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“Please…” I shook my head, ready to plead. “Please don’t.”
We approached my house, and I grabbed my bag and flute off the floor.
“Stop here,” I told him.
“I’m not afraid of your brother, Em.”
“Please just drop me here,” I bit out. “Stop the truck, Will. Please.”
“Okay.” He quickly pulled over to the curb, sliding behind Mrs. Costa’s Buick.
I opened the door, but he grabbed my hand.
I looked at him over my shoulder.
“I’ll be right here,” he said. “At seven.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if saying no again would do any good, but I just took my stuff and jumped down from the cab.
I met his eyes once more before I closed the door and then jogged down the sidewalk, turning up my walkway. I looked around for anyone who might’ve seen us, but thankfully, it was late and the street was quiet.
I climbed my steps and twisted the door handle, my heart dropping a little because that meant Martin was still up.
I stepped inside and heard Will’s truck finally pull off, breezing past my house. I closed and locked the door, my lips twitching with a smile.
He actually waited until I was inside to leave.
Dishes clanked in the kitchen, and I dropped my bags to the floor, heading in to face the music. I had no idea how late I was, and I hadn’t checked my phone for missed calls.
Hands in my jacket pockets, I stopped just inside the dark kitchen.
Martin stood at the sink, pre-washing dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. He turned his head, eyeing me over his shoulder.
“Dinner is there.” He gestured to the plate on the table.
But I rushed up to his side instead, taking the plate out of his hand. “I can do it. You worked all day.”
He let me take over, grabbing a towel and drying his hands as he stepped away. I took the dish brush and scrubbed the crust from our breakfast this morning.
“You know,” he said. “Funny thing. When you didn’t make it home by ten, I tracked your phone.”
I faltered, feeling the hair on my arms rise. He could track my phone? How long had he been doing that?
“It told me that you were at the Cove.” He walked away and leaned against the counter, his eyes on me. “Funny thing is, the Cove closed at eight tonight, and when I drove out there, all I saw was Will Grayson’s truck in the parking lot.”
I rubbed circles on the plate, pressing hard so my hands wouldn’t shake.
“I support your education, Emory,” he told me, “your extracurricular activities, and your projects, because I want you to make something of yourself, and I know that all looks good on your college resumé.”
I put the plate in the dishwasher and picked up another one, avoiding his gaze.
I wished I was still in Will’s truck.
“And while you’re off playing, I’m working or I’m here.” He inched closer. “No woman wants me with you in this house. No one wants me because I can never give her the Thunder Bay life, because I’m paying for Grand-Mère’s nurse and for you.”
He stopped at my side, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I washed the dish.
“And you’re off playing,” he said, pushing me in the head.
