Page 52 of Lassoed Love

“Xavier, you can’t just show up at my place. I don’t know how my dad will react. I need my car.”

No chance in hell.“There’s no way I’m letting you drive in this state, Isla. I’ll park further down so he doesn’tspot the car—I promise.”

She looks at me with apprehension in her eyes, and I start the car, leaving behind the serenity of the night, our desire still softly lingering in the air, not forgotten.

Seated in the car, Isla guides me with directions. Glancing at her beside me, her worried expression alarms me. She bounces her knee anxiously, fidgeting with her dress—a telltale sign of her nervousness or anxiety that I’ve come to recognise.

I place my left hand on her thigh, gently gripping it to offer comfort. With my right hand manoeuvring the car, I slowly move my hand up and down her thigh, savouring the smoothness of her skin—almost like silk.

As we pull into the long driveway leading to her family home, the large white house with a huge wrap-around porch comes into view. Lights are on inside, indicating her father must be home. She’s probably wondering why he didn’t answer the phone. I park, as promised, a bit further down from the house, behind a massive pine tree. Leaving the ignition running, I turn off my lights, not wanting to draw too much attention.

Isla unclasps her seatbelt, but before she can leave, I place a hand on her stomach to hold her back. “Woah, woah. I don’t want you going in alone. I’m coming.” Isla whips her head back to me, shock inher eyes. “What? No, Xav, no way. You don’t understand, my father isn’t himself. If he sees you, he’ll lose his shit.”

Hold up. “Listen, what your father has going on with mine has nothing to do with us. It’s all bullshit, old news.”

Isla freezes. “W-wait. What? How do you know about that? What do you know?” she asks. She knows? How does she know?That’s a silly question, Xav.

“Just something about a job, money being owed. It’s no big deal, Isla—we’ll sort it out. I’m coming.”

“Money being owed? What?!” Isla pauses for a moment, as if thinking about something, before quickly saying, “No, Xavier, no! Please. I’ll be fine—he’s my father. I’ll text you if anything.” She stares at me intently, her eyes pleading, “Please... just stay here.”So, she doesn’t know about the ridiculous feud between her father and mine?

I sigh in frustration. “If I hear anything, I’m coming in.”

Isla nods, “Okay,” before heading out and closing the door. I watch with apprehension as she walks up the driveway, up the stairs to the porch, and into the house.

I don't like this. I don’t like it at all.

Minutes and seconds drag on, and I find myself restlessly toying with anything within reach to soothe the unease clawing at my throat.What’s taking so fucking long? Snatching my phone from the centre console, I hastily type out a message to Isla.

The message delivers, but there’s no reply. I wait, fixated on the screen as more agonising minutes and seconds slip away.

A distant noise jolts me out of my stupor.Huh?Glancing toward the house, I discern figures moving in the dim glow seeping through the windows. There’s a commotion inside—something clattering, voices in a frenzied exchange. I’m too far to catch the words.Fuck this.

I kill the engine, snatch my keys and phone, and step out. With a click, I lock the car behind me, trudging up the driveway. Thunder rumbles overhead, and dark clouds gather—a storm on the horizon, the inevitable result of the scorching heat we’ve endured. Just great.

My thoughts flit to the farm, the animals grazing in the pastures. I hope Dad senses the impending storm and guides them to the shelter of our barn.

Drawing closer to the house, the clamour intensifies. Isla’s father shouts urgently, his movements frantic. Isla’s gentle voice intertwines with his, a stark contrast to his deep, gruff tone.

As I reach the front porch, the escalating voices become clearer, and I can distinctly hear Isla and her father engaged in a heated argument. Tension hangs in the air, and I strain to catch the words.

Isla's voice maintains a steady calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil unfolding within the house. My gut tightens. Something’s seriouslywrong.

I hear her father’s distressed words, a worried inquiry about his misplaced belongings. He’s desperately trying to contact his wife, and panic drips from his every word. “Where is her damn phone?” he bellows.

Isla’s reply, though composed, holds a depth of understanding. “Dad, please. Just calm down. Mum’s not here. Remember?”

His confusion and desperation strike a chord in me. Is this what Mum warned me about? Poor Cal Thompson, grappling with dementia. The realisation stings, and I feel a pang of sympathy for him.

Then, the sound of something shattering pierces the air. My protective instincts kick in instantly. I dash up the porch steps and pound on the locked screen door. Damn it, Isla.

My knocks echo through the turmoil inside. I don't care about the consequences; I need to ensure Isla's safety. Her father seems to be teetering on the edge, his agitation escalating into something more aggressive.

“Isla! Open the damn door!” I yell, the urgency seeping into my voice. I can’t stand idly by, oblivious to whatever chaos is unfolding inside. My heart races, matching the tempo of the storm brewing both outside and within the walls of this troubled house.

23

For The Love Of A Daughter - Demi Lovato

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