I stepped around him, careful to avoid the broken glass, and headed for the door. I couldn’t stay in this house tonight. Maybe not ever again. The weight of Connor’s ring pressed against my thigh as I walked, reminding me that I had something worth protecting now. Something my father couldn’t take away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dad called after me, his voice regaining some of its strength.
I paused at the door, not bothering to look back. “Anywhere but here.”
“You walk out that door, don’t bother coming back,” he threatened, the words slurred but unmistakable.
I laughed, the sound hollow in my chest. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
When he didn’t answer, I stepped out into the night, letting the door slam behind me. The cool air hit my face, and I gulped it down like I’d been drowning. My hand throbbed, and my throat felt raw where he’d grabbed me, but I’d never felt more alive.
I walked toward my truck, keys already in hand, when a thought struck me. If I left now, what would happen to Connor? To all the guys working off their parole? Dad was drunk, angry, and humiliated. He’d need someone to take it out on.
I hesitated, one foot on the running board of my truck. I could just drive away, start fresh somewhere else. It would be so easy to leave it all behind. But Connor’s face flashed in my mind, making my heart race. No, I couldn’t just leave him and everyone else behind. Not yet. But I couldn’t stay here either.
I looked back at the house, then at my truck, caught in the no-man's-land between them. The night air felt electric around me, like the moment before a lightning strike. I couldn’t stay with him anymore, that much was clear. But I couldn’t just drive off and leave Connor vulnerable to whatever Dad might do in his drunken rage either.
My hand slipped into my pocket, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the ring Connor had given me. The weight of it grounded me, reminded me that for once in my life, I mattered to someone.
I pulled out my phone and called the only person I could think of.
“Evelyn? It’s Ryder. I need a favor.”
Twenty minutes later, I was parked in front of the Nelson Ranch house. The tents were now dark and there was no music drifting across the yard. But the house lights were on, and I could see a single figure sitting in a lone rocking chair onthe front porch. It was Evelyn, waiting for me just like she’d promised.
I climbed out of my truck, my legs feeling like lead as I approached the porch. Evelyn stood, her eyes filled with concern as she took in my appearance.
“Oh, honey,” she said softly, reaching for my hand. “Come inside. Let me see that.”
I hadn’t even realized my knuckles were bleeding until she pointed it out. The adrenaline was still coursing through me, numbing the pain, but now that she mentioned it, I could feel the dull throb spreading up my arm.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I mumbled, but followed her inside anyway.
The Nelson house was warm and inviting, nothing like the cold mausoleum I’d grown up in. Wedding gifts were stacked neatly in the corner of the living room, and the faint scent of cake and flowers still hung in the air.
“Sit,” Evelyn commanded, pointing to a kitchen chair as she gathered first aid supplies. “Now, you want to tell me what happened?”
I sank into the chair, suddenly exhausted. “He came after me and… well, I hit him, Evelyn. I finally hit him back.”
Her hands paused for just a moment before she continued preparing a warm washcloth. “Can’t say I’m surprised. That man’s had it coming for years.”
“He told me—” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow hard before continuing. “He told me he never wanted me. That he should have left me at the hospital when I was born.”
Evelyn’s face hardened as she gently cleaned the cuts on my knuckles. “Pete McGrath is a miserable excuse for a father. Always has been.”
“You knew him back then? When my mom was pregnant with me?”
She nodded, her eyes sad. “I knew them both. Your mother was a beautiful soul, Ryder. So full of life and love.” She wrapped a bandage around my hand with practiced ease. “And yes, the pregnancy was risky. The doctors warned her. But she wanted you more than anything in this world.”
My throat tightened. “Dad said she died because of me. That I killed her.”
“That’s a goddamn lie,” Evelyn said fiercely, surprising me with her vehemence. “Your mother chose to have you because she loved you already. The only person who killed her was fate, or God, or whatever you want to call it. Not you. Never you.”
I blinked back tears, her words soothing a wound I hadn’t realized was still so raw. “Why would he tell me that?”
“Because he’s a bitter, angry man who never learned to grieve properly.” She finished with my hand and sat across from me. “He loved your mother with all his heart, I’ll give him that much. But when he lost her, something broke in him. Instead of cherishing you as her final gift, he resented you for surviving when she didn’t.”
I looked down at my bandaged hand. “Do you think he’ll ever change?” I asked, my voice small. Despite all the logic I could muster, a part of me still yearned for a father and a family that loved me.
