Page 16 of Splintered Memories
I speared him with another glare, ignoring the slight grin that curled August’s lips in my periphery. “I am what you made me, I suppose,” I said, my tone soft, but venomous.
That made him stiffen, and I thought I saw a flash of grief flit over his face. “I’m here on your behalf, Emersyn. I’m here to help you.”
I scoffed. “I highly doubt it.”
He took a step toward me, and my back straightened. Even from across the room, he felt too close.
His brows pinched. “You’re in danger. You know that.”
My pulse quickened.You’re in danger.I hoped he couldn’t see the exhaustion in my eyes from the sleep I hadn’t been able to find since the shooting. The gunshots echoed in my ears every time I tried to close my eyes.
I still didn’t know much about the shooting. I’d been questioned and sent on my way, like nothing had happened. In my mind, I was trying to cling to the possibility that those shots hadn’t been intended for me. I didn’t want to overreact before I had all the facts.
I pushed back my shoulders. “I can take care of myself.”
My father’s eyes sharpened, like he could sense my bravado. “I’d rather not take that risk.”
I blinked. “You almost sound like you care,” I said, before I could stop myself.
My father’s entire body went rigid. His eyes widened, anger and pain swirling in them like a tornado of rising emotions he couldn’t get hold of quickly enough. He took another step forward.
Every part of me wanted to back up, but there was nowhere to go, my desk solid and unmovable behind me.
“Why the hell would you ever think that I wouldn’t care that my daughter’s life was being threatened?” His voice was a mixture of sharp steel and stabbing hurt. “You and your brother are the only things I have left.”
A burn flared in my chest. After all these years, after everything we had been put through,nowhe cared about us? Now, when we were all grown, was when he made an effort to protect us?
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you want.” I forced the words out, hammering away all feeling from them so he wouldn’t see the confusion and pain blazing inside me. I kept a firm grip on that emotion,keeping it locked down. That imaginary hand inside my chest kept an iron-clad hold on it.
My father’s eyes widened. “I want you to stay safe,” he said, a desperation in his voice that I had never heard before.
A pang twisted in my chest again.
After a long pause, I answered, “I have a new security system. I have cameras all around this house. I’m not that reckless. I know how to be safe.”
My father shook his head. “It’s not enough.”
I frowned, and a realization dawned, one that had my stomach lurching. My gaze snapped to August, and then back to my father. He seemed to read the understanding in my expression because he nodded.
“No,” I said, so fast the words toppled over one another. “Definitely not. No.”
My father scoffed. “Calm down, Emersyn. He’s going to be your bodyguard, not your prison guard.”
My heart sputtered. I wasn’t sure there was a difference between those two things. I had no idea what my father thought he was doing, waltzing back into my life after five years, only to regain control of it.
My head shook back and forth. “No,” I said firmly, with finality. I wasn’t going to let a freaking bodyguard trail me around this little town. I wouldn’t put myself under my father’s power. And most of all, I wasn’t going to allow August Ramsey to get that close to me.
My father let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Yes.” He said the word so simply, as if my compliance were inevitable. “You need protection.” I opened my mouth to argue again, but he put up a hand. “Youwilldo this, Emersyn.”
My jaw clenched, rage bubbling up from my core. “Or what?” I said, in challenge. “What are you going to do to me? I don’t need anything from you anymore.”
I spat the words, wanting them to slap him right across the face.
My father didn’t even flinch. If anything, he looked more tired than threatened. He ran a hand over his short beard; the lines around his eyes deepened as he regarded me with weariness. “You might not need anything from me anymore,” he said softly, cautiously, as if he knew what he said next would hit me hard, “but your brother does.”
Fire lit inside my chest, burning so hot it scalded my lungs, making my breath catch. “You wouldn’t,” I breathed.
He knew how fragile Jake was right now. He was a year sober, but he had a long way to go. He just moved into that apartment, was finally getting on his feet and rebuilding his life. I was confident he’d get to a place where he wouldn’t need our father’s charity to get by, but that time was not now.
