"Rob!" Mom yells, trying to stop him, but he shakes her off.
"Dad, stop!" I chase after him, but he's through the door, pulling open my closet, grabbing my duffel bag off the shelf.
"You can come back for the rest of your things later. Right now, we're getting you out of here."
"This is my house!" I try to grab the bag from him, but he jerks it out of my reach, shoving clothes into it with his free hand. "You can't just--Dad,stop!"
"Rob! We should go, let's just go--"
"She's not staying here with him." He's sweating now, his movements jerky, almost frantic. "Not after what we saw."
"I'm twenty-four," I snap, trying to get around him, but he blocks me. "You can'tkidnapme."
They both freeze at the word. Something flickers across Dad's face--Loss of control? Panic?--but before I can process it, headlights sweep through the window, the sound of Grey's truck a relief and a trigger.
His truck.He's here.
I don't know what's going to happen. But this has to stop.
I rush for the door, my parents behind me. I'm reaching for the doorknob before they can stop me, needing to see him, needing to know he's okay.
I pull it open, and he's there.
He's wrecked.
His lip is swollen and bloody, black eye forming, knuckles wrapped in a crude white bandage, blood seeping through. His jaw is so tight, the joints look like they could shatter. But his eyes.
His pale, gray eyes are devastated. Exhausted. Sorry.
Broken.
In my chest, my heart breaks. Seeing him like this, because of me, hurts so bad, I can't breathe.
"Molly, I--"
I launch myself at him, throw my arms around his neck. The moment I'm in his arms, I start to cry.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm sorry," I mutter into his neck.
"Shh, don't cry," he whispers like a plea, like he won't be able to keep it together if I don't stop. His face is buried in my hair. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I couldn't--" The word breaks.
We don't say anything else. After a moment, he puts me down, moves to kiss me, stops. When I look up from his lips, his eyes are on my parents standing behind me.
"You have some nerve showing up here," Dad says, voice tight.
"It'smyhouse!" I snap. "You're the ones who had nerve to show up."
My parents have the audacity to look offended. Grey and I share a look before he shifts his attention back to them.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Hadto see it?" Mom balks, voice rising. "Hadto watch you assault a man?"
"He--"
"It doesn't matter what he did," Dad says. "You should have walked away."
"I know. I know I should have. I tried."
