The Story of You: The Lost Brothers Series by S. Legend

Author:S. Legend [Legend, S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Silas ~ November 1986 - February 1987

The second coincidence in finding Darius was thanks to Father’s alcohol abuse.

I’m not sure the internet would have helped with finding Darius, but it would have made things easier. I spent weeks making phone calls and canvassing for information when I was out with Oliver, but my first breakthrough wasn’t until Father came home drunk.

He’d been kissing someone. Probably more, but that was my young thought. I was so innocent once upon a time. His shirt was open—three buttons undone—and ruffled, which was unlike him who preferred everything he wore to be crisply pressed and tidy. He was still beautiful with his dirty blond hair falling over green eyes. Father had movie star quality. A smooth face and a strong jaw like Paul Newman.

Falling through the door, he smiled at me. “Sye. Make some coffee, will you?” He hiccupped. It didn’t suit him. It made him more human, and I’d never looked at my father as one of those. He was too perfect. Like an angel.

Lucifer had also been an angel once.

I made him the coffee. He stumbled to the chair. I rushed to help him get seated, so he didn’t fall to the floor. He gripped me tight and inhaled long and slow. “You smell good, Silas.”

He smelled good too. Like safety. My heart sped up and simultaneously relaxed.

He wasn’t just drunk; he was out of it, but I wasn’t. I took the chance and pushed him back to the chair. It didn’t register for him that I’d done that. He sat and laughed while I raced to get him water. Then it was me holding a bucket while he puked, wiping his chin off. I tried to coax him to his bed. He insisted he drink the coffee.

Less jubilant, he groaned with his head in his hands, running them through his hair periodically. I thought about leaving him there, but something told me that wasn’t an option, so I leaned my back against the counter and observed his internal struggle.

“I wanted to kill him,” Father slurred.

My brow scrunched and my heart sped up. I knew who “him” was, but I couldn’t make sense of his words. “D-Darry?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “Don’t worry. I didn’t.”

“What did you do?” I said, not believing he’d actually tell me.

Laying his head back on the chair’s high back, he closed his eyes. “A home for boys. They took him without proper pap-paperwork with enough money.”

His body went limp.

No matter what I did, I couldn’t rouse him. I led his body toward the floor and dragged him to the couch. It’s never easy dragging dead weight and with Father, he worked out, so he had heavy muscles. I was a skinny teen. Now that he reeked like vomit and sin, it was easier to leave him. I covered him with a blanket and left him there.

I went to bed happy. I had something. A place. No name but it was something to work with.

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