An hour later, with grocery bags hanging from my arms and Adley’s sweet scent still clinging to my body, I climb the three concrete steps to my Dad’s one-bedroom house. It sits at the end of a quiet street filled with other small, modest homes.

I purchased the place four years ago when Dad foreclosed on our childhood home. Had I known there was a problem, I could’ve tried to bail him out. Unfortunately, by the time he told me, the damage had been done, and he needed a place to stay.

Living with me wasn’t an option, and there’s no way I was going to let him mooch off of my little sister, Chloe, which is why I took out a small loan and got him a place of his own. It’s not much, but it’s a roof over his head. He lives close enough to me that I can get here quick if there’s an emergency—but far enough away that he can’t walk to my house.

Well, he could walk, but he’s just too damn lazy, and driving isn’t an option since he lost that privilege years ago after one too many DUIs. Alcohol is his kryptonite. It’s the reason he lost his home, his job, his wife, and I believe firmly that it’s what drove him to discipline Chloe and me with an iron fist.

Discipline is probably too soft a word for the things he did to us. I learned early on that his hatred for Chloe was stronger than his dislike for me. Maybe it’s because she looks like our mother—the woman who walked out, leaving him to care for two kids he didn’t even want.

I was twelve when she left. Chloe was only seven. That night was the first time I threw myself between the metal end of my dad’s belt and my little sister. I couldn’t stop the beatings—they were coming whether we liked it or not. But I would do anything to keep Chloe safe, even if it meant taking the brunt of our father’s drunken rages—rages I’m not even sure he remembers.

On my sixteenth birthday, I got the courage to fight back. Dad was drunk, so it wasn’t hard to overpower him. A right hook to the jaw sent him to the ground, and he was just as stunned as I was. I braced myself for his attack, but it never came.

“About damn time you fight back, boy. At least I know I didn’t raise no pussy,” he said before stumbling off to bed.

Aside from a slap to the face here or there, he never raised a fist to either of us again. The physical scars of our childhood have faded over time, but the emotional ones never go away.

His anger has waned in his old age. Maybe it’s because he knows without Chloe and me he’d be a starving, homeless, lonely old man. Or maybe he’s seeing things a bit clearer with the beer goggles off and a death certificate just waiting to be signed.

Stopping at the door, I take a deep, fortifying breath and glance at my watch.

Twenty minutes. In and out.

I knock twice and open the door. Every light in the house is on, the TV is blaring, and Dad is in his normal spot on the end of the couch. Head tipped back, mouth open, he’s snoozing away. I grab the remote to turn the volume down and walk into the kitchen, wondering if I can get the groceries unloaded and slip out before he wakes up.

Hoisting the bags onto the counter, I unpack them, tucking everything in its rightful spot, knowing he’ll rearrange it as soon as I leave. I’m restocking the lazy Susan when a can of green beans slips from my hand and smacks the linoleum floor.

Dad startles awake, wipes the drool from his cheek with his arm, and glares at me from across the room.

“What the hell did I tell you about sneaking up on me like that? Doesn’t anyone know how to knock? You’re just as bad as your sister. Where the hell is she anyway? Haven’t seen her in days.”

This is how dad talks. Bitch, bitch, bitch with a question or two thrown in there that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer, followed by… Wait for it…wait for it…

“You deaf, boy? Answer me.”

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you. You were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you. Yes, I know how to knock, but what’s the use? You’re too lazy to get up and answer the door. And Chloe is busy with school, which is probably why you haven’t seen her in a few days. Although, it could also be because you’re mean. You make it hard for anyone to want to come see you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I give him a look. “You know what that means. You’re angry, demanding, and rude. We do everything for you—pay your bills, buy your groceries, maintain the house and lawn, make sure you’ve got everything you could possibly need even though you don’t deserve it, and not once have you said thank you. Would it kill you to show a little gratitude?”

“I wouldn’t be so damn crabby if you’d buy me a bottle of Jack.” He nods toward the groceries on the counter. “Don’t suppose you stopped by the liquor store on your way here, did ya?”

Did he even hear a word I said? “No, I didn’t stop by liquor store. Why would I do that when you’ve been sober for a month?”

“Six weeks,” he mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Six weeks,” he yells. “It’s been six damn weeks. Worst six weeks of my pathetic life.”

I glance at my watch. Ten more minutes. In and out. And while I’m at it, I grab my phone. Still nothing from Adley. Dammit. I’m giving her twenty more minutes, and then I’m calling her.

“Just remember what Dr. Pollard said.” I tuck my phone back in my pocket.

Dad grunts, waves me off, and grabs the remote. He turns the volume up, making it impossible to carry on a conversation, which is fine with me.

Four years ago, dad had a little scare. He ended up in the hospital, and Dr. Pollard gave him a grave warning: “It’s alcohol, or your life. Pick one.”

He’s gone through rehab, attended countless AA meetings, and I’ve watched him pour bottles of liquor down the drain. But it never lasts, and there’s no reason to believe it will this time either.

Like every other time he’s quit, I’ve offered to get him help or find him some form of support, but he’s flat-out refused. I have no idea what spurred the change in him this time, and quite frankly, I don’t care.

He’ll either stay sober and enjoy what’s left of his life, or he’ll fall off the wagon and drink himself into an early grave, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Tucking away the cereal, I shut the cabinet door and grab the dirty rag off the counter, along with a string of clothes littered throughout the house.

Dad’s eyes track me across the living room. “I don’t need you to clean up after me.”

Lucky for him, I’m still riding the high of having Adley in my bed, and I’m in no mood to argue, so I don’t respond. I continue to the back of the house, toss the dirty laundry into the washer, pour in detergent, and press start.

Looking at my watch, I smile. Time’s up.

“I’m out,” I say, striding through the living room. “Don’t forget the fabric softener. Call if you need anything.”

Dad grunts the way he normally does. I’m halfway out the door when he switches up our routine and calls out to me.

“Linc?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

It isn’t an easy thank you. His face is pinched as if it physically pains him to say those two words, and there’s a bite to his voice.

I frown. “For what?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t make eye contact. “Everything, I guess.”

“You guess,” I mutter, running a hand over my jaw. “Dad, don’t say thank you if you don’t mean it. And don’t say it because you think it’s what I want to hear. I don’t expect a damn thing from you.”

“Then why the hell do you keep coming back?”

“Because I want to be better than you,” I shout. “I’m trying to be a better person. I’m trying to be better and do better than you and Mom ever did. And maybe…maybe I’m trying to prove Mom wrong.”

Bile rushes up my throat as I remember my mom’s parting words. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Linc. You’ll either be a drunk deadbeat like your father or a whore like me. God bless whatever woman ends up with you.”

Dad’s eyes dart to mine. His face turns beet red, and I see a familiar tick in his jaw. “Get the hell out of my house, boy.”

“Gladly.”

I shut the door between my past and present and curl my hands into tight fists on the front porch. I’m wound tight and ready to brawl, and since Adley’s pussy isn’t readily available for me to relieve some tension, I drive to the only other place that brings me peace.