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I didn’t want to be anywhere but wherever she was… and now she’s discovered how I was finding her exact location all this time and had the thing removed, I have no way of finding her.
With nowhere else to go, I found myself in the only place that might offer me some comfort.
My parents.
I sit in my car beside the charred ground where my old coach house used to sit.
Moving out there last year was a big deal. It was the first time Dad showed me that he trusted me by letting me out from under his roof. The first step toward not constantly being controlled by him.
Clearly, it was all an illusion, because he’s never let go of that control.
With an exhausted sigh, I kill the engine and climb out.
My muscles ache, my head pounds, and my stomach turns over with every step I take from the vodka I drank last night.
Nico came good on his promise of getting me wasted. I just don’t think it had the effect he was hoping for, because when I woke with the hangover from hell, my first thought was that Emmie wasn’t beside me. Hell, she wasn’t even in the building.
Pushing the door open, I slip inside the house.
It’s not unusual to walk in to hear someone yelling, but it’s usually someone younger than me who’s throwing a tantrum. I’m not sure I’ve ever walked in on my parents shouting at each other.
“What the hell were you even thinking?” Mum screams from the left side of the house, probably the kitchen.
“It doesn’t matter. I was doing what needed to be done.”
“By marrying off our child?” Mum shouts, sounding utterly exasperated, making me wonder just how long this argument has been going on for.
She’s never really been one to have opinions on Dad’s decisions and leadership, but I guess involving me in something life-changing means she suddenly feels the need to speak up.
“He’s your son, Damien. Your seventeen-year-old son. How could you? Don’t you remember what it was like?”
I freeze at Mum’s words and suck in a breath.
“Yeah, actually, I do. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it worked out pretty well for us, huh?”
Silence follows, and I can imagine Mum standing there with her hands on her hips, facing Dad down in a way that many wouldn’t dare to.
She might not get involved, and she might appear to be the doting wife all the time, but I’ve seen a few moments where she’s stood her ground and won.
And I’m betting right now is going to be one of those times, no matter how adamant Dad is that he did the right thing.
“This isn’t about us. The situation is entirely different.”
“Is it?” he asks, his voice softening. “Is it really? I happen to remember all too well what your situation was back then. Not all too dissimilar to Emmie’s. No?”
“That was over twenty years ago, Damien. Totally different.”
“If you say so. But something tells me those two are just younger versions of us—and you might disagree, but I can’t imagine spending the last twenty or so years with anyone but you.”
Deciding that listening to them make up is probably worse than them arguing, I make my presence known and storm into the kitchen.
“Ah, here he is. My heir,” Dad quips.
“Shut it, Damien,” Mum snaps, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.
“Your disrespect yesterday won’t go unpunished,” Dad warns me.
“All of this is your fault,” I tell him once more. “I think I’ve already been punished enough, don’t you?”
