my back to the wall, my knees drawn to my chest, numbness in my limbs as I called Hudson.

“Hey.” He sounded so happy I wanted to capture it and let it soak into my spirit and remove the anguish that swirled in my body like a helix lined with daggers.

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong?” His tone changed instantly because, out of everyone, Hudson was tuned to my emotions.

“My mother died.” Giving voice to it dug those daggers further in.

“Shit, Olivia⁠—”

“It was an undetected heart issue.” The lie our father had given us earlier after talking to his attorneys. Hudson hadn’t asked for it, but I didn’t want to hear him tell me how sorry he was. He hadn’t killed my mother. She’d done it to herself, but my father had driven her to it.

“I’ll pack and be there by morning.”

God, he was too good for me. My safety. I wanted him here so I could curl into his chest and have him take the pain away. To pretend it hadn’t happened and let him carry the burden for me. But I couldn’t. This was my burden to bear, as was everything I hadn’t told him.

“No, don’t. My father…” What? Was a cold, heartless asshole? “…is too distraught.” I almost laughed as I said it, but laughter seemed an impossible thing, and I suspected it was something I would no longer have. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I’m here, Olivia. Whatever you need from me, it’s yours.”

Take me away. I don’t want to be here.

“Can you just talk to me? Tell me what you did today.”

“I missed you all day.”

“That’s all?”

“It’s been four days. I hate these breaks when I can’t see you.”