Connor steps slightly closer to me. Like he knows exactly how close I am to losing my shit.
The father starts steering Ethan through the crowd.
He glances back at me one last time. And I see the fear again. Followed by a brief flare of hope before confusion sets in.
The same look I used to wear when adults noticed bruises but looked away anyway.
Something twists violently in my chest.
Beside me, Peyton’s fingers slide carefully into my hand.
The contact should calm me down.
Instead, it nearly wrecks me completely.
All I can think about is Ethan.
Because I know exactly what he’s going home to tonight.
54
DALTYN
The drive home from the charity event is too quiet.
Even though the radio is playing a classic rock station, the silence between us is loud. Charged.
Peyton’s eyes bore into my profile like she’s studying pieces of a puzzle, trying to put them together.
After about five minutes, she reaches over and turns the radio down.
While I’m aware she turned it down, I’m too distracted by Ethan’s face to focus on what I know is coming.
All I can see are the bruises on his wrist.
The way he flinched.
That tiny step he took toward me like some part of him already knew I was safer than the man holding his shoulder too hard.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel.
Beside me, Peyton shifts slightly. “You okay?”
“No.” The answer comes out automatically.
I clench my jaw, wishing I hadn’t let that slip out. Being too honest usually results in more questions.
Things I don’t want to answer.
Silence settles heavily inside the SUV after that.
Streetlights flash across the windshield while darkness swallows the mountain roads around us.
It’s as though Peyton knows me well enough not to ask questions, even though she’s desperate for answers. I can feel it in the curious stare still directed at me.
But instead of focusing on her, all I can hear is my father’s voice saying,“He bruises easily.”
It was bullshit.
