A cold prickle crept along the back of my neck.
Hands that wouldn’t release.
The gun.
The trap of it.
The flashes hit fast, bright as splintered light.
Candace snapped her lid open and stabbed her salad. “He doesn’t understand how scary it was. He’s never been through anything like that.” She was cushioning him again.
He should have steadied her.
Made her feel safe.
The way Damien had made me feel last night.
The thought slid in with quiet clarity, his hands on my skin, his presence drawing me back into myself with a calm I hadn’t expected.
“It wasn’t even about dinner,” Candace said. “You know that tone? When it’s not about the thing at all, it’s everything underneath it. Like he was waiting.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I know exactly what you mean.”
A faint pressure tugged behind my temples as my father’s sharp, unwelcome voice shoved its way into memory.Drama queen. Just like your mother.
“He said I’m a baby. A drama queen.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?” I asked. “Explain how messed up it was?”
“No, it’s fine.” Too quick. “Besides, you two don’t exactly get along.” She dug her fork into a crouton until it cracked. “He’ll cool off. He always does.”
Warnings gathered like static under my skin.
“If you want to crash at my place tonight, you can,” I offered.
“No thanks. I’m sure he’ll apologize.”
“Offer stands.”
She rubbed her arm, her sleeve slipping enough to reveal dark, smudged bruises matching mine.
My brows drew together. “I don’t remember him grabbing you.”
“Neither did I. I only noticed it last night.” She lifted her arm slightly, unsure.
“I get it,” I said. “I thought I threw my back out. I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline dropped.”
“Damn, are you okay?”
“I’m fine now.”
“No way! I thought your back hurt?”
“It did,” I admitted.
“Ohhh.” Her eyebrows danced.
“Oh, god.” I covered my face. “I didn’t fuck him, Candace.”
