Read Online Make It Right by Megan Erickson - Free Book Online

engine of a truck rumbled into the driveway.
    “Old man’s home,” Cal said.
    “How is he?” Max asked.
    Brent shrugged. “A downright bastard.”
    Heavy footfalls sounded up the stairs from the garage to the living room and then the door creaked open. “Hello?” a voice called out.
    “Hey Dad,” Brent and Cal answered right away.
    Max grunted and swirled the remaining sauce on his plate.
    Jack Payton strode into the kitchen, greasy overalls covered by a heavy Carhartt jacket.
    He threw his keys on the kitchen table and crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance. “Saw your cars outside. Now you’re in here eating my food. What’s that about?”
    Cal jerked his chin toward the back door. “You said the ice storm brought down your tree. We took care of it.”
    Jack’s eyes flitted over his two older sons before landing on Max. “What are you doing here?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Cal just answered that, Dad.”
    “Don’t give me attitude,” he grunted, taking off his coat. He grabbed a plate from his cabinets and filled it with spaghetti and meatballs. He took a seat across from Max at the table.
    Jack was a big man, six feet, twenty thousand inches tall. He smoked about a pack and a half a day, so his teeth were stained and the smell had likely seeped into his bones. Sometimes Max thought Jack’s organs were nicotine ash by now.
    As soon as his plate was clear, his dad pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit up at the table. On his first exhale, he said, “Where’d you get the food?”
    “Your kitchen,” Max answered.
    “You’re welcome,” his dad said.
    Max didn’t answer. He didn’t expect his father to thank him for cooking dinner.
    When Jack was finished with his cigarette, he rose from the table. “Clean this up,” he said to no son in particular. When he passed by Max’s chair, he tapped him on the shoulder with two fingers. “Cooking was good.” Then retreated into the den with a beer.
    Brent and Cal rose to take care of the dishes but Max sat frozen, the tap of those fingers echoing through his body. A weird sensation flitted over his skin and it took him a minute to realize the cause of it was his dad’s compliment.
    After the kitchen was clean, his brothers followed their dad into the den. Max didn’t want to. He wanted to go back to his town house. Hell, writing a paper was better than this. But that would be awkward—to leave when his brothers didn’t—so he sucked it up and joined his family.
    The news blared from the TV and as Max sank into the couch, the anchor began to talk about the assaults on campus. A reporter stood outside the hospital, “reporting live” and Max zeroed in on the same doors he walked through last night.
    Max fidgeted with a tear in the microsuede of the couch as the report centered on the injuries of the victims.
    When it was over, his dad turned to him. “If those guys tried that with me, I’d take ’em all out.”
    There was no Do you know anyone affected ? or Be safe out there , or Watch your back . Nope, his fifty-two-year-old dad just professed the ability to take on three young guys at once. “Sure, Dad.”
    “You have to fight back,” he continued. “I think if I’ve taught you boys anything, it’s that. Fight back.”
    That was the truth. It was ingrained in Max’s brain. Like second nature to hit back when he was hit.
    “Oh, and I don’t need you Sunday,” Jack said to the TV.
    Max glanced at Cal and Brent. They looked back at him and shrugged.
    “Who are you talking to, Dad?” Cal asked.
    “All three of you,” he grunted.
    Max stared. He worked every weekend for his dad at his mechanic’s shop. He hated it and he hated knowing he’d be working there after graduation. But his dad paid half his tuition and said he needed him to get his business degree so he could take care of the books. His brothers had never gone to college, so Max considered himself lucky he’d even had the opportunity.
    Too bad