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“It doesn’t make sense, I know.” His voice is soft, strained, as he puts the knife back in the block. “If you... want to stop by the office this week, we can discuss it further. After you’ve had some time to cool down. I promise things are not as they seem.”
“I don’t think there’s any way you can justify cheating on her,” I whisper, not daring to look at him.
“I’m not trying to justify it, I just... need to explain. Stop by for lunch, okay?” Backing from the room, he walks toward the greenhouse, and a moment later I hear a door slide open and then closed, then the hollow thud of his footsteps on the hidden stairs.
I stand in the same spot for half an hour, staring at the clock on the stove as the minutes tick by, replaying the entire reaction in my head like I can change the outcome.
Like there’s a universe where he’ll deny my accusations instead of promising to explain them, and all of this will just be some giant fucking nightmare I can’t figure out how to wake up from.
Breaking out of the spell of despair, I stomp my way up the main stairs, bursting into my bedroom with a vengeance reserved for one man at this point. If I can’t take it out on my father, Boyd will just have to do.
I climb on top of him and rear my arm back, my mouth practically watering as the limb flies through the air, connecting with his cheek in a satisfying, gruesome smack that seems to echo off the walls.
It reverberates in my eardrums even as his eyes snap open, malice seeping through the pores of his groggy body.
