Teagan
"Pass the milk, Teagan," Max grumbled during breakfast Sunday morning as he stirred his mug of coffee with a spoon. "Today if possible."
We were sitting opposite one another at the kitchen table. Max was testing my patience – and he was also marginally closer to the milk than I was – and he damn well knew it.
Reluctantly, I shoved the carton an inch closer to my uncle and I did so with as little enthusiasm as humanly possible before resuming my post of ignoring the enemy.
The jackass had grounded me for the duration of my Christmas holidays – and had even taken two weeks leave from work to observe me. The stipulations of my punishment included not leaving the house, no sleepovers, and the confiscation of my car-keys, phone and laptop. Max also made it perfectly clear that I was to have absolutely no contact of the physical form with the boy next door, be it fighting or fondling – his actual words.
So I'd basically spent the past two weeks staring out the window longingly. I hadn’t seen Noah since that night and the only thing keeping me slightly sane was the fact that he'd knocked on my front door every single day. I thought it was pretty great of him considering Max always answered and hurled abuse at him. But Noah always told him the same thing; you can try to keep her from me, but I'm not going anywhere…
On the upside, Max's emergency leave was up and he was due back at the hospital today.
On the downside, the tension between us now was palpable and I knew in my heart and soul that we'd lost a part of our relationship that could never be repaired or replaced…
I was mentally counting down the minutes until Max left for work. I didn’t want to be around him anymore – not since the words 'I have absolutely no intentions of wasting my life raising another kid that's not mine' came out of his mouth two weeks ago. Betrayed didn’t even begin to explain how I felt around him now.
"For a girl who turned eighteen last week your behavior is incredibly juvenile," Max muttered and I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from shouting out a string of F-bombs that would only prove how juvenile I truly was.
"No need to remind me about my fabulous eighteenth," I replied sarcastically. "It was such a joyous occasion." Not really, since I spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself.
"I'm due back at work today," he said. "But don’t for one moment think that changes the stipulations of your punishment…I'm speaking to you, Teagan," he snarled in a condescending tone and I snapped.
I'd had all I could take.
"I'm eighteen now, Max," I hissed, glaring across the table at the man I'd once worshipped. "And luckily for me that means you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore."
"While you're living under my roof I do," he shot back, cheeks flushed.
"Maybe I should move back home and live under my own roof," I tossed back angrily.
"Well then maybe you should," Max growled before letting out a heavy sigh.
Shaking his head he stood slowly and picked up his mug. "You may not believe this, Teagan, but I'm doing this for your own good."
"Doing what?" I snapped. "Tossing me out on the streets. Gee, thanks a bunch."
Max sighed heavily. "No one is tossing anyone out. Teagan, all I'm trying to do is protect you from making the same mistakes your mother did," he told me. "With that waste of space."
My hackles rose. "Patrick Connolly may not be your cup of tea, Uncle Max, but he's still my father – my flesh and blood."
I hated my dad for what he'd done, for the absolute fucking agony of not having my mother in my life every day, but he was still my dad. The bond was still there, buried deep, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to sit here and listen to Max talk shit about him. And comparing me to my mother was just sick.
"And he's still the reason your mother is in a grave," Max spat as he stalked towards the door. "Four years today, Teagan. December thirty-first that man you call your father put my sister in her grave." He let out a shaky breath. "Don’t make the same mistakes she did… seeing that boy could put you in yours."
"Noah is a good person," I all but screamed as tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t need Max reminding me what day it was. I was fully aware New Year's Eve was my mother's fourth anniversary.
"Ask Noah who his father is," Max snarled. "Or better yet, ask him what price is on his head."
"I know who his dad was," I shot back, furious. Closing my eyes, I inhaled slowly and tried to keep calm. "I know enough about him to know he's who I want to be with."
The sound of the front door slamming provided me with a miniscule amount of relief though the damage was done and I felt truly shattered.
Climbing to my feet, I hurried up the stairs and reached my bed before the tears flooded me.
Dammit, I hated New Year's Eve…
****