Page 50 of Fall Into Me

“Because as it stands,” he said, ignoring me, “You’ve arrived in town,”—he held up a finger—“let her think you’re going to tear it all apart for your sperm donor,”—he raised another finger—“and fed her underwear to her dog.” A third finger joined the others.

Yes, okay, I fed her underwear to her dog. But she’d done nothing but ignore me and disconnected my car battery.

Fine, you know what? Yes. I was being a dick.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “It’s like this reflex, okay? She pushes, and I push back. It’s the only time I get anything fuckingrealfrom her.”

“Mmm.” Ash nodded, taking another sip of beer. “Your plan sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.” I took a sip of my own beer, my head dropping to hang between my shoulders.

“And you won’t tell her why you’re really here?”

“She won’t believe me.”

“You won’t even entertain the idea of explaining why the last two years happened?”

Before I could answer, Dallas Grey walked right up to our table.

“Fancy seein’ you here!”

“Mr. Grey,” I said, standing to shake his hand. “Nice to see you. This is my friend Ashton.” I gestured to Ash before sitting back down.

Dallas Grey walked into the room like he owned it, radiating warmth with a sun-kissed smile that seemed to light up the whole bar. But behind the easy charm, there was a ruggedness that demanded respect. He was proof that a man could be hard without being cruel, a lesson I didn’t learn growing up.

Before I met him, I would’ve associated that kind of hardness with brutality. But Dallas proved otherwise. The crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the lightness in his hazel gaze—so much like his daughter’s—made it clear: being hard didn’t mean being heartless.

The differences between this man and my own father, the foundation of what I had grown up believing, were black and white. It made that pulsing flare of rage that flickered in and out of existence in the center of my chest flair, just for a second.

The house had been quiet for so long that I’d started to find comfort in it. It was probably close to one in the morning now. I’d heard my mom walk up the stairs and gently close the door to her bedroom an hour ago.

Every single creak of the house made my eyes fly open.

Sometimes it was only minutes, sometimes seconds. The fleeting moments of sleep between each and every noise were things I wished I could have more of and less of all at once.

My eyes had started to droop just as the front door slammed shut. I didn’t even remember moving, only staring wide-eyed at the door to my bedroom and keeping as quiet as possible,huddled against the headboard of my bed. I wished it was the wind, wished it was a car outside.

Wished this was anybody else’s life but mine.

The way my father’s footfalls sounded on the stairs had always terrified me. He was so much bigger than me, and I swore sometimes I could hear them even when they weren’t there. They followed me around in the silent and empty house.

I clutched at the front of my shirt with small, white-knuckled fists. Hating, not for the first time, that I was so pathetically small. By far the smallest boy in the seventh grade. If I had a single wish, it would be that I could be so much bigger than him. That I could be strong enough to protect my mom from him.

I wanted him to look at me with the same fear that he loved seeing in our faces. That thought scared me most of the time because it made me feel like I was one decision away from becoming just like him.

My mom’s panicked pleading seeped in under the door of my room, sending my heart thrashing in my chest. I used to run out to her. To call out to her. But it had only taken the back of his hand connecting with the side of my face once to know that doing that only made things worse for her.

“Do you see what you made me do?” He’d seethed from above me, a hand knotted in her long, chestnut hair. A hold she’d fought against valiantly in an attempt to get to me. I’d felt the blood dribbling out the corner of my mouth, felt the tears that leaked from my eyes, but I stayed silent.

Silence was safe. Even when it wasn’t, it was still safer than making any noise at all.

The door to my room burst open, and the very center of all my nightmares filled the doorframe. Eyes red-rimmed. The buttons on his shirt missing like they’d been ripped off.

He stalked toward me, grabbed a fist full of the back of my shirt, and dragged me out of my room.

I saw her there, lying at the bottom of the stairs. The silent, racking sobs that made her body shiver. The only indication she was alive. He dragged me down the steps that were littered with the missing buttons of his shirt and stepped over my mother like she wasn’t even there.

Like this person, who he was supposed to love and care for and protect at all costs, didn’t mean a fucking thing to him.

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