“Shh, it’s okay, Daddy. He’s gone. They’re gone.”
“Who’s gone? What happened?” I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and silently berating myself that I’m happy he doesn’t know what’s going on. I shouldn’t be, it’s his disease that’s eating away at his brain, but I’d rather him not remember all the tortures his own son is putting him through.
Thud, thud, thud. I turn toward the closet where the sound keeps coming from and flinging the door open, I find Betsy also gagged and tied up.
“Oh God. He’s completely lost it.” I free her as fast as I can.
“Aurora! Thank God! Those assholes stole my phone as soon as I texted you and stuffed me in here!”
“I’m so sorry, Betsy! I’m so sorry! This shouldn’t have happened.” I know she deserves a thousand more apologies, but I turn around to free my dad from his restrains, only to find Emett’s small fingers already untying the knots around his grandpa’s wrists.
My heart gives another squeeze, and I wonder how much more it can take before it gives up as well.
Betsy and I silently join Emett and then she quickly makes sure he’s doing fine physically because we all know that mentally, none of us are fine.
“I’ll reimburse you for the phone,” I whisper quietly.
“Oh, stop with that,” she says, sternly. “You shouldn’t be responsible for Aaron’s mistakes. I’ll file a report.”
I sigh, “You know that won’t do anything.”
“Maybe not now, but eventually he needs to answer for all his crimes. Not you, Aurora.” She pins me with a look.
Betsy’s been with us for a while now. She’s a true godsend, and at this point she’s more like another aunt than nurse to this unconventional family I’ve created. And I know what she’s saying is right…just like I know it won’t matter. Not to Aaron. Because in his mind he’s already serving a death sentence.
Dad still looks a little disoriented as we get him settled back into his bed, and I leave Emett in there with Betsy so I can go clean up the rest of the house.
Only to let out a startled gasp as soon as I walk into the living room.
“Severin!” I clutch at my chest as I slouch against the nearest wall.
The large, looming goalie stands right smack in the middle of my dilapidated, trashed house. His hands still clenched tight at his sides and those piercing golden eyes I tried not to look into earlier are trailing over every inch of the space around me.
My cheeks warm when I catch his gaze on a black pair of my lace panties hanging off the chandelier and I rush to snatch them.
“What are you still doing here? Or rather, what are you doing here? Period,” I ask, not looking back at him as I run around, collecting every piece of my underwear.
I may not be looking at him, but I can feel his presence. And it doesn’t belong here. His expensive clothes, the shoesthat are worth a month’s rent on a decent place. His perfectly sculpted face with that perfect scuff, or the sophisticated scent of his cologne with that warm undertone that sends a ripple of…something, down my body.
None of it except for the silent judgment that’s rolling off him in waves.
That, I’m more than familiar with from people like him.
“Did you call the police?” His deep voice that sounds more like thunder in the darkest skies, rumbles off the walls around me.
“No,” I say, clipped and short as my fingers snatch on piece after piece, stuffing my arms full.
“Why not?” Severin grits out, making that one-word sound as accusing as everything else he’s already said to me back on the lake.
I snort, shaking my head. “Thank you for helping me earlier, even though I didn’t ask for it, but I don’t owe you any explanations.” I carry my undergarments into my room, hoping Severin takes a hint and leaves, but when I’m back he’s still there, in the same spot, with hands in his pockets, clutching something as he watches me.
I don’t have the time for this, so I grab a broomstick and start sweeping the broken glass and ceramics off the kitchen floor.
I’ve learned a long time ago that being nice in my own time doesn’t pay my bills or feeds my family. I’ve also learned to not care what others think of me.
Seconds stretched into minutes as the only sound in the room was the crunching from what used to be my pretty flower set of dishes I found at a local thrift store.
Everything I’ve heard about Severin Mineav doesn’t align with the man I met today. He’s been named the nicest one on the team. Everyone sings him praises and wants to be his best friend, yet somehow, I got the version no one else seems to know.
