“I’ll show you temper,” I growl, stepping forward again.
Jonathan meets me halfway and shoves me hard, right into the side of a finished painting—one I spent hours on. The frame snaps in two beneath my back. The canvas tears. I hear myself snarl.
Annabel’s crying now. “Please stop!”
But I’ve already surged forward.
I swing.
My fist connects with the side of his jaw. A sickeningcrack, then the sting in my knuckles. Jonathan’s head snaps to the side, but he straightens slowly, a laugh building in his chest.
“You want to do this?” he sneers. “Pick your battles wisely, Calum.”
I lunge again, but he sidesteps, grabbing my wrist and twisting it just enough to hold me back.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he says, pushing me off with controlled force. “You’re not worth the bruise.”
And then he turns.
Walks out of Holiday House like it doesn’t belong to me. Likeshedoesn’t.
The screen door slams behind him. The wind swallows him up, and silence crashes down like a wave after thunder.
Annabel stands near the broken painting, trembling. Her hair’s a mess, cheeks streaked with tears. My own chest is heaving, my hands shaking from the aftershock of violence.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
“I should be asking you that.”
She looks at me, wounded. “Calum… it wasn’t what it looked like.”
I sink into the armchair, dragging a hand down my face.
“Isawhim kiss you.”
“And Ipulled away,” she says. “Jonathan doesn’t know how to let go. He’s always been that way. But I didn’t want it.”
“I’m not sure he gives a damn what you want.” My voice is tight. “Maybe we should leave. Go somewhere else. Get away from him. He can’t accept this—us.”
She steps forward, her bare feet whispering across the floor. “I could never leave Ravensreach,” she whispers.
I meet her eyes.
“It’s the only place that’s ever felt like home.” She kneels in front of me, takes my face in her hands. “I’lldie here, Calum.”
Something inside me twists. Not with jealousy. Not with rage. Withfear.A fear I don’t know how to name.
“I can’t lose you,” I murmur.
“You won’t,” she says.
“I want him gone.”
She sighs, resting her forehead to mine. “He’s my oldest friend.”
“He doesn’t treat you like a friend.”
She presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure it never happens again. I promise.”
