Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Twenty-Five

Darren

I forcemy mind to catch up to what just happened. All these months, we’ve been nurturing a fake relationship for the sake of my parents, and in less than five seconds, it’s over. He just left me hanging. I stare at the closed door. Vance is a quiet man, but if there’s something he has, it’s boundaries. And what am I supposed to do now?

For a second, just a second, I’m upset at him for leaving me with my parents, until it hits me that he was furious. It takes me one moment too long for things to sink in. This wasn’t about me. It was about my father’s attitude and the way he treated Van.

This is the first time I’ve seen Vance raging. That was angry, not some confused emotion that he masks with fury. I wish I could blame this on my parents, but I can’t. It’s my fault because I let things get this far. Sixteen years too far. I understand why my father is upset, but that doesn’t make his behavior okay. He took things too far because I’ve let him push me for years. For a long time, I’ve pretended to set boundaries, but did I set any?

No.

I let them do whatever they want because I feel like I need to pay for something that happened years ago. Their behavior is like a punishment for being stupid, or a reminder that I don’t want to be in a relationship. It’s been sixteen years, and I’m still letting my family push me around. I’m here because I can’t take it anymore, but now they’re in my house, trying to make decisions for me. Telling me that I’m not mature enough to live my own life. I joke about their behavior, and I always say that I set boundaries, but do I?

“What was that?” he asks before I could ask the same question. He does it right as I’m about to challenge his behavior and ask, ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’ for the first time in sixteen years.

“I don’t understand what you’re referring to—the fact that you judged my boyfriend, treated him like he has no value, or stepped into my life without any respect.”

He glares at me. How dare I speak to him in that way. “Did you see how he talked to us? He was disrespectful.”

“No. He told you to back off,” I correct him.

He looks at my mom and says, “You can’t possibly think it’s okay to be with a man like him. He’s aggressive and an alcoholic. I’m not bailing you out of this one, Darren.”

“Funny that you mention that because we’re not together. We were never together,” I say the last sentence so loud it rattles the entire house. “It was just another scheme so my mother would leave me alone because she still thinks I’m too stupid to choose a partner.”

Mom gasps, pressing her fist to her chest. If she were wearing pearls, she’d be clutching them. The scandal.

“This is a stupid cycle. Mom wants me to be happy again because someone hurt me badly. You want to make sure that I never fall in love again because…why is it you think I should stay single?”

“It cost us millions to get rid of your husband,” he reminds me. “The entire relationship cost me a fortune.”

“You offered us a solution. We didn’t ask for it. You two pushed for it because that’s who you are, a couple of meddlers. You hate when your children make mistakes.” I look at Mom. “I let you fuck with my life because I’d rather you concentrate on me than ruin my sisters’ lives. Stop pushing your agenda on us. Your misguidance affects us. It’s okay to worry about us, but you can’t tell us how to live. You shouldn’t tell us how to live.”

“We’ve always been supportive of you,” Mom claims.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I also hate it. Sometimes, when you think you’re doing something good, you’re actually fucking up my life. I love you guys, but it’s time for you to back off. I moved because I couldn’t continue living under your scrutiny and your manipulation.”

“That was never our intention,” Mom says. “I just wanted to support you.”

“Thank you, but there are other ways to encourage me.”

“If we promise to stop this behavior, would you come back home?” Mom asks, hopeful.

I shake my head. “No. I’m in love with this town. Some people need me. The pay isn’t the same as what I received in San Francisco, but I’m happy.”

“But we miss you,” she whispers, her gaze fixated on the floor.

I don’t know if she’s showing remorse or thinking of ways to convince me that I should go home.

“You miss me, or you miss fixing my life? You have to find a hobby that doesn’t revolve around your children, Mom. We need space.”

My father clears his throat. “So that man, Vance, what is he to you?”

“No one,” I answer, but my chest tightens with those words. Is he really no one to me?

Just as I never set real boundaries between my parents and me, I never allowed myself to have anyone in my life. At least that’s what I thought up until now. I take a moment to think about Vance, the lost boy, the broody man, the protector. Like a movie, every moment we’ve spent together up until the kiss we shared at the bar plays in my head. That kiss, where he claimed me in front of the bar.

That’s not the first time he’s claimed me. He’s done it since the first time he kissed me.

He owns me.

Before today, I realize I’ve never felt this way about another man. The thundering inside my chest rattles me, scares me. Maybe there’s hope for me—for us.

Because I love him.

I love him even during those moments. Those aching moments he can’t stand to feel. Despite my efforts not to care about him, I love him. He did something no one else had ever done before. He got underneath my skin, inside my bones, and not only stole my heart but got ahold of my soul. But what am I supposed to do with this discovery?

“You should leave,” I tell my parents.

“We just arrived,” Mom says. “We want to see you and…”

I stare at her, waiting for more, but after a long minute of silence, I speak, “I think we need some time apart. You have to learn to respect my boundaries. This isn’t all your fault. I should’ve stopped you years ago. I should’ve forgiven myself long ago, but the good thing is that we have time to do it and become a better family.”

Dad glares at me, and I say, “I’ve paid you the medical expenses with interest. I don’t know what else to give you, but you have to stop punishing me.”

“I’m not trying to punish you.”

“Why does it feel like you do? I was nineteen, for fuck’s sake.” I pause and mumble, “I was nineteen, scared, and in love. I never asked for your help, but I regret taking it. Now, if you don’t mind, please leave my house.”

“It wasn’t my intention to upset you,” Mom says.

And it’s infuriating that she doesn’t understand why I’m angry with her. “If you care to save our relationship, go to a therapist. I know I’ll be searching for someone on Monday. I don’t want to be this guy anymore.”