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Well, he can fuck right off. I have no intention of becoming anyone’s property. Especially not an arrogant and conceited motherfucker like him.
With my head held high and those lies I just told myself still spinning around my brain, I march out of that graveyard, my sneakers squelching and my body trembling, finally giving into the cold.
By the time I walk around the back of the house in the hope of sneaking inside, my teeth are chattering violently, and my fingers and toes are numb from the ice-cold wind.
Slipping off my sneakers, I dump them straight in the trash as I head for the warmth of the house.
“Stella, is that you?” Dad calls the second I pull the back door open.
Of course he’s here right now.
I roll my eyes at the coincidence. When I saw the driveway was empty I breathed a sigh of relief. It seems I relaxed too soon.
“Yeah. I’ve been for a run in the rain,” I lie. “Let me shower and I’ll come back.”
“Okay, sweetheart.”
A smile plays on my lips that he doesn’t even bat an eyelid.
When we spent a few months in Nevada, I used to bolt outside the second I saw one drop of rain, and I’d stay out there soaking wet until the last drop fell.
It was my happy place. Dad used to watch me from the kitchen window if he was home when it happened and laugh at me like I was a complete head case. He used to joke that my British roots ran through my veins with how much I loved the rain.
Back then, I never really understood what he meant. But tonight, despite the fact that I’m currently freezing my ass off and covered in mud, is what I used to dream of when we had endless days of scorching heat. Seb, the mud and his knife are just an added benefit.
I pause halfway up the stairs as a thought hits me.
Had he just ruined the rain for me?
Asshole.
I shed my wet clothes as I make my way through my bathroom to deal with later, and after turning the dial, I step under the shower. I get blasted with ice cold water for a few seconds, but I barely feel it. The second it begins to warm, it feels so fucking good.
I stand there, letting the torrent of water wash away the mistakes of the night along with the mud and the evidence of his twisted power trip that’s lingering on my skin.
Thankfully, when I get back down to Dad with wet hair and wrapped in the warmest sweater I could find, he doesn’t see anything of concern. He just sets about checking in with me before dropping the not-so-shocking bomb that he’s going to be away for the weekend. The fact that he’s been here a few times this week is more than I was expecting.
“Maybe you could invite some friends around or something,” he suggests as he sips on a tumbler of whisky.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Friends?” I ask.
“Yeah. We’re staying here, Stella. It’s safe to get close to people.” He pins me with a look.
“We’ll see.” I take a couple of steps out of the living room, more than ready to make my escape if this little chat was just all about making me promises I have no reason to believe he’ll keep.
“I know what you think, Stel. But this is our home.”
I don’t know if it’s the cold or Seb’s influence, but I do something I hardly ever do with my dad.
“Well, how about you make me feel like it and share some secrets? You kept me locked up in this house for weeks when we first moved, and now you’re more than happy for me to be running around in the rain? What changed? Hell, screw that… what’s your actual job, Dad?”
“Estella,” he warns, instantly making me feel like a six-year-old again.
“I feel like I don’t even know who I am,” I say, immediately hearing Seb’s words in my ear from earlier tonight.
“Don’t be so ridiculous.”
