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“Yes it’s legal.”
“So why is dad going off about it?”
She pressed her lips together. “Because Michael’s still part of the family and he’s sixteen years older than me.”
“Sixteen? Sheesh. I never realized that. Jesus, he’s old. So you and Michael are…” Scott wrinkled his nose. “Scrap that. I don’t want to know what you two are doing.”
“Probably for the best,” Grace muttered. A crash came from the kitchen, followed by the high pitch of their mom’s voice. Panicked, she pushed the door open to see her dad standing on the other side of the room, cradling his fist with his other hand, a huge dent in the drywall next to him.
Her parents were on the other side of the huge kitchen that wrapped around the house, and clearly neither of them had heard the door open.
“You happy now?” her mom asked him. “Do you feel better?”
“No.” He frowned, lifting his hand up. Uncurling his fingers, he inspected his knuckles. “I think I broke my hand.”
“Good.” Her mom looked furious. “What were you thinking hitting the wall? You’re an old man.”
Scott chuckled softly behind Grace.
“You’d rather me hit a person?” her dad asked.
Her mom rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t hit a fly, you idiot. The only person you ever hurt is yourself.”
Grace cleared her throat. Her parents both turned at once, her mom pressing her hand to her chest when she saw them standing there.
“Dad?” Grace said. “I’m so sorry.”
His face was red. She wasn’t sure whether from anger or embarrassment. “It’s not your fault,” he said gruffly.
Her mom caught her eye. There was sympathy there. “He told me about you and Michael.”
“Don’t say his name in this house,” her dad growled.
“So what? Now we’re gonna pretend he doesn’t exist?” her mom asked. “Or pretend that he’s the big bad wolf that seduced our virginal daughter.”
Scott spluttered out another laugh.
“Honey, you don’t need to hear this,” her mom said to him. “Why don’t you go out with some friends?”
“Yeah,” Scott agreed hastily, relief washing over his face. “I think I’ll do that.”
Grace reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you,” she mouthed at him.
“Good luck,” he mouthed back.
They waited for him to leave, listening as he padded down the hallway, presumably grabbing his shoes, his wallet, and his keys.
And then he was gone.
Grace turned back to her parents. Her mom was leaning on the kitchen counter, her arms crossed over her chest, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. She’d always been beautiful, the most beautiful woman Grace knew. But right now, she looked furious.
Not at her, though. At her dad. Who was still looking at his hand, frowning.
“How about you go out, too?” her mom said to him. “Get some fresh air. Knock some sense into yourself.”
Grace’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket to see Michael’s name flashed across the screen.
“Is that him?” her dad asked.
