The strike of betrayal cuts so deep and close to my heart it makes the back of my eyes burn.
I thought they were getting to know me.
How stupid I was.
Rose squeezes my hand tightly, pulling me back from the abyss of darkness that whispers my name. A dense, thick cloud swirling in anger, sadness and grief that loves to follow me around.
“Please, calm down.” Her bottom lip trembles and it breaks my resolve like a lightning strike hitting the ground and destroying everything in its wake. My emotions settle down as my attention narrows on her. “They just wanted to know. They didn’t force me. I told them because this is their house and I’m someone who’s intruding?—”
“You’re here because I brought you here.I want you here. You’re not intruding.”
“That’s not how I feel,” she murmurs.
I twist my wrist out of her hold and lace our fingers together. “You are safe here. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
She nods. “They are not at fault. Please don’t be mad at them.”
I press my lips together in a thin line in disagreement.
“Heath.” Mom stands up and near us. Instinctively, I bring Rose behind me.
“What do you want?” My anger returns in full force.
She watches me with such an intense look in her eyes, it feels like she can see right through me. And I hate it. I fucking hate it. I don’t want her to get close to me. Because when she leaves, it’s going to hurt. I refuse to let myself surrender to that pain and loss. Especially, when I know it’s inevitable.
“I just want you to be okay,” Mom says.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re in trouble.”
“I’m not.”
Her eyes momentarily drift to Hope, and that fucking action coils tension around my muscles.
“You need to take her home. Her parents must be worried.”
I scoff. “Worried is the last thing they are.” Fury is laced in my words.
Looking at my girlfriend she asks, “Hope, does your mother know that you’re here?”
My blood boils at the mention of that woman.
“No,” she replies.
Mom glances at me.
“She should go home before her parents come knocking on our door,” Dad says from his perch on the sofa. “She is underage. It would be a problem if they figure out she’s here and you’re involved.”
I glare at him. “She isn’t leaving.”
He watches me for a moment. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Fuck the right thing. I don’t care.” I protest.
His lips press together in disagreement.
“They are right,” Hope murmurs. “It’s time I go home.”
