Page 4 of Break Me Gently

Isabella wrapped her arms around me.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered. “So glad you came.”

I awkwardly patted her back, but my eyes stayed on the older man. The new man in her life. It stung even more when I thought of my dad.

I pulled back.

Then, at the back of the hallway.

A flash of red.

No—a continuous flash.

Amber stood there in a stupid green Christmas sweater, flashing lights strung around a reindeer’s head, tangled through its antlers.

And beneath that sweater was a shape I didn’t recognise.

“Hello, little sister,” I murmured, smirking, while the old bastard closed the door behind me.

The bastard slapped my back hard enough to push me forward, then planted his hand on my shoulder to pull me back.

“So this is your son. A fine young man.”

I flinched at the word.

Son.

Isabella beamed and clasped her hands together beneath her chin.

“Oooh. We are all home for Christmas,” she exclaimed, her eyes shining bright.

Tacky old decorations were strung up everywhere, and I could smell sweet cinnamon and a faint hint of turkey. Memories of Dad clawed their way back. My attitude back then. When he fell ill. What broke me beyond repair.

Just for a moment, I closed my eyes.

The floorboards creaked.

Amber moved forward.

Just like her recent posts. Gone were the buck-ugly teeth and frizzy mess. I didn’t recognize this auburn-haired witch. Height had never been in her favour, thanks to Isabella.

“Zach,” she murmured, barely a whisper.

My lip curled in disgust.

My father had taught her how to ride a bike, tackle in football, and taken her to dance classes. All time that had been stolen from me—his son.

“Is my room free?” I asked, turning to Isabella.

“Of course. Take your things upstairs. Amber, can you clear the laundry airer out of his room?”

“Sure, Mum,” she said, making a beeline for the stairs.

Luke fuckface moved forward, placing his hand on Isabella’s hip before whispering something in her ear. She laughed and slapped his shoulder. He turned and gave me a sly look.

“Come to the kitchen, and we can catch up once you’re settled,” Isabella said, but the bastard was already leading her away.

I’d stayed away for too long. I needed to look into this Newbury cunt.