by May Dawson
But this time, he was. He stood in the doorway, radiating anger, and he held out a thick, hard-backed, glossy book with two hands.
Fuck.
It was one of my textbooks, not something he’d usually take from me. I’d taped an envelope into the inside back cover. Whenever he sent me into a store with his debit card, I’d buy two of something, return one immediately after, and pocket the change.
“Where’d you get the money from, Piper?” he asked, his voice warning.
“I’ve been saving up,” I said.
“Don’t lie to me. Did you steal from me, or from someone else?”
“I had birthday money.” I met his gaze steadily, letting him see my fear but trying to look innocent.
“There’s eighty dollars here.” His teeth were clenched, and he emphasized each word, like a bomb dropping between us.
“I get twenty dollars from Grandma every holiday.”
“She doesn’t send you twenty for President’s Day, Piper, and that’s the only way you’d have this much money saved up. If she sent you money every Monday you had off school.” His voice was acerbic. “What else am I going to find in your room? Is there more?”
“No,” I promised softly.
He reached into his pocket and drew out a hot pink pencil case, one I’d stashed in one of the bins that sat on my bookcase. My heart sank as he unzipped it and shook a handful of crumpled ones and fives into his hand. “How’d you get this?”
“Just change when I do our laundry,” I said.
“Then it’s my money,” he said. “You’re stealing from me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “It was just change. Stuff no one would miss.”
He closed the distance between us, and I caught one look at his face—his icy blue eyes, the tight fury etched in the lines around his eyes—and looked down, avoiding his gaze.
His voice was ice-cold, not hot like usual. “It’s not just change to me. It’s what it means, Piper. I can’t trust you, can I?”
“I’m sorry,” I started to say again, but his hands were already on my shoulders.
He shook me so hard my teeth rattled together, the world spinning. I tried to keep my balance, but he shoved me away, and I stumbled backward. I hit the side of the Lexus, catching myself with my hands against the smooth paint job.
His hand whipped across my face—the pop startling me more than it hurt—and then a second time, and then a third, and by then it did hurt, a lot. My ear popped and then sound faded for me, my father’s voice suddenly soft. The fourth smack wasn’t so loud, but my cheek burned and my teeth ached from slamming together.
He didn’t usually hit me in the face—he needed for Maddie and me to look pretty and speak nicely and make him look good—but he was losing control.
And that was terrifying. He never meant to hurt me badly, but sometimes it happened anyway. One time, when I was a kid, he shoved me down the stairs, and I broke my arm. He’d been so furious at me that he’d refused to talk to me afterward, and it had only been hours after that he came and picked me up, cradling me against his chest, and put me gently in the backseat of the car for the ride to the hospital. And he’d told me what to say, and I’d said it.
Now, his fingers were in my hair, and I rose onto my tiptoes, trying to keep him from jerking out the roots as he dragged me across the garage. He pushed me against the side of his old Mustang—and a small crazy part of me thought, did he really just relocate me to a cheaper automobile because he doesn’t want to beat the shit out of me against the Lexus—before his belt whipped against my thighs. I tried to push back, but his forearm dug into my shoulder blades, pinning me to the car. Don’t fight back, don’t fight back. Just let it be over with.
Then he was on top of me, shoving me to the ground, pinning me against the cold concrete floor. He sank all his muscular weight against me. He was so heavy I could barely draw a breath.
He hit me in the face, and the world turned red. I thrashed, getting an arm free, and struck out at him, but the hit didn’t connect. I knew better than to fight back, but sometimes instinct took over.
Then suddenly the weight was off me. I scrambled to my feet, my vision clearing, although my ears hummed so loud that I could barely hear anything else.
My father was splayed across the metal shelves at the back of the garage as if he’d been flung there. Then suddenly he stumbled forward, falling to his knees. He caught himself, his hands taking the impact, and groaned.
When he looked up at me, his eyes were full of rage.
I ran for the door to the house and grabbed the keys that hung on the hook just inside by the kitchen cabinets, then slammed my shaking palm against the garage door button.
His eyes widened in understanding, and he started to climb to his feet, but he favored his knee and it took him a second as I ran to the front door of the Mustang, putting the car between us. He launched himself toward me, but he had to come around the trunk of the car, and I was already slamming the door shut, frantically hitting the lock button. His hand slammed into the window, making me jump. My hands shook as I stuck the car key into the ignition.
“Don’t you do it,” he said, warning me. He grabbed the door handle, and my breath caught in my chest, but the door didn’t open.
The rolling door to the garage opened slowly. I tried to put the car into drive, but it wouldn’t go. My father abruptly turned away, heading for the house. Fuck. There were spare car keys there, and he could also close the garage door on me. The brake! I had to put my foot on the brake. I did, yanking the car into drive, and the car rolled forward under the still-opening door. I thought I was going to hit the door, but the rattling door rose over the windshield, and then I was out. The car rolled slowly down the driveway to the dark street ahead.
