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You wanted to be our son, so step up to the plate, Nathan.
Such a waste of money, that surgery.
Never should’ve let your mother talk me into it.
He takes in a sharp breath, Sean’s voice still echoing in his ears. It’d been years ago, before he got into Blackwell. Sometimes he still remembers it like it’s still happening. He slides a hand up his shirt, rubbing along his chest scars. He didn’t want to be their son, he was their son. He closes his eyes tight, takes in a breath. He’s too sober to deal with this.
If I had a real son, he’d take over the family business.