Chapter 93

Chapter 93
Dale’s POV

I let out a deep breath as I stepped into the house. It was still a wonder that the front door had opened for me, and I wondered if Dave had been right after all—maybe Mom didn’t hate me.

The sitting room light was dim, but it was too early in the night for everyone to be asleep. Well, with everything that had happened today, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. It simply meant I could get to my bedroom without any obstacles.

“It’s so brave of you to come back here after everything that has happened.”

Mom’s voice shocked the hell out of me as the lights came on. She was seated on the sofa in the far corner of the room, and to my dismay, there was a bottle of brown liquid in her hand. Her eyes rolled a little, and I could see for myself just how much damage I had caused her.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I don’t know what came over me. It was stupid—no, I was stupid—and I’m so sorry for that,” I said, hoping she could see the remorse in my eyes.

“Oh, please. You’re not stupid. I’m the stupid one. I let you get away with a lot of things, and look at what you’ve turned into!” she yelled, waving the bottle in her hand.

I hung my head in shame at her words. She wasn’t stupid. She had raised me with love, but I had let my demons control my life.

There were things about me she still didn’t know—memories I would never be able to erase from my head. It was crazy, and for the life of me, I wished I could confide in her, but it was too late for that.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled after a few long seconds passed.

“Oh, please don’t give me that crap that you’re sorry. I know you. You’re never sorry. You only say that to get me to calm down, and then you go ahead and do something terrible.” She hissed even louder and took a gulp from the bottle.

I didn’t know whether to keep responding or just stay quiet. She was clearly hurt and not in the right frame of mind. I doubted she would even remember any of this conversation when she woke up tomorrow morning with a terrible hangover.

Maybe I should just put her to bed. She might not remember this, but it could be my first step toward making things right.

“Mom, I think you need to go to bed. You’ve had too much to drink. Please, let me take you to your room,” I pleaded, moving closer to her.

“Don’t come close to me!” she hissed, raising her bottle in the air and using it like a shield between us.

“Mom, come on. You don’t look good. You need to sleep. We can have this conversation tomorrow,” I suggested, and that must have unlocked something in her because she suddenly glared at me.

“That’s the thing. I’m so tired of you and everyone else telling me what the hell to do! The men on the board think they can control me, Rice thinks our relationship was a mistake, and you—” she jabbed a finger toward me, “you think you can help me run my life. Nothing I ever do is good enough, and I’m freaking tired of it all!” she hissed, standing to her feet and swinging the bottle at me.

Her movements were sloppy, and I feared she was going to fall at any second. I was too scared to even reach out and hold her. I wasn’t sure how she would interpret that, and I feared that if I tried, my strength would fail me.

“Do you even know how hard I work to give you a good life? Do you know how much I love you? But you—you’re always a constant source of pain in my life, and I’m beginning to hate you for that!” she shouted and threw the bottle at me.

I ducked just in time, and the bottle crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces and spilling its contents everywhere. I heard footsteps, and in seconds, the maids were by her side.

“What happened to her?” the oldest maid asked, looking at me.

I stared at the woman, unsure of what to say. My eyes went back to my mother, who was now unconscious. The force and suddenness of her outburst must have tired her out, causing her to pass out.

“It’s nothing to bother yourselves about,” I said and took her from their grip. “Just clean up the mess here.”

They glanced at me, weighing the truth of my words, but I didn’t waver.

Finally, I guided my mom to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. She was limp from how drunk she was, and this was the first time I had ever seen her like this. Heck, she hadn’t even looked this broken when her twin sister died.

Just as I was leaving her room, I heard her murmur, “I loved you, Dale.”

My stomach twisted painfully. With a heavy heart, I shut the door and walked to the other wing of the house.

My legs felt like lead as I walked. My whole body hurts. It wasn’t just my body—it was my heart, my mind, and even my soul. I was in pain, and it was all because of me. The fact that I was also hurting those closest to me tore at what was left of me.

When I got to the hallway leading to my bedroom, my entire body froze as the hairs on my neck stood on end. I felt her presence before I saw her.

Raising my head, I found her standing beside my door, her eyes looking pleadingly into mine. And for the life of me, I couldn’t bear to look at her.