The hand holding mine grips so hard my knuckles grind.
“Put. The knife. Down,” Remy threatens, his tone lethal.
My stepdad’s lips part. He glances at Mom. She’s shaking, fixated on a glass of water vibrating in front of her, tears welling on her lower lashes. Carefully, Richard sets the silverware on either side of his plate.
A beat passes.
Mom sniffles.
Remy sits back, icy glare unwavering as he brings our joined hands to rest on his thigh. “Intimidate him again and we’re going to have a fucking problem.”
It’s a really, really inappropriate time to get hard.
But comeon.
I’m pretty sure I have heart eyes.
The tense stare-down between Remy and Richard drags on for an eternity. While my boyfriend appears calm, collected and firm, I can feel the fiercely protective energy steaming off him.
He’s fuckinglivid.
Richard breaks first. Shoulders slumping, he wipes a hand down his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. I almost do a double-take. I’ve never seen my stepdad back down to anyone. Ever.
But when his hand falls away, bloodshot, shimmering eyes land on me. “You could’ve come to us. Said something.Anything.” He swallows, jaw trembling. “Why didn’t you?”
I’m numb as the truth effortlessly glides out.
“You never asked.”
Not once. They were too busy with work, too distracted with events or grades or violin to notice the warning signs. Sometimes,I wonder if I would’ve cracked had they asked the right questions. Maybe not. But I wasn’t given the chance. Judging by the horrified expressions on both Mom and Richard’s faces, they’re finally realizing it.
Pushing my chair back, I stand and tug my boyfriend’s hand. “Come on, you’re gonna be late to class.”
“Winnie,” Mom croaks.
Nope.
Can’t be here.
Can’t do this right now.
Remy takes one look at my face and immediately pulls his keys out of his pocket. Without saying goodbye, he laces our fingers and leads me through the foyer. Soft cries shoot at my back like bullets, puncturing layers of skin and muscle and bone. The barrage only stops once Remy closes the front door and guides me into the passenger seat of his truck.
I’m shaking. I can’t stop.
“I’ve got you, baby. Deep breath and hold it.”
I do as he says until my lungs nearly burst. As I exhale, he leans in and kisses my forehead, lips lingering. He’s still holding my hand, my knuckles white with how hard I’m gripping him back.
The pressure in my chest starts to lessen.
His thumb swipes under my eye.
Fuck. I’m crying.
“Y-you’re gonna be late—”
“I don’t give a fuck about class right now,” he murmurs, cupping my jaw and lifting. I have no choice but to look at him. Green and gold shine with warmth, empathy and love.
