Page 118 of Ramsay

I’m too tired to think and head for the stairs only to turn when my dad says, “Will?”

“Yeah?” Dread curls around my heart but I force another smile, hoping something ridiculously mundane will follow. Stupid hopes, they never cause anything but pain.

“There's someone here to see you.”

He blinks his tired eyes and gestures toward the table. When I round the corner, I’m surprised to find Mom's chair empty, but I stop up short because sitting in the seat beyond is none other than Ramsay’s dad.

What the fuck is he doing here?

“Hello, Willow. I’m Richard Yates, Ramsay’s dad.”

His cool brown eyes assess me from a stern countenance that screams—warning. Since my dad is right behind me, I have no choice but to play nice which is why I say, “Okay.”

Dad nudges my shoulder and I drop into the seat farthest from Yates before resting my chin in my hand. It’s not an act, I’m so fucking tired, spots are dancing before my eyes. But I’ll take it if he views me as an insolent teen, because the alternative could be dangerous.

His eyes drop to my other hand, clenched on the table before he clears his throat. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but I came because I’m worried.”

“Worried?” Dad says. “Who’s Ramsay?”

“A friend from school,” I say and Yates nods.

“Ramsay is my son and I care about him, but I can’t allow his deplorable behavior to go on. You’ve been suffering from some unkind pranks at school?”

I can’t exactly deny it because a single call to my school would confirm it, but I want to. Something about this stinks and I’m not referring to his overpriced cologne.

With an exhale, I nod because the words are stuck behind a lump in my throat. What’s coming next?

“Well, I want you to know his mother and I will be addressing the issue,” Yates says.

“Pranks? Will?” Dad says, turning to me with wide eyes.

“I’m fine, Dad,” I murmur, a kernel of resentment burning my chest. This man is creating waves in a house already torn asunder by a fucking tsunami. Dick.

“Yes, well rest assured; the matter is being dealt with. I wanted to personally apologize and tell you that starting now, he’s on watch.”

Whatever that means. Ha! Ramsay isn’t the type to take shit from anyone, especially his parents.

“Um, thanks,” I say, relieved when he stands.

Thank fuck. His mere presence makes my skin crawl. Not to mention, I have a feeling the jig is up. Why else would he be in my home? He’s an excellent fucking actor though because I see no recognition in his shining eyes.

Dad rises to escort him to the door, but Yates pauses in the threshold and turns back to me. Sucking in a quiet breath, I watch as he pulls a slim book from his jacket and places it on the table before me.

“I think this belongs to you…Cherry,” he says gently before touching my shoulder.

I flinch away and he drops his hand. Although I knew this was coming, I’m still reeling, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing but I wait until Dad has him at the front door before shoving it down the front of my shirt and heading for the stairs.

My heart is in my fucking throat and I’m fighting back vomit as Dad says, “Pranks? What’s going on, Will?”

Forcing the lump back, I manage to croak, “It’s nothing Dad, I’m fine.”

“Okay? Um, does this have anything to do with what happened in the woods? Your wrist?”

Does it? I don’t know but I guess I better find out.

Chuffing out a laugh, I say semi hysterically, “No Dad. I fell.”

I don’t give him time to respond before I race up the stairs and lock my door. Once I’m alone, I pull out the book and let it drop from my frozen fingers to the floor.

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