Page 80 of Desperate Actions

His voice is low, edged with a dangerous finality.

“She goes home with me. And only me.”

My father growls menacingly. Thunder booms in the sky and lightning flashes. It’s going to rain any second now.

But none of that matters.

Sammy’s entire body goes taut like he’s waiting for the attack my father is so loudly threatening with his own posture.

My stomach drops.

Tension snaps through the air like a live wire.

Dad takes a step forward, his eyes narrowing.

“How do I know you didn’t coerce her?”

The accusation is terrible. And I am insulted for many reasons.

It shouldn’t bother me, shouldn’t dig into my skin like barbed wire.

But it does.

Because Dad doesn’t trust Sammy with me.

Doesn’t trust that I made this choice myself.

And that hurts.

More so, I’m angry at what he insinuates about my husband. Sammy doesn’t deserve that.

Everyone gasps.

“Dad!”

I step forward, my voice sharper than I intend, my pulse pounding painfully in my throat.

“How dare you say that about him! No one coerced me!”

My heart is racing, the sheer weight of everyone watching, waiting, judging pressing down on me.

I step closer to Sammy, pressing my palm against his chest, feeling the steady, solid beat of his heart beneath my hand.

“Sammy is the best person I know. He is honorable and honest. And I won’t let you talk about him that way,” I say.

“It’s alright, Pixie,” Sammy tries to calm me.

His arm tightens around my waist instinctively, as if to shield me from my father’s doubt.

“It’s not alright,” I tell him before turning to my father.

“Sammy is my husband, and I’m going home with him. Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez, thank you for the invitation, I hope it’s still open,” I say, my voice sure, unwavering.

“Of course,” Sammy’s father says, offering a slight bow.

My parents are having a heated, whispered conversation, and I know the second my mom wins because my father’s face is purple.

Whatever.

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