Page 89 of The All-Inclusive

“It isn’t that bad,” she insists. “I can feel the bone poking my skin from inside, but it hasn’t broken through. That’s good, right?”

Oh my God.

“No, Mom.” I try to stay calm, but that ship sailed a long time ago. “It’s not good at all. What did Dad do to you?”

“It was an accident,” she says. “We were talking, and he tried to get away. I grabbed his arm to stop him, and he pushed me and—” She dissolves into big, wracking sobs. “It’s my fault, Trent. He shouldn’t get in trouble for that.”

Red clouds my vision as I rush toward the door. Screw pity.I’m fucking furious. “I’m on my way now,” I insist. “If you won’t call an ambulance, I fucking will.”

“But honey?—”

“Now,Mom. I’ll call you back in ten minutes.” I end the call without waiting for a response. With a hand on the doorknob, I turn to face Sara and Logan. “I have to go.”

“Trent, oh my God.” She leaps off the bed with tears in her eyes. “Your dad hurt your mother again?”

It’s that one word that gets me.

Again.

The pattern of violence and anger. I could have fucking stopped it, and I didn’t. Just one more failure on a list that keeps getting longer.

“There’s a 5 p.m. flight from Negril.” I assessed all escape routes before coming here. Not for this reason, but because that’s what I’m trained to do. “If I hurry, I’ll make the next shuttle boat.”

“Trent, wait.” She rushes to hug me, to offer relief.

But the last thing I need is her kindness. I don’t deserve one tiny bit of it.

“Let me help.” Logan stands, too. “My mom runs an international network for battered women. If you want?—”

“I don’t want any help.” I don’t deserve that. My mother might need it, but finding her medical aid is the biggest priority now. “Just, please—give me some space.”

Shoving open the door, I sprint from the room.

From the only two people I want in this moment.

My journeyback home is a blur. If I called Ashton Holyfield and explained the emergency, he’d fly me home fast on his private jet. I’d probably make it to Portland in half the time.

But I’m too fucking ashamed to do that, so I do the next best thing.

I call Beck.

My cousin answers on the first ring. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Headed back from a private sex island in the Caribbean.” I wince at how bougie that sounds. “You still in Seattle?”

“Yes.”

I speak in a rush, spewing words I’m not sure will make sense. I share what I know, trusting Beck to fill in the blanks. He lived with my parents, he knows what it’s like.

I don’t even get the full story out before Beck interrupts. “I’m on my way.” There’s a pause as he quickly explains things to Cam, and I hear a low gasp of surprise.

“Trent?” Beck’s back on the line now. “I’m flying the Cessna and I’ll be there in an hour. Cam’s gonna drive the rental car separately with the kids. I’ll be on the ground in Portland by five. When will you get there?”

“Not that quick.” Even without the time difference, Beck will beat me by hours. I’m so fucking grateful for my cousin right now. “Just—can you make sure she gets to the hospital? I called 911, but they can’t force her to go in an ambulance if she refuses. I don’t even know where my dad is right now.”

Beck lets out a long string of curses, so I know what he thinks of my father. Like I didn’t already.

The fact that he’s willing to help her when she shut him out like she did?—

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