He lets go of me with a deep grunt and I back away, breathing hard, hair in my face.
“What thefuck, Z? What are youon?”
He wheezes, clutching his balls, and then he starts to laugh, a deep, unsettling laugh. “I knew you’d find out eventually what a miserable sack of shit I am.”
I should stay mad at him.
I should pour whatever’s left of his beer on his head, tell himthis is it, and that Bruiser and I are leaving him.
If I’m honest,reallyhonest in the deep-down place I don’t let myself look very often, it’s not the first time I’ve thought about it.
In most people’s eyes, this would be the last straw. The prolonged absences, the missed texts. The way I’ve caught him in a lie a time or two, about not being where he said he was.
Okay,morethan a time or two.
He keeps secrets from me. I’m not that stupid.
I always just chalked it up to Z being Z. That it was his way of feeling in control of his life, and that as long as he kept showing up for Bruiser, well… didn’t I know how important it was to have a dad who kept showing up, even if it was a day or two after he promised sometimes?
But this…
If I’m also looking in that deep-down honest place… well, I can tell things have been a little different lately.
The shadows under his eyes have been deeper. His gaze dart away a little quicker when I ask him how his haul went.
And he’s a little faster to pull away and shower after our rough, routine fuck each time he gets home. It’s like he can’t wait to get inside me but is furious about it all at the same time, and then just as eager to get away again.
And I’m the sad sack of shit who’s desperate for any spare ounce of love and physical affection I can get.
Not any fucking more.
He’s not the only one who can wall himself off.
Goosebumps prickle as I feel myself go cold. I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring Z’s clear misery in front of me.
“Talk,” I demand. “Right here. Right now. Or so help me Jesus, I will take Bruiser and we will pack up and leave your ass.”
I see my words impact Z. He flinches like Ihavesmacked him, even though I’m standing perfectly, frigidly still.
“You can’t,” he whispers, eyes downcast.
“Oh I can and I will,” I bite out.
“No, I mean, youcan’t.”His voice breaks, tears spilling fast now. “I fucked up. I fucked up big, Harp.”
He starts banging his head with a fist. “God, I’m such a fuck-up!”
“Stop it, Z! Just tell me what happened!”
“I have a gambling problem. And I didn’t just lose our savings—I took out a line of credit against the shop. I used yourname. I told them we were expanding, that we needed the cash flow?—”
He drags a hand through his hair, shaking. “I thought I could win it back before you ever noticed. I thought I could fix it.”
His eyes snap to mine, desperate. “But I maxed it out. Everything’s gone. The accounts, the savings—everything. And now they want payments we can’t make.”
His voice drops, small and wrecked.
“You can’t leave me because I’m all you have left.”