My father came running out, chasing after me. I tried to focus on getting the car moving forward, my feet slipping on the brake and pedal, but I couldn’t stop looking at the rearview mirror. He came to a stop, watching me go, and even from here I could see his eyes glittering with fury. I turned from our driveway onto the street, aware he’d gone back into the garage. Maybe he was giving up. Or maybe he was getting one of the other cars to follow me.
I hit the accelerator, and the car leaped forward. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. My dad kept saying I wasn’t ready to get my license, but I’d taken the school driving course, and he’d let me drive a few times. I knew the basics.
Still, if he called the cops, I was driving without a license. And had stolen his car.
But he probably wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t want to air the family dirty laundry.
I reached a stoplight as I drove through town, and I glanced in the rearview mirror again, sure he’d be right behind me. He wasn’t, but my face in the mirror caught my attention. My cheek and eye were swollen, beginning to bruise already. I looked awful. He wouldn’t want anyone else to see me like this.
I rubbed my hand across my chest. My heart hammered so hard still that it hurt, and I had to calm down. I had to think. Maddie was safe. I didn’t have to go home tonight, but where the hell was I going to go?
The light turned green, illuminating the quiet street. The grocery store was closed, but the 24-hour diner and the laundromat next door was still open. We lived in a quiet town, surrounded by country.
I had to go somewhere my father wouldn’t find me. I checked the gas gauge. I had plenty of gas. Small mercies. A car rolled up behind me, and panic bubbled up in my chest again. But it wasn’t one of my father’s cars. They honked. Right. I lifted my foot off the brake and let the car roll through the intersection, then pumped on the gas. I’d head out of town and just drive the country roads for now. Eventually, maybe I could find a place to park and feel safe enough to fall asleep.
Or maybe I should go to the hospital. Maybe someone would help me. My lips twisted at the thought. I was so close to being old enough to live on my own, but I didn’t think anyone was going to rescue my sister and me.
My father was a powerful man. I figured if I had enough evidence, I could leave home and try to get custody of my sister. I wasn’t going to run away and leave her there, and I wasn’t going to see my sister lost in the foster care system. I could take care of us.
Tears blurred my eyes. If I could take care of us both, then why the hell was I so grateful she was somewhere else tonight? I was letting her down, and I didn’t know how to do any better.
A dog streaked past the front of my car, a blur of white fur. I slammed on my brakes, which threw me up against my seatbelt. My car fishtailed.
The world outside the car revolved. Pine trees, empty road, pine trees again. I clutched the steering wheel for my life.
The car came to a stop. The world was deathly silent.
Chapter 5
Oh my god, did I hit the dog?
I released my seatbelt and threw open the car door. The dome light turned on, illuminating a small stretch of the long country road. I looked back the way I’d come. Was he following me? I hadn’t gotten that far after all. He might well find me here.
My heart rattled in my chest, telling me to get back into the car and drive away. He’d never mean to, but if he got his hands on me, my father might kill me tonight.
The headlights illuminated an empty stretch of the road in front of the car. I could have sworn the car slammed into something when it fishtailed, and I looked for a tell-tale dent. Then I walked in front of the car, still searching.
There was something white on the side of the road, in the bushes, and I ran toward it.
Bright eyes met mine in the dark. The next second, I could make out the figure in the darkness: the enormous white body of a dog, the bright green eyes. It stared at me, whining.
“Sorry boy,” I said. “You’re going to be all right.”
I knelt just out of reach, afraid the dog would snap at me in its pain, but its bright, keen eyes seemed intelligent. It whined again, and I realized there was blood all over the white fur, as if he’d broken his back leg.
“I’ve got to get you to the vet,” I said, and he whined louder. “Jeez. How am I going to do this?”
He was such a big dog. He might weigh damn near as much as I did.
“Hang on,” I told him, before running back to the car. I leaned into the driver’s side and popped open the trunk. My father was an abusive asshole, but he was also practically a Boy Scout in his preparedness. The trunk was always organized neatly with spare blankets, emergency flares, first aid equipment and bottled water. Sure enough, I found a stiff gray wool blanket. If I could wrap the dog up in it, I could hopefully help buffer myself in case he snapped when I tried to pick him up.
I returned to the dog, making comforting noises, and draped the blanket around his shoulders. He looked at me with a look of extreme doubtfulness written across his doggie face.
“Trust me,” I said. “I know I don’t seem that competent based on my driving skills, but I promise. I’m going to take care of you.”
I tried to ease him into my arms, and he moaned.
“What the hell are you doing?” It was a boy’s voice, rough and gravelly and familiar.
I almost dropped the dog as I looked up, shocked.
Kai stood at the edge of the road. His chest was heaving, as if he had been running. I could see the way his chest fluttered with his breaths, since he was shirtless. He had powerful pecs and chiseled abs, surprising for a high school boy. He wore nothing but jeans, and he raked his hand through his dark hair as he stared at me.
“You hit the dog,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“You hit my dog,” he said, and the dog barked at him, as if he was irritated. “You keep turning up, don’t you, Piper?”
“I didn’t mean to hit your dog,” I snapped. “It was definitely not on tonight’s to-do list. Now we have to get him to a vet—will you help me move him?”
