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It’s out of my control. Much like how it’s out of my control, those tears that well up in my eyes again as I look at him. As I see his determined face. That angular jawline dipped in strength. Those high cheekbones, all laced with willpower. His stubborn nose. His resolute frown.
And then, I break down and plead. “Mom, Dad. Please can I talk —”
“I’d like to ask your permission to speak —”
We both say it at the same time and we both stop at the same time too. But while he has the patience, the resolution to be strong, I don’t. Because as soon as he stops, his fingers still clasped in mine, I start up again. “Please, Mom. Alone. Just for a little bit even. I —”
“Fine.” My mom nods.
“Annie —”
“Let them,” she tells my dad. Then, to Reign, “But as Echo said, only for a little bit. We still haven’t forgotten what —”
“You don’t bring her back to us within thirty minutes, I’m coming after you,” my dad threatens, and with that, he lets go of my mother’s hand and stalks out of the room.
My mother sighs and gives me a look. “No more than thirty minutes. And you will both stay out here.”
That makes me a little mad. Like Reign isn’t fit to be let inside the house, and I’m about to protest — for someone who didn’t argue or confront her parents at all, I’ve become really free and accustomed to doing it since I opened up last night — but Reign beats me to it.
“I understand. I’ll have her back in time.”
My mom nods and then steps back to close the door.
As soon as she does, I pull at his hand and turn around.
And start walking.
CHAPTERFORTY-FIVE
I’m not sure where I’m going or even how it’s possible that I’m dragging him behind me — the guy who can manhandle me very easily and has on numerous occasions — but I need to get far away from my house. I need to get far away from the people who look at him like he’s a criminal.
Like he can strike any second now.
When I get to a place in the woods where I can only see flashes of my house and the stucco roof, I stop and spin around. I don’t give him a chance to speak as I say, “I didn’t tell them the whole thing.”
“What?”
“About your dad,” I explain, my fingers tightening around his. “As in, I didn’t give them the specifics. I didn’t give them all the details. Only that he wasn’t a good man and —”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, his eyes staring into mine, his fingers clasping mine just as tightly. “Fuck my father. I don’t care now and I didn’t, the other night as well. I just… It took me by surprise, and I got pissed off.”
I understood that.
I would’ve gotten pissed off too. Ididget pissed off when he’d told me that he’d read my diary and then he went ahead and used it against me. While my intention was never to use his deep secrets against him, I can see why he would’ve gotten a little taken aback.
“I just got really tired of everyone blaming you,” I tell him. “Everyone thinking that you’re the bad guy.”
A bruise pulses on his face. “I’m not a saint either. I —”
“Does it hurt?” I cut him off because I have so many things that I need to tell him and ask him.
A myriad of things, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep them inside of me.
It’s as if he understands it too, my restlessness. My need to worry and fuss over him. And so, he patiently shakes his head and says, “It’s fine.”
I step closer to him, taking in the new bruises on top of the old ones. “It does, doesn’t it? Your face is like… I know it hurts, Reign, okay? I saw you. Inoticed. You can’t breathe without flinching. It’s your ribs, isn’t it?” I glance down at his chest, my hand flying out of his hold and reaching his chest where I rest it very,verygently. “Are they broken? They are, aren’t they? Your ribs are —”
He cradles my cheeks then, making me look up, his rough hands scraping against my soft skin, as he repeats, “It’s fine.”
