“They’re arguing.”
At her words, I shot to my feet, ready to sprint into the house. I didn’t even get two paces in when Elise grabbed me by the wrist.
“Wait!” she hissed. “I’m coming with you.”
I spun on her. “You are not. I’m not letting you near him.” I pointed to the guesthouse. “Get inside where you’ll be safe.”
Instead of letting go and retreating like I wanted her to, Elise shook her head. “But I—”
“Elise, you know what he’s like. I’ve got to get Mom and Ava out of here, and I can’t do that if I’m worried about you—”
“Someone was upstairs,” she said, her eyes wide now, “when I packed your mom’s bag. Was it you?”
“What?” I felt my brows pinch. What the hell was she talking about? “No. What do you mean?”
Her hand around my wrist tightened. “When I was coming out of your parents’ room, I heard something in the hall. When I checked, it was empty, but someone closed your bedroom door.” Fear etched her eyes. “Cole, what if your father saw me?”
In one move, I turned and shook off Elise’s hand. I bolted toward the house, clearing one empty lounger and flying up the porch steps. I heard her behind me, close, and faster on my heels than I thought she’d be, so when I made it to the kitchen door, I didn’t hesitate. I pushed my way inside and slammed and locked the door behind me.
For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the look of outrage on Elise Cormier’s face through that door pane. I only saw it for a moment before I turned to race across the house, but a moment was enough. She was pissed, and I’d be paying for it later.
I cleared the kitchen, thinking it would probably be the last I saw of her for months. I hoped so, anyway. I was going to have to physically remove my mother and sister from the house. Right now. Against my father’s wishes. I’d have to fight him.
And I didn’t want Elise anywhere near that.
“DON’T LIE TO ME, ABIGAIL!” My father’s roar ripped through the house, stripping all thought from my mind.
I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Mom!”
“Cole?”My mother’s pinched cry, muffled and distant, fell on my ears. I don’t remember climbing the stairs. I wasn’t even sure my feet touched any. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ava’s bedroom door open as I slammed my shoulder against my parents’ door. It gave barely a rattle.
“Mom?” I called, aware that Ava had started to sob at her end of the hall. My pulse drummed in my ears. How could I break the door down?
“It’s my fault,”I heard my mother cry. “Please don’t hurt him, Garrett.”
“I’ll never let you go, Abigail,” my father growled. “Not ever.”
The gun.
If I fired at the lock, maybe I could kick to door in. It worked on TV. Turning to my room, I thanked God, with almost fervent gratitude, that I’d carried down Ava’s bags first and my suitcase was still in the house. On my bed. Right where I’d left it.
My hands on it shook, and the zipper stuck.
“W-we were just g-going for a few days. Please, Garrett.”
I heard Mom choke on her sobs as I finally opened the damn suitcase. My hands riffled through the clothes. Whenever I came home, I always kept the gun at the bottom. Under my shoes. All the way to the right.
But it wasn’t there.
“Are you going to do something about that?” Ava now stood in my open door fully dressed and in her coat, clutching herself, her face wet.
I tossed out my shoes. No gun. Running my hands along the bottom, I tried to shake off the dread that poured into my stomach.
“It’s here,” I muttered to myself. “It has to be here.”
“Don’t do this, Garrett, please.”
“Cole? Can you hear her?” Ava’s voice climbed even as her words pinched. “She sounds frightened.”