Kai came and stood next to me instead, then dropped to my side to examine the dog. His shoulder brushed mine. His naked skin felt hot to the touch, his muscle hard, and something in me stirred at the unthinking way his body brushed against mine. It was just practicality that brought him so close.
He looked his dog over, his movements quick and impatient, then gentle when he touched the dog’s hindquarters.
“It’s broken,” he said.
“That’s why I’m trying to get him to the vet,” I said. “I could’ve told you that.”
He shook his head. “Christ. This night just keeps getting better.”
“I’m having a great night too,” I promised him, irritated by his tone.
His gaze turned my way, and his eyes widened as they met mine. “What the hell happened to you? Were you hurt in the accident?”
“You’ve got a lot of questions,” I shot back, mimicking his complaint earlier in the day.
He took my jaw in two fingers, his gaze steady on my face. My breath caught at his grip on my chin as he examined me. There was something so caring in the touch, even though he was so brusque and rude.
“That wasn’t from the accident,” he said decisively. His tone was raw and angry, and I felt a spike of fear before he suddenly released me. He jumped to his feet. “Come on. I’ll get the dog into the car. It’ll drive, won’t it? You can drive us home.”
“Yeah, I can drive. But home won’t work. He needs a vet—”
“I can do better than a vet,” he told me impatiently. “My uncle’s a doctor. You going to take us or not?”
“Of course I’ll take you.” I’d do anything to undo what had happened tonight.
He leaned forward, scooping the dog into his arms. “Take it easy, dog.”
The dog whined louder, a keening sound that broke my heart, as he lifted it easily off the ground. The dog had to be well over a hundred pounds, but Kai carried it easily to the backseat of the car. I scrambled to open the car door for him, and he bundled the dog into the backseat. Then he slid into the seat too, as if I were their chauffeur. It was the least I could do after that, anyway.
I ducked into the seat and pulled the seatbelt across my lap. “Where am I going?”
“I’ll tell you,” he said.
I put the car into drive and carefully pulled onto the road. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Headlights were coming, in the far distance, and I slammed my foot down on the gas. The car leaped forward.
“Christ!” Kai said again.
“Sorry.” I glanced in the rearview again, looking for the headlights, and met his eyes. They looked black in the dim light of the car, and he stared at my reflection knowingly.
“Since your car still drives just fine, why didn’t you drive away?” he asked.
“I didn’t know if the dog was okay,” I said. “What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have a name. He’s a stupid mutt. I’m not sure we should keep him if he’s going to run off like that.” He rattled the words off, but his tone didn’t quite sound genuine. His words were cruel, but it didn’t seem like he meant them. Maybe I was giving him too much benefit of the doubt, though.
“He’s beautiful,” I said, thinking of the alert, intelligent face and the black-lined green eyes that stood in contrast to the gray-and-white fur.
Kai snorted. “If you like dogs so much, maybe you shouldn’t hit them with your car.”
I didn’t bother to say it was an accident again. What if the dog wasn’t okay? It hadn’t been my fault, but that didn’t take away the horror of that impact, or of the dog groaning, or the way the dog had looked at me for help, as if despite what I’d done, he believed I could help him. I bit down hard on my lower lip, trying to fight back the hot tears that flooded my eyes.
Kai leaned forward, his eyes wide with alarm, and for a second, it looked as if they were full of empathy. “Are you crying?”
“No,” I lied, my voice coming out thick.
“Jesus, girl, you aren’t good enough behind the wheel to cry and drive at the same time!” he said.
&n
bsp; His blunt statement flipped my sadness over to anger, and when I blinked, those tears streaked down my cheeks. My gaze was clear again. “You are an ass, you know that?”
His lips quirked up sardonically. “I don’t owe you anything, Piper. Not even nice. We don’t know each other yet.”
“I try to be nice to everyone,” I said.
“How’s that working out for you?”
His cold words hung in the air.
“Not that great, I guess,” I said. “Since that’s how I ended up meeting you.”
At the insult, his lips widened, his smirk bordering on a genuine smile. “You should be careful who you’re nice to. This world is full of wolves, and worse.”
“Just because you’re nice doesn’t mean you can’t take care of yourself,” I told him.
“You don’t look like you’ve been taking care of yourself, girl,” he said. “Who did that to you?”
I shook my head.
“Tell me.” A low, fierce edge found its way to his voice.
As if he cared. After the way he’d talked to me, so cutting and rude, he must just be recreationally curious. I wasn’t going to shake out all my hurt and agony for his amusement.
“I don’t owe you anything,” I said, repeating his words.
He straightened up, pulling into the backseat. For a second, his eyes met mine in the rearview again. He looked…wounded.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re going to turn left at the intersection. Then slow down…the turn into our property is easy to miss.”
“All right.”
“It’s lonely out there,” he said. “Not a lot of people know our place.”
My father wouldn’t find me there. Kai’s words might have been chilling, another time, but right now it reminded me that I was safe. I’d take my chances with the wolves of the world. The worst danger to me was in bright rooms and big houses.
