Now my entire body hurts, but I ignore the agony slicing through me as I climb out of bed and pad into the hall in search of him.
I feel like a lost puppy seeking her owner, which would be totally embarrassing if the pain wasn’t so severe. Bracing against the doorframe, I cast a nervous glance around the living room and kitchen, noting Sutton’s absence. Fear twists in my gut, immobilizing me. My feet feel rooted to the spot, even as a breeze from the foyer carries over, like the front door is open.
That thought does little to comfort me.
But I force myself to keep going, peeking around the dividing wall, and stop dead in my tracks.
Sutton stands in front of the open door, unmoving, hands stuffed deep inside the pockets of his sleep pants. I frown, stepping forward, confused as to why he’s letting the cold air in.
My foot lands on a creaky floorboard, and I swallow when his green eyes cut to mine. They’re angry, and it only takes a second to learn why.
The mouth of a pistol presses flush against his forehead, gripped by a large hand. I can’t see who from this vantage point, but the hint of a familiar red tattoo peeking out from beneath the assailant’s jacket lures me in.
“Elle,” Sutton warns, his voice laced with an edge I’ve never heard before. Not even when he found me in the caves last night. “Go back to the bedroom. Now.”
Despite the pain I’m in and the panic freezing my limbs, I find his authoritarian persona appealing in a way that’s probably inappropriate for the moment, but oh well.
“Noelle,” the assailant chimes in, his cold tone indicating his displeasure with the entire situation. “Care to explain why a stranger is answering the door and ordering you around?” He leans in to glance at me, his brown eyes darkening immensely. “And why you look like that?”
I cringe, glancing down at Sutton’s T-shirt, its hem hitting me mid-thigh. Most of the bruising is hidden beneath, but there’s a decent amount still on my arms, plus all the cuts and dried blood.
My fingers hastily tug at the material as I make my way to the door, slipping between them.
“Noelle Rose,” Dad spits through clenched teeth, unmoving. “What the hell is going on here? You have thirty seconds to explain before I put a bullet between this man’s teeth.”
Sutton tenses. I feel him reach for me, even in the midst of danger. “Elle, you can’t?—”
“He has nothing to do with why I’m in this shape, Daddy.”
A long, uncomfortable silence settles in the air.
“Daddy?” Sutton curses behind me. “This is yourfather?”
Dad’s finger twitches on the trigger. The gray hair around his ears has spread more along his hairline, threading intricately through the inky-black locks Quincy and Asher got from him. “Is there a problem with that?”
“Well, it’s not every day a student’s parent holds me at gunpoint,” Sutton replies glibly.
“Do you often find these students parading around you in nothing but a T-shirt? If that’s the case, I’m more than happy to take action on the other parents’ behalf.”
Groaning, I shove Sutton backward and motion for Dad to step inside. “Can we please not make a scene in front of the entire campus?”
Dad glances over his shoulder at the empty, early-morning landscape, but he comes in anyway. He doesn’t lower the gun, though, even as he puts a finger under my chin and turns my face, inspecting the damage.
“Fucking hell, sweetheart. What happened to you?”
I pull away, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Nothing Sutton had anything to do with, so can you please stop pointing the gun at him?”
His jaw shifts. “Sutton. What kind of name is that?”
“Okay,Kallum, maybe relax a little.”
Growling under his breath, Dad lets his arm fall, tucking the gun inside his black trench coat. He gives me a long look, his expression unreadable, and pushes past me to the living room.
“Come. Sit. Explain.”
Tension threads through my stomach, drawing awareness to the amount of pain I’m in. I pause, swallowing hard, and watch as he settles on the couch, waiting for us to join.
Sutton sighs, shaking his head. I grab on to his shirtsleeve as he heads toward Dad, stopping him.
