My heart hammers against my chest as my legs carry me up the walkway to the porch steps. I hesitate before lifting my finger to ring the doorbell, and suck in a deep breath.
I press my finger against the button, and strain my ears to hear what’s happening behind the pale-yellow door. After another moment, I ring the bell again. Muffled voices become louder, and I’m tired of waiting. Landon and his mother could be hurt inside, or worse.
I ball my hand into a fist and bang on the wood. “Open this door right now! I know you’re in there.”
After another few seconds go by, the front door finally cracks open. Mrs. Fletcher sticks her head through the opening, not allowing me to see fully into the house. Her eyes are bloodshot, like she’s been crying. “Landon isn’t feeling well, sweetheart. Come back tomorrow and?—”
I shove the door so hard it bangs into the wall as it swings open. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but I’m not leaving without seeing Landon.”
I stomp through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Landon!”
“Please, Ainsley.” Mrs. Fletcher’s voice strains as she begs, following close behind me. “Please, just go home.”
I spin around, coming face to face with her. “You should be protecting him. You shouldn’t let this go on.”
She chokes back a sob as she covers her mouth with her palm. “It’s not as easy as you think.”
“It doesn’t have to be easy, but it’s still the right thing to do.”
I whip around and continue my hunt for Landon.
I take the stairs by twos, and when my shoes hit the top step, Landon’s father stands in the middle of the hallway, blocking my path.
“Hello, Ainsley. As my wife told you downstairs, Landon isn’t feeling well. He isn’t seeing any visitors.”
I glance down at his shirt, the neckline stretched out as if someone was pulling on it. My eyes continue their descent and when they reach his raw, bloodied knuckles, my patience snaps.
Digging into my back pocket, I hold my phone up between us. “If you don’t move out of my way, I’m calling the police. And if you try to hurt me, my friends outside will call the police for me. So, you’d better move out of my fucking way right now and let me see Landon.”
His top lip curls, and his cold blue eyes narrow. “I’ll tell the cops you were trespassing in my house.”
I inch closer to him. “Then I’ll show them the photos I have saved of all the bruises you left on your son’s body, and everyone will know what a fucking piece of shit you really are.”
Mr. Fletcher licks his lips as he glares at me. “What a filthy mouth you have for a young lady. Shame your mother isn’t around to teach you.”
The floor creaks under me as I move closer, ready to claw this man’s eyes out of his head for talking about my mother.
But Landon’s bedroom door swings open. “Enough.”
I gasp as my gaze lands on him—a busted, swollen lip, and bruising already surfacing on his cheekbone. I shove past his father, and fling myself at my friend, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. Relief and sadness crash into me at once like waves.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Landon whispers, though he’s holding onto me as tightly as I’m holding on to him.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” I pull back to look at his father over my shoulder. “You should be ashamed of yourself. This is your family.”
Mr. Fletcher doesn’t spare me a glance, his eyes locked on Landon. “I want her gone.”
Then he turns around and heads into his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.
Landon takes my hand, and drags me back down the hallway to the stairs. He doesn’t say a word to his mother when we pass her in the kitchen, and leads me outside onto the porch.
“Are you freaking crazy?” He grips my shoulders. “You can’t just show up here and talk to him like that.”
“And he can’t treat you guys likethis.” I pull out of his hold. “I didn’t hear from you and I was worried. Maybe he’ll stop if he knows we know. Maybe?—”
“He won’t stop, Ainsley. Not until I’m out of this house.”
“And until then, hmm? You’re not graduating for another year and a half. That’s a lot of time.”
