the kitchen, spilling drops of wine from her overfilled glass.
Uh-oh. Here we go again.
His dad saw her and scowled. “Are you drunk again?”
“What are you gonna do about it?” his mom slurred. “Hit me?”
Taken aback at his mom’s show of rebellion, Dillon took his foot off the first step and waited. His mother never talked back to his dad. And had his dad hit her again? He looked for signs of bruises and saw none. He’d been hitting her more and more lately.
Ever since his dad had joined Grayson’s cult, things had gotten out of control. More and more Dillon felt that he had to watch over his mom. Her drinking was getting bad. The rumors were spreading, too. He was worried she’d be the next one driven out of Cold Plains. There were no drunks here.
“We were supposed to go to the community center tonight,” his dad said.
“Go yourself.”
Curtis was speechless for a moment. Dillon moved a little closer, in case his dad started swinging his fists. His dad was big but Dillon was, too. Not as thick, but almost as tall, and though his muscles were leaner, he was more agile.
“You’re going with me.”
“I’m staying right here with my bottle of wine. It’s a lot more entertaining than you are.”
“You will not! Now do what I tell you and go gargle with something.”
“I’m not your daughter, I’m your wife, so stop ordering me around. I’m staying here, and I’m drinking!”
“You need those seminars more than I do. You’re turning into a drunk! You’re starting to ruin our reputation.”
“Good, then maybe we can get our old lives back,” she slurred some more.
His dad started to storm toward her, fists clenched and his big body intimidating. That’s what had always made Dillon cower. But not anymore. He stepped in his dad’s way and planted his hand on his chest, stopping him.
“You got a problem?” his dad challenged, looking down at Dillon’s hand and back up again.
Dillon had reached his limit. No longer could he stand by and watch his dad beat his mom. Once smart, happy, loving and beautiful, now she was a shell of that woman. Unhappy. Dull. Cringing in fear of her husband. They both cringed in fear of him.
No more.
His dad pushed his shoulder, giving him a jerk. “I asked you a question, boy.”
Dillon stepped right back up to his dad. “Yeah, I do have a problem. And it’s you!” He shoved his dad, sending him a stumbling backward.
Astonished, his dad stared for a few seconds, and then recovered with an angry furrow shadowing his cold brown eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“If you want to keep going to those stupid seminars, go alone.”
Rage contorted his father’s round, pudgy face. “Don’t you talk back to me like that!”
“I’ll talk to you any way I like.”
His dad stepped closer. Dillon didn’t back down. The fear he’d always felt for his abusive father was gone now. He didn’t move an inch and met his father’s angry eyes dead-on.
“It’s good for her to go to them. She’s drinking too much.”
“Maybe she drinks to put up with you.”
Once again astonished, Curtis replied, “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m sick of you and I’m sick of watching you let Samuel Grayson treat you like a pawn. You’re letting him run your life. He’s manipulating you. Can’t you see that?”
“Samuel made this town what it is.”
“A circus? Yeah, he sure did.”
Trigger-quick temper flaring, his dad raised a fist that Dillon caught in one hand. He squeezed hard. He stumbled back again.
“I’m not a little kid anymore,” he growled. “I won’t let you hit me or my mom.”
That caused a flicker of doubt to test the coldness in Curtis’s eyes. Coldness won. “You were always a disappointment. I should force you to go with us to those seminars. Maybe ask Samuel to give you a few private lessons. It would do you some good. Look at you. You have no ambition to succeed in life. You don’t have a job and your grades
Uh-oh. Here we go again.
His dad saw her and scowled. “Are you drunk again?”
“What are you gonna do about it?” his mom slurred. “Hit me?”
Taken aback at his mom’s show of rebellion, Dillon took his foot off the first step and waited. His mother never talked back to his dad. And had his dad hit her again? He looked for signs of bruises and saw none. He’d been hitting her more and more lately.
Ever since his dad had joined Grayson’s cult, things had gotten out of control. More and more Dillon felt that he had to watch over his mom. Her drinking was getting bad. The rumors were spreading, too. He was worried she’d be the next one driven out of Cold Plains. There were no drunks here.
“We were supposed to go to the community center tonight,” his dad said.
“Go yourself.”
Curtis was speechless for a moment. Dillon moved a little closer, in case his dad started swinging his fists. His dad was big but Dillon was, too. Not as thick, but almost as tall, and though his muscles were leaner, he was more agile.
“You’re going with me.”
“I’m staying right here with my bottle of wine. It’s a lot more entertaining than you are.”
“You will not! Now do what I tell you and go gargle with something.”
“I’m not your daughter, I’m your wife, so stop ordering me around. I’m staying here, and I’m drinking!”
“You need those seminars more than I do. You’re turning into a drunk! You’re starting to ruin our reputation.”
“Good, then maybe we can get our old lives back,” she slurred some more.
His dad started to storm toward her, fists clenched and his big body intimidating. That’s what had always made Dillon cower. But not anymore. He stepped in his dad’s way and planted his hand on his chest, stopping him.
“You got a problem?” his dad challenged, looking down at Dillon’s hand and back up again.
Dillon had reached his limit. No longer could he stand by and watch his dad beat his mom. Once smart, happy, loving and beautiful, now she was a shell of that woman. Unhappy. Dull. Cringing in fear of her husband. They both cringed in fear of him.
No more.
His dad pushed his shoulder, giving him a jerk. “I asked you a question, boy.”
Dillon stepped right back up to his dad. “Yeah, I do have a problem. And it’s you!” He shoved his dad, sending him a stumbling backward.
Astonished, his dad stared for a few seconds, and then recovered with an angry furrow shadowing his cold brown eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“If you want to keep going to those stupid seminars, go alone.”
Rage contorted his father’s round, pudgy face. “Don’t you talk back to me like that!”
“I’ll talk to you any way I like.”
His dad stepped closer. Dillon didn’t back down. The fear he’d always felt for his abusive father was gone now. He didn’t move an inch and met his father’s angry eyes dead-on.
“It’s good for her to go to them. She’s drinking too much.”
“Maybe she drinks to put up with you.”
Once again astonished, Curtis replied, “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m sick of you and I’m sick of watching you let Samuel Grayson treat you like a pawn. You’re letting him run your life. He’s manipulating you. Can’t you see that?”
“Samuel made this town what it is.”
“A circus? Yeah, he sure did.”
Trigger-quick temper flaring, his dad raised a fist that Dillon caught in one hand. He squeezed hard. He stumbled back again.
“I’m not a little kid anymore,” he growled. “I won’t let you hit me or my mom.”
That caused a flicker of doubt to test the coldness in Curtis’s eyes. Coldness won. “You were always a disappointment. I should force you to go with us to those seminars. Maybe ask Samuel to give you a few private lessons. It would do you some good. Look at you. You have no ambition to succeed in life. You don’t have a job and your grades
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