Brent slams his fist into the wall next to my father’s face. He winces and shrinks away, letting out a pathetic yelp.
“Threaten me again,” Brent says.
“You can’t—”
“Go ahead. Threaten me. Tell me what I can and can’t do on my property. You see, the thing about Texas is, they love it when you defend your fucking homestead from some weasel little shit like you.” Brent stares at my father.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says.
“And you have five seconds to leave before I hurt you.”
Dad looks at me. “And you’re making a bigger one.”
“Better get moving, Dad,” I say. “He’s not joking.”
One look at Brent convinces Dad that I’m right. He turns and walks out as fast as he can. Brent follows him to the door.
“Don’t show up here again,” he says. “Next time, there won’t be a countdown.”
Dad makes it to his truck before he turns back toward us. “You’re both making a mistake,” he says. “I’m not going to let this go.” He points at me. “You’re not finished.”
Brent closes the door.
I stand there and stare at him. He turns to me and pulls me against him, hugging me tight. My heart’s racing so fast in my chest I can barely breathe.
“How… how did he find us?”
Brent shakes his head then stops. “You said he looked at your texts.”
“Yeah. I didn’t know he looked at my phone.”
He sighs. “Think he knows your passwords?”
“I wouldn’t be shocked if he did. So what?”
“He can use your Find My Phone app. He just tracked you with your own damn phone.”
I stare in horror at the thing poking out from my pocket. I hold it up. “Seriously?”
“Can’t say for sure, but that’s my guess.”
I turn it off and throw it on the couch. “I don’t know what to do.”
He pulls me against him again and kisses me. There’s an anger in his kiss, a tight, animal rage.
I have to admit, I like it.
Watching him stand up to my father like that made me wild with excitement. It’s insane, I know, but I’ve never seen a man stand up for me before. He was intense and aggressive… and I liked it.
“I told you,” he says softly, breaking the kiss off. “You’re mine now.”
“Yeah.” I kiss the stubble on his cheek. “I think I am.”
He pulls me tight and for the first time in a while, I think I might have a chance.8BrentAmber goes to bed early. I take her phone out back and smash it with an ax.
I could probably get away with just turning it off and leaving it in the microwave or something. But there’s something satisfying about the heft of the ax, the cold night air biting against my skin. I smash it down and cut the fucking thing in half and leave its broken electronic guts splattered all over the stump in my side yard.
I let her sleep late the next morning. When she comes down, I’m sitting in the kitchen with a pot of coffee and some bags already packed.
“Hey,” she says. “Good morning.”
“Morning. Got you some coffee. You hungry?”
“No, thanks, I’m okay.” She takes some coffee though and curls up on a chair, legs folded under her gingerly. She looks so small and vulnerable.
“Listen.” I walk over and sit down on the coffee table, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “We gotta talk.”
“I figured.”
“About your dad.”
“What else would we talk about?”
I shrug. “Stock market. Price of gas.”
“I hear it’s up.”
“Which one?”
She gives me a flat look. “Both.”
I laugh a little. “We can’t avoid this, you know.”
“I know. As much as I want to crawl into a hole and pretend like none of this is happening, I know.” She looks down at her leg. “I’m reminded every time I move.”
“I have a plan.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
“Does it involve me marrying some stranger?”
“No, it does not.”
“Then it’s already great.”
I sigh a little and rub my eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure I like it, either.”
“Just tell me.”
I take a deep breath. “We’re going to my parents’ house.”
She frowns, just a little bit. “Why’s that such a big deal?”
“You’ll find out once we get there.”
“Ominous.”
I get up and stalk into the kitchen. She watches me but doesn’t say anything. I pour my fourth cup of coffee and sip it, unable to help myself.
“Look, I haven’t been home in a long time, okay? At least, not for longer than a day or two at most.”
“That’s not really that uncommon.”
“It is in my family.”
“Brent.” She unfolds herself and struggles to her feet. I’m by her side in a second, helping her. She gives me a grateful smile. “Listen. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. There have to be a million things we can do to get away from my dad.”
“There are, but I promise you none of them will be as good as going to my parents’ house.”