“Shut the fuck up, you little shit. You’ll never be anything; you’re too fucking entitled. You expect everything to be given to you. All of you do. None of you work for shit. Yeah, I cheated because I want out!”

“Then leave!” Jace yells and I can see his eyes misting with tears. “We don’t want you here!”

“You little shit,” he yells, and he tries to go at Jace, but I push him away, throwing Jace behind me.

“Do I have to hit you again?” I ask. “Maybe I should just on principle, but that would be disrespectful since my mother has asked me not to. I’m gonna give you two minutes to get the fuck off this land.”

Glaring, he says, “You think you three are something, huh? Think you are going to make me leave? Cold day in hell! This is my house! All of you get out!”

Jayden nods. “Yeah, I know we can make you leave. Go.”

“Yeah, go,” Jace says from behind me, and I nod.

He glares at us, but I know all he sees are three big guys, ready and willing to beat the fuck out of him with years of pent-up anger and remorse. This man has never been a father. Yes, he gave me the gift of life and even the gift of hockey, but not once did he ever love me and nurture me. He was a constant pain in my ass, and I actually hope he doesn’t get in the car and we have to remove him. I have anger coursing through my body, and a fight would help release some of it.

My father opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t say it. Instead he just glares and then he turns to go to his BMW. Knowing that he’s leaving, I turn and head toward my mother. She’s leaning against the door, holding herself as she cries. As I wrap my arms around her, she lets go and basically throws all her weight on me. I take it and slowly lower us to the ground as she cries so hard into my shoulder. Stroking her back, I close my eyes and lean my head against hers.

“I loved him so much, Jude, even when he didn’t deserve it. How could he do this?” she cries and I shrug.

“I don’t know, Mom. I’m so sorry, but you don’t deserve this.”

“How will I make it? I don’t work; I just take care of you kids. He makes all the money.”

“We will figure it out together,” I whisper, kissing her temple. “You are better off without him. I swear.”

She starts to sob harder, and every tear that leaves her body hurts me. I don’t want to see my mom cry, or anyone I love cry, for that matter. Squeezing my eyes tight, I hold her closer and soon tears are falling from my eyes onto her hair. I think she feels them because her arms come around me, and just like that, the roles are reversed, and she’s comforting me like she has my whole entire life. Kissing my temple, she rocks me back and forth as I just lose it. I’ve never cried this hard in my life.

I cry for my mom, for the shit my family and I have endured from that asshole, but most of all I cry for my broken heart and for Claire’s. We thought this was it. We thought we were going to be together forever, but the whole time she was lying. She wasn’t being her whole self to me, and how does someone do that to someone they love?

I have no answers for anything.

I’m just empty.

My chest aches.

My eyes are all gummy and burning from where I have cried like a freaking baby for the last twenty minutes.

My nose is running like a faucet and my throat hurts from the sobs that have been ripping from me.

Along with all that, I just feel cold. Empty. Hollow. Meaningless.

Worthless. I feel fucking worthless.

Pulling into the driveway of my home, I park behind Phillip’s truck and get out, running to the front door. The light is off because, of course, they don’t expect company at one in the morning. Digging in my purse for my house keys, I curse myself for not just leaving them on my car key set. I always get nervous that if I lose my car keys I’ll lose my house key, and then I won’t be able to get into the house to get my car keys. I know; I’m crazy.

And I‘m fucking stupid for lying to Jude.

Frustrated, I cry out, dropping to my knees and dumping my purse on the porch. I shouldn’t be here. I mean, what are they going to do for me? I messed up, I ruined this, and now I have to figure out how to either A: fix it, or B: accept that Jude has every right to be mad at me and probably will never talk to me again.

“Oh, thank God!” I cry out, finding the house key that is on the Assassins key chain, but as I get up to open the door, leaving the contents of my purse behind, the door flies open and Phillip stands there in only a pair of shorts.

“Claire?”

I just stand there, tears dripping down my face, and I suck in a deep breath as my heart breaks all over again. Turning the porch light on, his eyes widen as he comes to me, stepping all over my stuff, but I don’t care.

“Claire, what’s wrong?” he asks, taking my shoulders in his hands. “Are you hurt?”

“He broke up with me,” I whisper, looking up into his face.

“Phillip?” I hear Reese ask, and I don’t know why, but I just break down. Crumpling against Phillip, he holds on to me as I cry so hard it hurts. Like, physically hurts. My body feels as if it has been hit by a Mack truck, my heart just feels numb, broken and everything just feels wrong. How did I let this happen? I knew that he could find out, but I thought he would listen to me, I thought he would understand.

Instead, he dumped me.

Picking me up, Phillip says, “That kid broke up with her.”

“Oh no,” Reese gasps as Phillip carries me into the house and into the living room. Once he lays me on the couch, Reese swoops in, bundling me in her arms, kissing my forehead. “Get her some water.” She kisses my forehead, moving my hair out of my face, and says, “It’s going to be okay, baby. Just breathe.”

Gasping for breath, I bawl into her chest, wrapping my arms around her, needing her love and comfort. I know now why I came here because I needed this. I needed Reese to tell me it was going to be okay. For a long time, we don’t move. Phillip walks around us, checking on me, and occasionally he rubs my back softly, asking me if I need anything. I say no because the thing I need won’t have me. When I’m all cried out and empty of all emotion, I close my eyes and sleep takes me quickly.

The last thing I think of is Jude calling me my mother.

When I wake the next morning, I’m alone on the couch, covered with my favorite One Direction blanket. Reaching for my phone that I find laying on the table, I check to see if I have any messages. I don’t. I check calls; there are none, so then I check Jude’s Facebook, and he hasn’t updated since yesterday. His last status says: