Page 81 of Heartless As Puck

I did.

“Yes, I’m upset, but anyone who was violated this way would be. Something that was supposed to be intimate, just between us, has been blasted everywhere for everyone to see. I think it’s pretty fair to be upset by that.”

I nodded, agreeing with her so far. “So that’s why we should⁠—”

She held up her hand to cut me off. “I’m not finished. The truth is that I let the press and all their bullshit control my life too much when I was young. I was just a kid, so it’s not like there was much I could do about it. I’m not going to let their choices control my life now. If you want to end things with me, you need to tell me that, but even if you do, I’m not running away.”

Helplessly, I met her gaze, hoping for some sign of softness, but right now, she was made of steel. I opened my mouth, determined to say something—anything—that would free her, but then I closed it again.

I just couldn’t do it. I wanted her too much.

“I…”

“Yes?” She didn’t waver. There was no tremor in her voice. I couldn’t help but feel proud of her for that.

“I don’t want it to be over.” But I had a feeling it would take a lot for me to prove that.

Suddenly, I heard shouting outside.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, straining my ears to try to make out the words. All I could tell was that it was a man and that no one was yelling back. My heart sank.

Please tell me that isn’t my father.

There was a timid knock on the living room door. We both looked over. Delia was hovering there, visibly uncertain.

“There’s a very angry man outside,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Hazel just went out to deal with him, but I don’t think she should be speaking to him alone. Pete is going to keep an eye on her, but I thought you ought to know.”

Fuck.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll go find out what he wants.”

Jane caught my hand. “Are you sure? We can just bring Hazel inside and call the cops.”

I shook my head. She’d said that she didn’t want to run from her problems, and honestly, I’d done enough running too. I was overdue for a very serious chat with my father. He needed to know that next time, I might listen to Jane and call the police.

I stood and padded across the room. Delia moved aside to let me pass, and as I reached the foyer, I grabbed a pair of tennis shoes and slipped them on. It was too cold to go out in socks.

Dad was still shouting, except now, Pete was shouting back. Hazel stood just behind him, tears streaking down her cheeks.

“I don’t care who you are,” Dad screamed, advancing on Pete with his fists clenched, as if he wanted to lay into him. “Don’t get between me and my children. That’s my daughter right there, and if I want to tell her to stop being a whiny little princess and get her brother, then I will.”

I watched those fists cautiously. As far as I knew, he’d never hit either of us, but I’d never seen him this angry either, except, perhaps, for when I’d first tried to cut ties with him. I couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t take a swing.

He spotted me behind Pete and Hazel. His nostrils flared, and he tried to shove past Pete, who stood his ground and put himself bodily between Dad and us. A brief thought flashed through my mind that this was what a father was supposed to do. Shield his kids from all the bad in the world. Dad had never done that.

Even after only having met him a couple of hours ago, I knew that Pete Wright was ten times the father Jon Harris would ever be.

“Are you happy now?” Dad shouted at me. “You’ve disgraced the family name. All those years of work and self-sacrifice I put in to get you to this point, and you’ve just thrown it all in the trash, and us along with it. Do you even care about me and your mother?”

“Of course he does!” Hazel shrieked, peering out from behind Pete.

Dad ignored her completely, just like he always had. To him, she was a second-class citizen. I was his golden goose. Only I’d had the audacity to stop accepting his shitty treatment of me and put boundaries in place. He’d never seen that coming.

“You’ve ruined us,” he declared dramatically. “I’m embarrassed to call you my son.”

“Then don’t.” I said it before I had time to think it through.

Those two words might have been the harshest thing I’d ever said, and I’d given them no thought at all, but they felt oddly right.