Page 100 of Burn With Me

“I know you and her don’t get along, but—”

“What?” I pivot to face him. “What do you know about whether or not we get along?” I demand, following it up with my own answer. The real answer. “Nothing,” I say. “You don’t know shit about our relationship because you haven’t been around. Then, when I finally move closer to you—you leave. Are you running away from me? From her? Us?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” I agree. “Life isn’t fair. Doesn’t matter.”

“My point is,” he says, “we could’ve talked to her together—told her the truth and told her that he was using her. We could’ve—”

“She won’t listen,” I say, stopping whatever other excuse he’s got. He still doesn’t get it. Even if he’s been away for four years, he should know our mother just as well as I do. “She only hears what she wants to hear,” I tell him, “and I don’t think we have the time to wait around for the honeymoon phase to fade out.”

“Why? What do you know?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I reply as Marcus’ rented SUV comes around the drive, the lights flashing as it turns. “What’s done is done. It can’t be taken back.”

“Rori—” I leave him behind even as he calls for me and descend the stairs. The valet gets out of the car and leaves the driver’s side door open. Marcus’ footsteps pound against the stairs behind me as I round the front of the vehicle. I have no intention of waiting for him. “Hey! Rori!”

I get into the driver’s side and hit the lock button just as he slams into the door, gripping the handle and trying to rip it open before I drive off. I’m calm—probably far too calm for the riot of emotions cascading through me. My seatbelt clicks into place and I slap the button on the driver’s side door to roll the window on the passenger side down. It’s just enough to see and hear Marcus cursing, but not enough for him to reach inside and unlock the door.

“Catch a ride with Aunt Carmen,” I say. “Or call a car, I don’t care.”

“You can’t run away from this, Rori,” he snaps. “We need to talk about this. I’m not saying she doesn’t need to leave that bastard, but you should’ve told me before you decided to do anything.”

“Like you told me you were moving to Eastpoint in advance?” I retort.

“I did tell you,” he argues.

“With very little notice,” I remind him, “after knowing that I was coming to Hazelwood for months.”

He slaps his palm on the window and the car shudders under the violent onslaught. I don’t even blink. Behind him, the valet that brought the car and his partner glance at each other. I’m sure they’ve seen rich people cause a lot more issues than this. This is nothing.

“Rori, open this fucking door. We need to talk.”

I hit the button again and the window rolls up. My heeled foot slips over the gas and I unlock the parking brake, easing forward as Marcus scrambles along the side of the SUV. No. I’m tired of talking around in circles. With him. With Isaac. I did what I thought needed to be done.

I press down harder and Marcus’ form is left behind me rather than along the side of the car as I circle the drive and head back up towards the gates. He stands in the center of the rearview mirror, his hands raised up as he holds his head, no doubt cursing up a storm as I drive away.

I’ve started the process of ending my mother’s recent mistake and hopefully, in the light of day, she’ll finally come to her senses. Hopefully, they all will.

45

ISAAC

“Is it done?” Even as I shoot the question at Shep, I watch Emilia Summers being led from the room by her sister. Whispers are already starting. She did it. I wasn’t sure if she would, and I certainly didn’t expect her to do it like this—but she’s somehow managed to drive a wedge between our parents.

Relief is light in my chest but it’s not alone. It’s accompanied by a heavy sense of anxiety.

“Yeah,” Shep answers, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Paris is on his way back. He put tracking bugs in each of the crates. You can give your agent the info and he can find them.”

At least we managed to accomplish something tonight even if the rest of the evening has been an absolute shit show. From Eric Wood’s arrival to Aurora’s and my little rendezvous to the girls in the crates upstairs.

“Good.”

My father moves forward in the absence of Emilia, right up to Aurora. My heart drops into my stomach.

“Isaac.” Shep’s hand snaps out and latches onto my arm, but I’m already moving. The second Damien’s hand closes on Aurora’s arm, I jolt forward. “Don’t!” His voice is more whisper than shout, but I hear it pierce through my skull. It does nothing to halt the blaring unease in my head. He has to physically drag me back. I clench my hand into a fist, half tempted to reach back and punch him. “Not here,” he tells me.

Here. There. It doesn’t fucking matter where. He has his hands on her. My fucking father is touching what’s mine and he’s not being fucking gentle about it.

---