Page 10 of Brutal Titan

“My future is decided,” I huff, recalling the conversation that drove my father even further away, severing what little relationship we had. In it, my grandpa had informed me of his intentions—Lawrence Bass Industries wouldn’t be passed down to my father. Instead, it would bypass him and be handed to me directly. It was as much of a shock to me as it had been to my father, but since that day, my father has taken it out on me, making any excuse to stay as far away from home as possible. I’d never anticipated the company would be handed to me on a silver platter, so I hadn’t thought much about it at all, but my father absolutely had that expectation; he’d never doubted the company would end up in his hands. Now everything was turned on its ear. I was expected to follow the Bass tradition of attending Vanderbilt, and that part I didn’t mind so much. But being responsible for the company my grandpa built from the ground up, that was more than I’d bargained for, even if he said it would be years before the official transition.

“Your future is what you decide it to be; no one can make that decision for you, Elliot.” Susan’s sternness fades with each word, knowing the resentment I’ve dealt with from my father as she places her hand over mine. “What does your future look like to you? When you think of yourself five, ten years down the road, what do you see? What do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know what I want.” It’s the touchstone of my life lately. I’ve had a hard time thinking about the future since the moment I found my mom facedown on her bedroom floor in a pool of her own blood, wanting to end her life. And she’d nearly succeeded. Thinking she was alone in the house for the night, she hadn’t anticipated that I’d return home to grab a basketball. That last-second decision led me home, and I’d had the feeling that something was off the moment I stepped into the house. It had been eerily still. My mom always had music or the television on, saying that the silence was deafening, and she needed background noise to keep her mind busy. And thankfully the unnatural muteness was so deafening that it caught my attention because the only thing worse would’ve been leaving the house unaware she was slowly bleeding to death. And at first, I’d thought she already had; I’d thought I was too late. A rush of panic surges through me as I recall the horrible memory in extensive detail, just as I have in my nightmares almost every night since.

“Elliot,” Susan’s soft voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “It’s okay to ask for help if you need it.”

I force out a laugh, attempting to joke. It’s my go-to for masking the true torment inside. “Nah, there’s no improving on this perfection.” My million-dollar smile has no effect on her because she’s never bought into my bullshit, and it doesn’t look like that’s changing anytime soon.

“Asking for help takes courage. Even if you don’t think you need it, maybe it could help you sort through everything; give you a real shot at a happy future, not just pretending to be happy.”

Damn it. I hate when she does that, knowing exactly what to say that I don’t want to hear. “There’s nothing to sort out. My grandpa appointed my future. My dad hates me for it and my mom wanted to end hers. That about sums it up … nothing left to sort through.”

“Just promise me one thing, please. If there’s something that seems too heavy to sort through, you call me.”

“I got this. Weight lifting is my specialty.” My humor is lost on her sympathetic stare.

“Promise me, Elliot. If you ever feel like not having a future is the solution, you’ll call me, text me, anything so we can sort through it together. You might be a little pain in the rear at times, but I love you just as I do my own children. I couldn’t imagine a future without your lame attempts as humor.”

“Ouch, Susan. Lame, really?” I genuinely chuckle, knowing that she’s trying to lighten the mood after basically telling me she fears I’ll make the same decision as my mom.

“Promise me, Elliot Bass, or we’re not getting up from this table.”

“I promise,” I utter, intending to keep that promise to her.

Susan pats my hand, happy with my declaration, “I was just about to head out, but I can hang for a while.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m good. I promise,” I reassure her with a sincere smile. “Doesn’t Ava have Meet the Teacher tonight?”

Susan nods. “You actually do listen to me,” she teases, giving me another loving pat on the hand as she stands from the table. “There’s supper in the fridge if you want to heat it up, or you can join us if you’d like. Ava always loves seeing you.”

“I’ve had enough school for the day, but tell her I’ll stop by soon.”

“Will do. She’ll be happy to see you.”

Susan leans forward, giving me a motherly kiss on the forehead before leaving the kitchen to head home to her husband and the grandbaby they are raising. Their cozy home would fit inside of the kitchen I’m sitting in alone. There have been more than a few times I’ve had supper at their house, wishing it was my home instead. I loved sitting around the table having supper as a family, teasing Ava about having a crush on the little boy she was playing basketball with in the driveway, much to Susan’s horror and the delight of her husband. There are times where I feel bad for Ava for being so unlucky in the parental department, but having Susan and Joseph makes up ten times over for it. Oftentimes, I find myself wishing that I wasn’t just at their house as a guest but as an actual family member. It was easy to do though, since that’s exactly how they treated me every time.

Hopping up from the table, I hurry upstairs, stepping into the en suite connected to my bedroom. Tossing my clothes aside, I step into the shower, and let the hot water pelt the tense muscles of my shoulders. I stand under the steaming spray, enjoying the sting of the water as it distracts me from the thoughts swarming my mind. I don’t want to sort through any of them, so I remain in the same position, losing track of time.