“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I don’t lower my voice or soften it because I’m too pissed, too raw, too done with people today.
She straightens slightly, offended in that quiet, dignified way people do when they’ve never been scolded before, when the world has always bent around them instead of the other way around.
“I suggest you watch your tone,” she says smoothly, with each word clipped and precise.
I snap, “I suggest you mind your own fucking business.”
Her gaze cools instantly, ice settling behind those expensive frames. She scans me from my unbrushed hair to my wrinkledshirt and my half-laced boots in anger, cataloging every flaw like she’s building a case against me.
“That trailer is on my property. You shouldn’t be staying here. My nephew should not be having company over,” she says crisply, the word “company” dripping with implication.
“Nephew. That’s a fucking joke.”
Her expression tightens, revealing a crack in the porcelain mask.
“Young lady—”
“No,” I cut her off, my voice as hard as steel. “Don’t even start with the bullshit.”
I step toward her before I can hold back.
“He’s freezing out there,” I say, my voice shaking with uncontrollable anger. “You have this whole house with its perfect hedges and polished windows, and your so-called nephew is in that metal box while the wind cuts straight through it.”
Her spine stiffens.
“He is there because of his behavior.”
“And you think that makes it okay?” I demand, my hands trembling at my sides. “You treat him like he’s a stray you’re just tolerating, as if he’s something you can toss aside when he’s inconvenient.”
“That boy has caused this family more trouble than you could possibly understand,” she says, her voice cold.
“That boy,” I repeat incredulously, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “You mean Jace? Your nephew? Your family?”
She doesn’t answer because it’s easier to see him as a problem than admit she helped create one. It’s simpler to punish than to understand.
I shake my head in disbelief, a laugh escaping that sounds more like a sob. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
I don’t wait for her reply. Instead, I turn on my heel and stalk toward my car, every step driven by something larger than just my fight with Jace. It’s everything—the hospital, the waiting, my dad’s machines beeping in sync with my breaking heart. The way Jace pulled away this morning like I’d burned him. The way she looks at him, as if he’s a stain on her perfect life, something to scrub away and forget.
I reach my car, yank the door open hard enough that it protests, and slide into the driver’s seat. My hands are trembling when I jam the key into the ignition, adrenaline and fury making my fingers clumsy.
The engine roars to life and I grip the steering wheel, breathing hard, trying to calm the storm inside me that’s threatening to tear me apart from the inside out.
I put the car into gear.
Jace steps in front of it before I get a chance to move.
He stands there, barefoot on the gravel, shoes hanging from his hands as if he grabbed them on the way out. He ignores his aunt yelling something from down the driveway.
For a moment, we simply stare at each other through the windshield.
My chest aches, a hollow, burning pain that spreads through my ribs like poison. Emotion claws its way up my throat. Rage, hurt, and something dangerously close to hope, but I don’t let it show. I won’t give that to him. Not after this morning.
He finally moves, stepping out of the car’s path and walking around to the passenger side. His bare feet must be freezing on the gravel, but he doesn’t flinch.
I don’t unlock the door right away.
