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He laughs. “This ismyfamily. You may have already turned my son into a pervert, but I won’t let him raise my granddaughter like this. Abby, come to Grandpa.”
She trembles behind me, and my teeth clench together in rage as I stare at him. I’d like to break his nose right now for even talking to her, but I don’t want to scare her. Instead of walking toward Truett, I back Abby up toward the house.
In my periphery, I notice neighbors watching, and I wonder if they’re calling the police already.
“Stay by me, Abby,” I say softly.
“I’m scared,” she whimpers.
“You think you can keep my granddaughter from me?” he shouts. “I’ll have the police take you away.”
“You’re drunk, Truett. Why don’t you go home now?” I say, struggling to keep my cool.
He’s advancing on us, and I keep waiting for him to attack. I’m not worried for Abby’s safety because I know I’ll have his face in the cement before he lays a hand on her. But I don’t want it to get that far.
“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, throwing another slur at me that I try not to react to. “Abby, come with Grandpa,now.” His voice booms with his anger, and I lose it.
Shoving Abby farther behind me until she’s in the garage, I step toward Truett. Pushing my chest against his, I get in his face.
“I don’t want to bloody your drunk ass right here for her sake, but if you yell at her again, I swear I will.”
“Are you threatening me?” he replies with a sneer. His breath reeks of bourbon.
When I notice red and blue lights down the street, I turn my attention away from him for a split second, and he takes it as his opportunity to act. He lunges toward Abby, and she screams in fear.
It’s bloodcurdling, a sound I’ll never forget as long as I live.
I tackle Truett to the ground with the force of hatred built up over a decade. He lands hard against the concrete of the driveway. As I stare down at his ugly face, thinking about everything he’s done to Isaac, I want to pummel my fist against his face. I’d like to feel the way his nose cracks or hear the way he cries in pain.
But Abby is crying, and I refuse to be the reason she cries any more.
The cops ambush us, making her scream again as they haul me off the old man’s chest. When one of them tries to bind my wrists behind my back, I just see Abby crying in the garage. Tears are streaming down her face, and I shout at the officer behind me.
“Wait! I live here!”
“Dean!” Abby shrieks.
“Sir, calm down!” the police officer shouts, but all I see is Abby. She’s so scared and alone, and I can’t stand it.
“Please, that’s my little girl!” I scream.
It takes the cops a moment to register that I’m not the one trespassing here, and they release my wrists. I bolt across the driveway and yank Abby into my arms. She wraps her whole body around me while she sobs into my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I mumble as I stroke her back. “It’s okay. We’re all right. I’ve got you.”
Over and over, I repeat those words, mostly to comfort her but also to comfort myself. We’re all right. Everything is going to be okay.
Everythinghasto be okay.
Forty-Eight
Briar
When we turn into our neighborhood and see the police car parked in front of our house, I let out a scream. “Caleb!”
He gasses it to our front yard, and it’s nearly impossible to make sense of what I’m seeing. My eyes only look for one person—Abby.
I bolt out of the car before it’s even in park, and when I spot Dean on the front porch with Abby wrapped around his neck, I take off in a frantic sprint.
