“No, Dad,” Winnie replies. She steps back from me and closer to the doorway. “Finn was just leaving.”
No. I want to reach for her, to beg her to understand, to take back everything I said and forget about it all. The air shifts. Her brown eyes deepen while a shield slides into place. I feel like I’m losing her.
“Better get home then, Son.” Her dad makes a gruff, grunting noise and moves to close the door, now that his daughter is inside again.
Frantically, I reach for the door jamb, my eyes seeking out hers. “I’ll call you later.”
Winnie shakes her head; it's barely a movement, but I see it. A single tear slides down her cheek. “Don’t bother.”
The door shuts, and I’m left on the front porch, wondering how I let this happen while fighting against myself and knowing it's my fault. The front porch light turns off, and I take that as a silent cue from her parents that I need to leave their property. I feel hollowed out as I make my way to my bike and rev up the engine. The ride back to the mansion passes in a blur while I’m thinking hard about how I can fix everything. I don’t think I’ll soon forget the way Winnie looked at me before the door closed. As if I crushed her dreams and broke her heart. I push harder on the throttle, and before I know it, I’m racing up the drive. Unsurprisingly, the lights are still on. Declan’s car is gone, but I see that Rose’s is still here. Just fucking great.
Hesitantly, I climb the stairs and let myself in the door. The entry is empty, except for the scattered shoes. I walk farther in the house, intent on heading to my room, wanting to just forget all about the day, when my father’s voice yells my name. I freeze by the banister, my hand gripping the wooden railing until my knuckles are white. I could ignore him. Move on like I never heard him. It would feel good not to abide by his law just once.
“Finn!” Rose’s voice calls next. Only her voice is louder, her high heels clacking against the marble floors.
My brow rises when she comes to stand feet from me. Her long-stemmed champagne glass clasped in her hand, her clothes disheveled and still spattered with food. For the first time in a long time, I actually look at her and see the way her cheeks are hollowed out from too much Botox, the way her forehead barely moves, but her skin is flushed and ruddy.
“I’m not in the mood, Rose. I’m going to bed.”
Her lips turn in a scowl. “You will do no such thing. Your father wants to see you in his study. We need to do damage control.”
My hands instantly fist at my sides. “There’s nothing to fix. We broke up.”
Rose gasps before a flush creeps up her neck, and her eyes bulge. “Harvey!”
“WHAT?” My father’s voice booms through the house, echoing so loud I see Cora flinch from where she’s still cleaning up the floor in the dining room.
“Finn said they broke up!” Rose yells back, her voice shrill.
My father’s footsteps can be heard thundering down the hallway soon after. So much for getting some space and having a peaceful night. I can do nothing else but wait for him to stomp his way to where we are. I step down off the steps and wait, watching as Rose polishes off her drink in one go.
“What did you say?” My father stops in front of us. His button-down shirt is undone and hanging at his sides, not caring that his gut is out. His salt and pepper hair looks like he's been running his hand through it since I left.
“I said—” Rose starts to say, but my father cuts her off.
“I didn’t ask you. I’m talking to him!”
I meet his angry glare. “We broke up when I dropped her off.”
“Like hell you did!” my father shouts, spittle flying from his lips. “Her family is rich. They’re a good connection. I was this close to getting us into their house so we can grease some wheels. We could use the good publicity. You need to go back and tell her you made a mistake.”
“I’m not going to do that,” I grit out, eyes flashing with defiance. I never stand up to him. I knew this would happen if I brought her into this house of horrors, and even if we aren’t together, even if I messed up everything, I won’t let him use her family. What I don’t expect is the loud crack or stars that explode behind my eyes when he slams his fist into the side of my face.
My feet wobble, and there's a blinding pain in my jaw and nose. Rose screams, which only attracts the attention of Coraand Marvin. Shock floods my system. Never has he raised a hand to me before.
“You’re fucking weak,” he thunders over me. “You’re a sorry excuse of a son and a man. Your mother should have gotten rid of you when I told her to!”
It feels like the air is trapped in my lungs, and I can’t breathe. I want to get out of here and never look back. I stand at my full height and watch as he realizes I’m actually taller than him. “Fuck you, old man.”
My words don't stop him or even seem to register as he continues to go after me, but he’s stopped by Marvin. His hands grab at me, pulling at my clothes, and he manages to land another hit to my side when I move around him, sprinting up the stairs. The argument continues downstairs even as I slam my door closed and lock it. Their voices rise higher, and it sounds like more flesh hitting flesh. I need to get the hell out of here. The need to get as far from here as possible takes hold and tightens until I almost can’t breathe. I want to escape more than just this house. This town has nothing but brutal, horrible memories. I’ll miss my friends, and lacrosse, sure, but the thought of going to sleep here and waking up one more day feels like a death sentence.
Moving on autopilot, I grab the duffel bag in my closet and start throwing clothes inside of it. I quickly move through my drawers, next grabbing anything that looks expensive that might come in handy later to pawn, before going to the bathroom and grabbing my toothbrush and deodorant. My eyes fix on the floorboard right below my TV stand, and I hesitate. Do I have the time? The booming of voices and what sounds like feet stomping downstairs only seems to grow louder, a proverbial clock ticking down until my father finally gets up here and is pounding on my door. Fuck it. I fall to the floor and pry up the loose board, reaching down inside until my fingers close around the tincanister. Footsteps are coming up the stairs, and the front door slams in the entryway, the sound echoing through the house. Sweat breaks out over my back, and my fingers quicken to flick the lock off. My hand curls around the wad of cash that I’ve kept hidden inside, then I tip it over until the small gold band and glittering sapphire diamond falls into my hand. My mother’s wedding ring.
“OPEN UP THIS DOOR, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” My father’s voice roars through the door.
Slipping the ring and the money in my bag, I heave it over my shoulder and head to the window, throwing it open. I’ve snuck out of here many times, but usually not carrying half my belongings with me. My eyes scan the ledge and the grassy area below it.
“Here goes,” I mumble to myself before throwing the bag to the ground and sliding one leg out of the window, followed quickly by the next. The fists pounding on my door get louder, a subtle crack of wood vibrating through the room. He’s going to break the damn door in. I let my hands slide off the windowsill and fall the couple of feet to the ledge. My legs falter, and pebbles fall from under me. Breathing deeply, I sit and slide my body off the ledge until my fingers grip the edge, and I let go. It's not a short drop to the ground below, but by now my feet and legs are used to it. I know just the right way to land and brace myself at the same time. The little points of pain that hit my knees dull quickly while I grab my bag from the ground and hightail it to my bike. Determination shoots through me when the engine revs up, and I take off, my tires spitting up gravel as I go. The satisfaction of leaving it all behind winds through me the farther away I get. Flying through town has never felt more exhilarating, knowing I’m not ever coming back. I’m done with them. I refuse to ever step foot in that house again as long as I live. This wasn’t planned, but for once, I don’t care to be cautious. I don’t careabout my last name. School ends in a month and I already have enough credits to graduate. All my grades are sitting perfect as well. I’ll email my teachers and ask to finish the year online and throw them some money if need be. There is no way the principal will say no to a Kinsella.
