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I gestured my fork at his old duffel bag in the chair by the window. “I thought I’d help you pack.” I swallowed the lasagna in my mouth. “You’re gonna text Reese too and let him know you figured out your money problem on your own. You’re gonna apologize for tryna take advantage. And then you’re gonna get the fuck out of here.”

And people said I didn’t talk…

Dad did not like what I had to say. He didn’t have the balls to get too cocky, but he was stupid enough to fake it.

“Now, you listen to me, son,” he told me. “What Reese and I do is none of your concern. He wants to help his old man—I know that’s foreign to you.”

One more forkful of food, and then I was done. I chewed and nodded slowly. “Lemme rephrase. Do what I said, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

He reeled back as if I’d slapped him, and he stared at me in shock.

Good. He was listening.

I cleared my throat and dropped my fork into the container, then shut the lid. Shay hated it when Reese and I misplaced the lids, so he’d started buying ones where the lid was attached. Smart boy.

I left it on the dresser by the window for now.

“Do you want help wordin’ the text?” I asked, grabbing his duffel.

He didn’t have a whole lot lying around—some shirts and jeans… He could pick up his dirty fucking socks himself.

“I don’t know who you are, but you ain’t the son I raised, River.”

I chuckled and threw his clothes into the bag. “You never raised us at all. Ma did. And when she died, you took every chance you could to get the hell out.” I looked over at him and smirked. “You’ve had practice for your last escape. But this time, you’re not comin’ back.”

He clenched his jaw. “You’d risk goin’ to prison for this? To make sure I can’t get the help I need just this once?”

Just this once? That was fucking rich.

“I wouldn’t risk a goddamn toenail for you,” I replied. I aimed for the bathroom in the back. “Nobody’s goin’ to prison.” I found his Ziploc bag with his toothbrush and toothpaste in it, and I tossed it into the bag. His bottle of Old Spice too.

“That’s exactly what would happen if you actually killed your father.”

Nah. I knew who to call, where to go, and how to get away. I wasn’t new here.

“I need that money, River.”

“I don’t give a flyin’ fuck.” I returned to the main room and threw the bag at his feet. “You’ve taken advantage of Reese for the last time, you hear me? If you do come back, you better have your affairs in order.”

The asshole had the nerve to look hurt by my words. Angry, sure, and in disbelief too, but hurt? Get the fuck out of here.

I came to a stop right in front of him, and I held out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

No way in hell could I trust him to write the right words to Reese. Even I didn’t know. In fact, I was eighty percent sure my brother was gonna figure out the message came from me. It all depended on how sucked into Dad’s bullshit Reese was. As in, if Reese hoped hard enough for, what, us to reunite and become a happy family…? If he hoped so hard that he believed anything Dad said.

Dad didn’t say anything, though I could read the expletives on his face. He was burning with each curse—and I saw the desperation in his eyes too. He was in deep shit.

Still, he unlocked his phone reluctantly and handed it over.

“How do you sleep at night?” he gritted out.

“Perfectly fine,” I muttered, going to his messages.

Reese hadn’t responded yet, so I thought briefly about what I’d say and figured this could be a test.

No this doesnt feel right anymore

Dont come over here