Couldn’t protectLaiken.
Killed my mother.
Murdered my father.
I am a fucking monster.
Circling the wheel in the palm of my hand and looking over my shoulder for oncoming traffic, I exhale when I tell her, nosing onto the road. “You just wanted to believe I was.”
I’m curled around my knees; my eyes locked on a smooth blanket of ink in the distance.
Chase and I hadn’t spoken again, and I think that may have been for the better, for the both of us.He launches himself out of the truck, reaching into the back seat, hauling out my shit.
The lake is dark, the moon shadowing the peaks of the thick looming pine trees across the water like a slick oil painting.
It was kind of beautiful, and kind of haunting, and I kind of loved it.
My father once told me that he and my mother settled on my name, Laiken, because they both had a deep love for the water. Growing up, it seems that same love had transferred to me. They had shared that it was a constant battle trying to keep me out of the river at the back of the trailer park until I could swim well enough to actually save myself. They often joked that they should have called meFearless, and I knew that equally terrified and excited them.
I used to love the title, wearing it like a badge of honor,Fearless. Only now, I knew I was anything but.
Chase slams the door and I flinch at the thud.
He doesn’t speak to me again, doesn’t tell me to follow him, in fact he doesn't acknowledge me at all when he starts toward the wood-paneled home, leaving me behind.
“Dick,” I mumble to his back, jumping out and moving around the hood of his truck. I pause to pick out a rock that somehow found its way into my shoe, hearing voices coming from the direction Chase had disappeared in.
They elevate, carrying the notes of anger.
I hold my breath, start in the same direction. Wrapping around the corner of the house, I step onto a large, polished deck, noticing that it opens to a serene, unobstructed view of the lake in the distance.
The downlights that line the edge of the house are dimmed, yet the voices are coming from inside, crawling through the large open doors. I trail the vibrato like gasoline leading me to the flames, and when I step through the glass doors, I see Rusty.
His hand is fisting the cotton of Chase’s T-shirt, holding him back from ripping his son's head off.
Chase’s dark hair is in his eyes, and he angrily drags it back from his face, his chest falling heavily. I cut my gaze, glance at Harlen, who couldn’t look more confused.
“Where the fuck else would she have got it?” Chase's voice bellows through the large room, bouncing off the all-wood walls.
And I feel my throat tighten when I realize what he’s angry about, and where he’s placing blame.
I lean back against the wall, cross my arms and clear my throat. All three men turn to look at me. “You can’t do that, Chase.”
“Stay the fuck out of this, Laiken.” His voice is so low, so deep,so empty.
I scoff, glancing across the room at the large gray stone wall, with a built-in fireplace carved into the rock and a massive television hanging overhead. “Bastard,” I mumble.
“What did you say?” he ejects his words with venom, shoving away from Rusty and taking a step toward me.
When I don’t conform to his bullshit, he gets right in my face. His breath is heavy on my cheek, sending chills wrapping around the length of my spine. I let him sweat for a moment longer before turning to face him, lifting my chin.
My eyes latch to his dark brown ones, and I bite into my bottom lip.
“I said you’re a bastard.”
The charged air presses in, and I’m stepping away when Rusty tries to lift it.
“Alright, you two, let’s just?—”
