“Can you just tell me what the fuck is going on?” he asks, but he pulls out a pocketknife, popping the lock in two seconds flat. When I throw the door open, my dad is sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped.
“What do you want?” he slurs. “I know you…” He squints one eye, pointing an unsteady finger at Sebastian. I slide my eyes at Sebastian who’s glaring at my dad. He’s so high, he probably thinks Sebastian’s the president of the United States.
“Where is it?” I demand, pulling open drawers and flipping blankets.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, nodding off.
“Goddammit, Dad,” I say, starting to panic. “Where’s the rest of it?” There’s no way he spent that much money in one night.
“Evan…” Sebastian says cautiously, like he’s speaking to a cornered animal.
“Just go,” I snap.
“I’m not fucking leaving you here,” he says, his eyes bouncing between me and my poor excuse for a father.
“Where are the pills, Dad?” I yell. I notice his fist closed around something, and I dive for it. Dad shoves me away, and I fall backward onto my ass, my lower back stinging from hitting the corner of his dresser. Sebastian is on him in a flash, hand closed around his throat, pinning him to the mattress.
“Don’t hurt him!”
“Are you okay?” he grinds out.
“I’m fine.” I nod, but I’m not fucking fine. My dad just took everything from me. Every penny to my name and every hope I had that he’d get better. Spying a small bottle in his hand, I scramble toward the bed, pry the bottle of pills out from his fingers, and flush them down the toilet in his master bathroom. Sebastian holds him in place as my dad screams obscenities at the both of us. Once the pills are gone, I prowl back over to the bed. My dad’s face is purple as he strains against Sebastian’s hold. It’s hard to believe this man is the same man as the well-respected surgeon and the doting father he once was.
“You and I,” I say, looking down at the father I no longer recognize. “We’re done.”
“Go pack a bag,” Sebastian states, not asks, still pinning my dad to the bed. “You’re not staying here tonight.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I won’t hurt him, Evan. Pack your shit,” he says through clenched teeth.
I feel my bottom lip tremble, but I don’t allow myself to let a single tear fall. I look around my room, not knowing where to start. How is this my life? I take a deep breath, regaining my composure, mentally planning my next steps. Tonight, I’ll stay with Sebastian. I’ll come home and talk to my mom tomorrow, and then I’ll figure out where to go from there.
I turn toward my closet, grabbing an old backpack from the top shelf before dropping to my knees, stuffing whichever article of clothing my hands touch first into my bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sebastian enter the room, bending over to pluck something from the pile of clothes. Held between his thumb and forefinger is his leather jacket. The one I said I didn’t have. Sitting on my knees, I meet his eyes to gauge his reaction. I don’t have it in me to make excuses or defend myself right now. Sebastian holds my gaze, giving nothing away. Finally, he simply folds it over his forearm without a word.
How is it that after everything that’s happened tonight, Sebastian reclaiming his leather jacket is the thing that threatens to send me over the edge and make me cry? My normal meter is clearly broken.
I stand, throwing my bag onto my bed before running to the bathroom to grab a toothbrush. When I return, Sebastian is sitting on my bed, inspecting the posters on my walls, the hanging lights, and Polaroid pictures of friends, both of the real and fake variety.
“Ready,” I announce, walking over to grab my backpack before shrugging it on. Once we’re outside, I walk right up to Sebastian’s motorcycle, bringing my left foot up to the peg and swinging my right leg over the seat. Sebastian hesitates before getting on and faces me. His hand lightly grips where my shoulder meets my neck, his thumb grazing my collarbone. His touch both soothes me and sets a fire inside me simultaneously, and my eyes close on their own accord.
“Your dad always been a piece of shit, or is this a new development?”
“New development.” I check the invisible watch on my wrist. “Only for about two years now,” I deadpan.
I watch as realization dawns on him. Finally, the pieces of the puzzle seem to click into place. Silence stretches between us. I’m feeling vulnerable and raw and embarrassed, and I want nothing more than to put some distance between this house and me.
“Can we please go?” I ask. No attitude. No sarcasm. A genuine plea for him to get me out of here. With a nod, he straddles the bike. I secure my helmet, then wrap my arms around him. Holding onto him, feeling his muscles tighten and release as he moves to pop the kickstand and balance the bike is quickly becoming my favorite part about being on the back of his motorcycle. As soon as we take off, I lay my head against his back. Tonight, I’ll allow myself comfort from Sebastian any way I can get it. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to not having feelings.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU doing, Seb?” Lathan asks, but it sounds more like an accusation than a question. After I came back with Evan in tow, I got her settled into the bunkhouse before coming back out to explain the situation.
“If you got something to say, say it.”
“You’re bringing in an outsider. If you want to dick some townie down, go for it. But this chick has been nothing but trouble, and now she’s in our home?”
“Relax, man,” Eros chimes in. “She’s not bad.”
“It doesn’t matter. We have rules.”