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But didn’t I?
His palms lift on either side of me and his fingers just brush my skin before his entire body locks into place, the loud call of our names causing us both to flinch.
“Violet.” A bellowing call, a sweeping demand.
“Knox.” An angry statement, a booming command.
Two shiny black shoes step into the kitchen, a phone held in the clenched fist of Ronan’s hand. His face is red, his expression… well it certainly isn’t joy he’s experiencing.
“Violet, why is it that the first week back at school I get a call and you have already stayed late for detention?” His fingers press into his temple.
“I’m sorry,” I muster. It doesn’t feel like an act that I’m putting on to rouse the boys when Ronan is standing here with waves of frustration falling off of him.
“Tell me why.” He crosses the space between us, his steps echoing along the tile floor.
Knox twitches at my side but doesn’t step closer. I glance at him. Does Knox know why I had detention?
I bite my lip, my hands intertwining and twisting in front of me much like the nerves in my stomach.
“Tell. Me. Why.” This time his tone is a pointed whisper, each word a bitter staccato.
My gaze adverts away. I can’t say it. How do I say that? I got caught making out with not one but both of the boys that you’re allowing to stay in your home with me? Is that what he wants to hear?
“Tell me!” He slams his fist against the counter before grabbing my shoulders with both hands, shaking me. “I give you a new start. A fearless beginning. Riches beyond anything you’ve ever had access to and the first chance you get you are trying to muddle the Reyes name.”
Looking up at the contorting rage before me I let out a squeak of a gasp as he shoves me behind him, continuing to talk as he does. “Indecency. Whoring around. Not my daughter.”
His fist gathers in the collar of Knox’s shirt. Ronan’s long finger jabs back toward my face. The motion reminding me of Knox’s actions just moments ago. Their similarities terrify me.
“For some reason, you two can’t stop eye fucking each other.” His fist rams into Knox’s stomach. Stiffly Knox doubles over with a hiss of air.
“You whore around with him.” He grabs a fist of Knox’s hair pulling hard enough Knox is staring up at me with empty eyes. “You whore around with who the hell ever at school.” He lets go of his hair only to slam his fist into the side of Knox’s face. “For every thing you do. All the wrongs you commit while under my roof. He will pay.”
My heart explodes in my chest. Each beat becomes an overpowering rhythm that plays across every part of my body. It pounds inside my head.
“Stop it.” I scream, reaching out, my body moving on its own accord. But my small attempt is nothing. Not when he shoves Knox to the ground the heel of his foot digging into Knox’s tattooed hand.
A crack echoes in the room.
Knox curls into himself but he seems to know better than to make any noise. Anything to provoke the man will only make it worse. He’s deadly silent with every blow that rains down on him. I wish I could go back to not having a father.
Ronan smiles at the noise. Content with the abuse he steps back to me.
“Son,” he pauses until Knox looks up, his shoulders shaking, his breaths trembling but he never makes a sound, “this is for not keeping her in line.”
My head snaps to the side. My cheek stinging and hot from the abrupt backhand. Strands of my hair fall over my face, hopefully, covering the tears that the feeling brought to my eyes.
Mr. Reyes adjusts his gray suit, shimmying his tie up to his neck. He clears his throat, picks up his phone, and exits the room as if nothing happened.
Cautiously, I bring my hand to my cheek. Warm, wet blood smears under my fingertips.
Trembles run through Knox’s body as he stands, the side of his face already blooming into the shades of a new bruise. Without a word he opens a drawer, pulls out a towel, then reaches around me to the freezer. His arm brushes along my hair and I can’t help but lean into him just slightly.
He holds a small bag that sounds like a bunch of loose marbles colliding as it shifts in his hand. He folds it into the towel. His dark, wide eyes scan every part of my face before gentle fingers lift my chin and he carefully presses the towel to my face. I cup the makeshift ice pack against my cheek, recoiling from the pain of its touch but also clinging to his fingers beneath mine.
“He likes to wear big rings,” Knox whispers.
His attention slips to my lips for a single second before he lowers his hands from my face and takes a very deliberate step back.
