Kai stops when his father arrives.
I don’t mean he holds his breath or goes quiet. I mean, hestops. Like someone hit pause on a remote and forgot to press play again. His chest doesn’t move. His eyes don’t blink.
I’ve seen Kai cruel, violent, broken, desperate, ashamed.
I’ve never seen him terrified.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to run.
It’s the same feeling I’d get back in Riverside when Bobby came home with that particular swagger.
Danger. Predator. Get out.
But I can’t run this time, because Kai looks carved of stone, and I’m sure as hell not abandoning him.
All of that because this man entered the room.
Richard Jordan is tall, silver-haired, and handsome in that distinguished older-gentleman way that gets you elected to country club boards and invited to charity galas. His briefcase is leather, monogrammed, the kind of thing you see in magazines about ‘men who mean business.’
He looks like the American Dream, not a monster. That’s the thing about men like him. They never do.
Unless you grew up around monsters. Then you can spot them a mile away.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Richard says dryly as he studies the table of inedible food.
No one moves.
No one speaks.
Sharon’s frozen with her hand halfway to her wineglass. Ezra’s staring at his phone like he wishes he could disappear into it. And Kai…
Kai’s gone somewhere else entirely.
There’s a vacant, faraway look in his eyes that means the lights are on but nobody’s home. Jaw slack, shoulders hunched. He looks like he’s shrinking into himself.
Because he’s trying to be invisible.
Fuck.
“Sit down,” Richard barks at Kai. “Been years since you’ve bothered coming home.” He waves a hand at the food. “Might as well enjoy this fuckingfeastyour mother put together.”
I’m definitely not imagining the contempt in his voice. I’ve heard it plenty from my own father and uncle.
“Sharon? I asked for a beer.” His voice is mild now, but there’s an edge that promises retaliation if she doesn’t obey.
Kai’s mother scrambles to her feet so fast that she nearly knocks over her wineglass. “Of course, darling, of course!”
She disappears into the kitchen, her heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the marble.
Richard surveys the table with an impassive face and bloodshot eyes. They pass over Ezra with a dismissive glance, then land on me.
I force myself not to look away or shrink. I refuse to become the small, scared girl I used to be, even for a monster like this.
“Where do I know you from, sweetheart?” Richard asks, frowning.
“I’m Haven,” I say, and I’m proud that my voice doesn’t shake, even while my entire body cringes at the way he says sweetheart. “Haven Lee.”
“Lee.” He rolls the name around in his mouth. “From the trailer park.”
