Moving Forward Read Online Free Page B

it wouldn’t do him any good, and I didn’t want to add to Jamie’s burden by getting myself arrested for assaulting his bastard father.

    “What am I doing here?” I snapped, glaring at him. “You know, I could ask you the same fucking question, Russ, because this sure as hell isn’t where you need to be.” Not wanting to cause a scene, I sat down across from him, and he returned his attention to his shot glass, staring down at it rather than facing me. “Emma and Jamie are trying to organize funerals for Ava and Matt, and they could use your support, but instead you’re here, bellied up to a bottle like the fuckin’ lush you’ve become.”

    Honestly, I didn’t see any reason to pull my punches. Russ wasn’t someone who would respond to gentle reasoning—no, he was a blunt man, and he needed someone willing to be brutally blunt with him. I figured I was up to that task. More than Jamie. My love was a gentle soul. He had already had one nasty confrontation with his father three years earlier, and they hadn’t spoken since, so it was my turn to deal with Russ Truman’s bigoted ignorance.

    For a long moment, neither of us spoke, and I knew Russ was being purposely difficult. “I get that you hate me,” I went on, “and believe me when I say James knows exactly how you feel about him, Russ, but I do know you loved Ava. I think you respected Matt. And I guess at some point, you and Emma were a typical couple in love. Something tells me you still love Emma.”

    “Is there a point to this?” He reached for the bottle, or tried to, but I plucked it from his reach and set it aside, which drew his red-rimmed eyes back to mine.

    “The point is, Emma needs you to be there for her.”

    “She has Jamie.”

    “Thank God for that, but you’re her husband—”

    “We’re separated.”

    It was a weak argument, and I rolled my eyes. “Fine, you’re separated, but you aren’t divorced, and even if you were divorced, Ava was still your daughter, and you owe it to her to be there for her mother.”

    “What makes you a fuckin’ expert?” Russ snapped, snatching back the bottle and pouring himself a shot, which he quickly downed. “Both you and James think you fuckin’ know all there is to know about all there is to know, but….” He laughed, but it was a bitter, hollow, and angry sound. “I don’t need some faggot telling me what I should do and what I shouldn’t do, and I don’t need you preaching to me about what my obligations are to Emma and Ava. I fuckin’ know. I know my daughter is dead, and there ain’t anything anyone can do about it, so why the hell should I plan some damn funeral, huh? Why? What good will it do to sit around and cry? Ava and Matt will still be dead. So don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, ’cause all I want to do is sit here and drink, and if you’re so worried about Emma, you and my fuckin’ fag of a son can handle everything.”

    I shook my head. “Christ, you are so selfish!” I leaned across the table. “Fine. Jamie and I will help Emma. You stay here. Drink and look for answers in the bottom of a bottle, but I’ll tell you this: as soon as you sober up again, the facts will still remain—your marriage will still be in shambles, Ava and Matt will still be gone because a drunk like you decided to drive when he shouldn’t have, and you will still have a son who is a better man than you could ever hope to be, you miserable bastard.”

    Standing, I looked down at him, but he didn’t lift his eyes. “I came here because Emma wanted to know if you were okay, and she had some foolish hope you would finally step up and act like a husband and a father. But I can see you will never be anything more than a tragic embarrassment to your family. It’s sad. And you’re disgusting, and I can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to see you as worthy of my respect.”

    I didn’t give him a chance to respond. There was nothing the bastard could say that