Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 30: When the Eggshells Clear

A/N: THIS CHAPTER IS THE REASON I HAD TO UP THE RATING OF THE BOOK

You have been warned

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The table was dead silent. 

Unlike our last family dinner, this silence wasn't tense. It didn't have an unspoken weight to it, heavy with all of the things nobody wanted to talk about.

No, this time, it was cold. Cold and taut and fragile in a way that made my heart pound--and not in a good way this time. Everyone was avoiding eye contact with each other, studiously looking at their plates and eating their food without a word; rotisserie chicken and store-bought mashed potatoes, just like last time. This time, they tasted like ash and fear.

It felt like my skin was made of ice and glass. Everything was still. Too still.

My eyes darted from one family member to the next, taking in the way Declan was determinedly sawing at his chicken and scowling at his plate, then looking at Ben and the way he was bouncing his leg under the table and stealing glances at our parents out of the corner of his eye. I didn't miss the fact that my dad was carefully watching Declan with a look in his eyes that I didn't like.

I couldn't explain how I knew, but I could feel my stomach sinking. Something was about to break.

"Pass the potatoes," Declan muttered.

I tensed. He had broken tonight's unspoken rule. What else was about to shatter?

My dad eyed him and slowly slid the mashed potatoes across the table, his gaze discerning.

"So." His words were quiet, measured. Like he was holding the hammer that could bring everything crashing down, and he knew it. 

No one looked at him. No one was moving. We all waited on bated breath to hear what our father would say next. Eventually, he asked, "How's the job hunt, Declan?"

Ben and I both froze. Not this topic again. 

"Same as always." Declan's scowl deepened.

"That's disappointing."

His fist clenched around his knife. "Yeah. Well. So am I, so I guess that makes sense."

My mom's head snapped up from her plate for the first time all meal. "Don't say things like that!"

"Why?" He countered in a dangerously low tone. "You don't like honesty now?"

"Watch your tone," my dad snapped.

"What tone? I'm just talking, Dad. That's how conversation works." Declan sneered.

Ben flinched. I joined him. That was definitely the wrong thing to say, and it only made the tension so much worse. My dad's eyes turned to slits. "Excuse me?"

Declan slowly raised his fork to his mouth and lowered it again, not breaking eye contact with our dad the whole time. His eyes were burning with anger. "You're excused."

"I would be very careful talking to your parents that way if I were you."

"I'm a grown man, Dad," he ground out, "I can say whatever I want."

My brother and father never broke eye contact once as they each took another bite of their chicken, practically ripping the meat off the fork. It was like they were daring each other with their eyes to say something they couldn't come back from. Dad stabbed his chicken. "If you're a grown man, act like it. Move on."