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“Your son is a liar and a...a rapist. He deserves everything he gets.”
“Charlotte, I had no idea…”
“Leave.” The fury in that one word makes my skin tingle. My eyes cut to the door where I didn’t hear the newcomer enter.
Baxter stands in the doorway, shaking with barely contained rage.
“Mr Branson,” Charles Snr begins, clearing his throat nervously, “I was just-”
“I don’t give a fuck.” His voice is tight and restrained as he replies. “I called you out of courtesy because no parent deserves to be left wondering where their child is. But make no mistakes about it; I will kill Charlie for what he has done. And if you come anywhere near Raven again, I will fucking kill you too.”
Charles Snr obviously believes him because he hastens from the room without so much as a pleading glance in my direction. The door bangs behind him and a moment later Baxter spins and slams his fist into it, making me jump and whimper.
He whirls round to face me and I must look absolutely terrified, because the storm instantly leaves him and he hangs his head to look at me with complete remorse.
“Raven, I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“It’s-it’s fine,” I croak. “I’m just a bit jumpy.” I try for a lighthearted laugh but it gets stuck. Baxter slowly approaches my bedside and takes a seat beside me, before reaching to clasp my hand in his. My palms are sweaty.
“Shit, you’re trembling,” he murmurs.
“So are you,” I point out, deflecting. “You called his dad?”
“I did.”
“Did you mean what you said?” I ask timidly, referring to the cryptic comment about parents knowing where their children are.
“Every word,” he promises, meaning so much more. “Wouldn’t be my first time.”
Oh.
I don’t know what to say to that. Should I be horrified? Repulsed? Afraid? I look at Baxter out of the corner of my eye. He’s been my saviour and friend, my rock and confidante. I could never be afraid of him. Phoenix worships him. I…My stomach flips.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to keep him away. What did he want?” Baxter asks.
“Came to beg that I don’t press charges.”
“What?!” he explodes.
“Charlie hadn’t told the truth. At all. I doubt he’ll be expecting me to let him off for ‘his little prank’ now.”
“He said that?” Baxter growls.
“More or less.”
“I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Who?”
“Both. Fucking idiot.”
“No parent wants to think badly of their child,” I say. Then I cringe because it sounds like I’m making excuses for him, and I’m really not. “Can we change the subject?” I ask instead.
“Sure. Are you ready to head home?”
I cringe, and of course, Baxter spots it.
“What?” he demands.
