Page 118 of Unsteady

“All the time. And… I know she just saved up enough for her tournament in December. I’m scared he’ll—”

My hand raises to stop the slight panic I can hear etching into his voice. “I’ll get it, okay?”

“What if he fights with you?”

I smile, all disarming charm. “C’mon, Ollie—look at me.”

“I just don’t want this to be why you leave.”

Another punch to the stomach. Another reason I’m planning to never let these kids out of my sight again. I’d marry Sadie tomorrow if it meant it got them out of this damn house.

Who am I kidding? I’d marry Sadie tomorrow. Period. No stipulations.

“Let me deal with it, okay?”

FORTY

SADIE

I wake up to yelling.

My body jolts like I’ve been electrocuted. One of my biggest fears of being in this house is Oliver growing up and his anger driving him to confrontation. Of waking up to screams and a fight between a drunken man and a child.

I have to get them out of here.

I’m flying down the stairs, two at a time, seeing Oliver at the base, angled in the kitchen. He tries to stop me, but I push past him to see my dad with a broken beer bottle stretched like a weapon over his head. And Rhys, palms up, arms stretched, trying to calm him down.

My dad’s gaze shifts to me and he drops his stance.

“Sade,” he cries, dissolving into tears almost immediately.

I don’t want Rhys to see this part. Where my dad apologizes and cries, and begs me to help him. I don’t want him to know that sometimes he tells me he hates me because I lookjust like her. I don’t want Rhys to see the way that when I get close enough to help him, he pats my head gently or shoves my face away so hard that he nearly broke my jaw on the cabinet once.

I hate this.

“You need to go,” I snap, stepping in front of him.

Rhys’ voice turns almost desperate. “Sadie, stop.”

“I can handle him. I always do—and never with your help. Now, go.”

Oliver looks distraught, only for a moment before he storms off as I get to my dad and pry the bottle from his hand. He pulls it back and hurls it at the wall, screaming something about this all being my fault, before he’s blubbering again.

There’s glass everywhere and Rhys still. Won’t. Leave.

“Sadie, be careful,” he begs.

“Go—please, Rhys. I don’t need your help!”

“Please, baby. There’s glasseverywhere. Just… just let me help.”

I whirl on him. “Stop it! I don’t need you to fix me, Rhys. I don’t need to befixed. I have everything under control. Oliver gets to his practices andImake sure he has new skates and gear when he needs them.Ido that! Liam learned how to read because I taught him—before he ever got to fucking school, because I was nineteen and I honestly had nocluewhat he was supposed to know. I didn’t need your help then, and I don’t need it now.”

I wait for him to leave. To tell me that he knew I was like this, worthless, terrible. A bitch, too angry and unlovable.

But he only stands there, quiet and solemn.

My breath is shuttering and I’m pretty sure I’m crying—which is embarrassing enough, but I keep my face furious, arms crossed. I want him to leave, I need him to—

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