Page 174 of Prey for You

I waited for more.

And waited.

When he looked at Sam, then me again, a weird noise came out of my throat.

“That’s it?”

His throat bobbed. “I mean, the whole thing was bad,” he said, shifting his weight in his seat. “I wish I left you out of it.”

Sam moved imperceptibly, leaning his side into my back. Just being there, and I almost laughed.

“I wish you left me out of it, too,” I said bitterly. The tears came because it was maybe the truest thing I’d ever said. ExceptI love you,to Sam.

I cried sometimes saying that too.

I cried a lot more now than I used to. And at random times. Sometimes when I washappy.Gerald said it was because I was finally processing emotions I’d been holding onto since I was a child.

I didn’t know if it was that, or because when Sam held me it felt like I could be crazy and bad would happen. But I did know I was sick of crying, and I was willing to tryanythingto get past this whole fucked up situation.

Dad’s chin dropped and his brows pinched over his nose.

“I swear to God,” I hissed. “If you tell me not to cry—”

It had been hisrefrainfor those weeks when we were “on a road trip.” If he’d said that, or anything like it, Sam would have to hold me back from tearing his head off his neck.

Red, painted lines won’t holdmebackeither,you bastard.

But Dad stared at me and cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah. I can understand that,” he said finally.

It was so little. So very little.

So much nothing.

Hewas so little.

I blinked because I wanted to argue with that thought. My mind conjured images of my father—big, burly, angry, loud. And definitelyall bite.

For a second, I saw him as he had been—face twisted and tucking a gun into the back of his pants, hissing at me that we were leaving. But I shoved that memory away because I knew the next one—

“Do you want to talk? Or leave? Whatever helps you, babe,” Sam murmured.

“Do you even remember that whole time? That Christmas, after Mom?” I asked my father, and I wasn’t sure why those words came up, but they were there so I said them.

“Yeah. I remember,” he said, his lips twisting.

“Why did you threaten to kill me? I was a kid. I wasn’t doing anything.”

He frowned. “I didn’t—”

“Yes. Yes,you did!”I snarled, taking a step closer to the table. “You told me every time I cried, or went to the bathroom, or anything. You told me if I didn’t stay quiet and do as you said, you’d kill me.AfterI watched you kill mom and those other guys. Why, though? You didn’t need to do that to keep me from giving you up. You weremy father.”

Dad licked his lips and his eyes clouded. “I don’t remember.”

“Such bullsh—”

“No, I mean it. I don’t remember saying that to you. I thought…” he trailed off.

“What?” I said through my teeth. “What did youthink?”

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