“The hell you will,” my father bellows, and I wince. “I don’t know who you are, but I want you off my property and away from my daughter.”
“Listen, I don’t know how much time we have. If we could all just go inside, I can explain everything.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you in my house,” my dad erupts.
Neither of my parents have magic, but I imagine if my dad did, shadows or flames or faelight would be pouring out of him and directed at Becks right now.
Even though with his size and magic, Becks has the upper hand, he still backs up when my dad takes an aggressive step forward.
“If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the police.”
“Dad, wait. It’s okay. He actually saved me and gave me this.” I hold up the gun I’m still clutching.
My mom’s eyes bug out and my dad lets out a curse I’ve never heard from him until now. Before I realize what he’s doing, he snatches the weapon from my hand. Flipping a switch on the side I hadn’t even noticed, he directs the gun at Becks. His aim is steady.
Becks immediately puts his hands up in front of him, looking far more uneasy than he did when I handled the gun.
“I’m not your enemy,” he says, frustration clear on his face.
“I don’t care who or what you are,” my dad says, his voice cold as ice. “All I know is that my daughter came home tonight battered and bleeding, and you’re the only one with her. I want you gone. Or I will use this.”
“I have something to show you, and if you want me to leave after that, I will. I promise.”
My dad doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t lower the gun either. I’m nervous because I honestly don’t know whether or not he’d shoot Becks, but Becks takes the pause as the go-ahead to keep talking.
“I’m going to get my wallet from my back pocket. Slowly,” he says, and starts to reach behind him when my dad snaps at him to stop.
He freezes.
“Turn around,” my dad orders, and after a beat, Becks obeys.
“Haven, go get his wallet,” he tells me.
Going over to Becks, I grab the wallet, making a point not to check out what I’m sure is a very nice backside as I do.
When I’ve shuffled back next to my dad, he tells Becks he can turn around.
I have his wallet in my hands, but I don’t know what to do with it. It’s a typical two-fold black leather wallet. It looks like there’s a cash compartment and card slots, but I’m not about to just go through it with him standing there watching. That would be weird.
Becks takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself for something. “There’s a picture in the billfold,” he says, nodding for me to take it out.
I flip through the wallet, finding only a single credit card in one of the sleeves and what looks like a folded picture in the cash compartment. There’s not even a driver’s license.
Pulling out the photo, I glance up at him before looking at it.
“Open it,” he says.
With trepidation crawling up my spine, I unfold the picture. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up to what I’m seeing.
It’s a faded picture of Becks, a pretty tall blonde girl . . . and me?
I gasp and snap my questioning gaze up to Becks.
“Look again,” he says.
I study the shorter figure. We have the same build and generally the same type of features, but enough details are off—her hair doesn’t have as much red as mine does, her eyes have a slight downward tilt that mine don’t—that I realize it’s not actually me in the picture. Just someone who looks eerily similar.
I don’t hear my mom shuffle closer until she gasps and brings a hand up to cover her mouth.
