Page 70 of Castaway Whirlwind
Steven’s cheating is news to me, though it doesn’t surprise me because Cooke is right on the money—he really is a narcissistic loser. Russell was right, too—if it weren’t for my dad, I never would have stayed with him, no matter if I could afford to leave him or not.
Cooke pleads for Harper to listen. “He couldn’t stand that Layla moved on and was happier without him. Steven abused her then, and he’s abusing her now, just like he is you, Harp.”
Harper slips her arms under Cooke’s, wrapping them around her sister’s back as she cries on the shoulder of Cooke’s uniform. “He loves me. We’re going to get married when he gets out and start the family he’s always wanted.”
Mr. Montes’s hand hovers in the air, not quite touching me as he guides me out of the room ahead of him. Cooke’s voice trails behind us when she says, “That’s not love, Harp. He doesn’t want a family—he wants to trap you with a baby, and I think you know it’s true, even if you don’t want to believe it. You deserve better, just like Layla.”
I’m so frazzled and exhausted and running on empty that I can’t muster more than a huff when Elliott slides out of a dim side hallway when I’m led to the front of the station. We have to wait nearly an hour to collect my things, along with a few others who hadn’t been released en masse earlier on Sheriff Gibson’s orders once he found out what his officers had executed while he was away.
Mr. Montes extends his hand to shake Elliott’s. “Call me when your brother needs representation.”When, notif.
Once I get my purse back, missing the cash I don’t know willever be returned, Elliott leads me silently out of the lobby to his Bronco parked under a broken lamp. “What about Russell?” I ask. “Shouldn’t we wait for him, or—where is he?”
“It’s better you don’t know,” Elliott says, remaining silent for the rest of the drive home while my mind spins with worst-case scenarios, wondering if Russell is going to end up in prison beside Steven, giving Russell the perfect opportunity to kill him. I rub my temples, praying the future we’ve been planning won’t be abruptly cut short before it ever really got started.
When we turn onto my driveway, pulling in behind Trace’s parked truck on the U, I poke my hopefully future-brother-in-law in his massive bicep. “You tell me right now where he is, or I swear I’m going to ugly cry all over your car and make you hug me until I feel better.”
Elliott heaves a long, defeated sigh, leaning away from me. “He’s at my place.”
“Is he going to kill Allen?”
Elliott combs his silvery-gray strands back on his head impatiently, then throws open his door without answering my question. “I’ll wait with you until he gets home.” After pushing me inside the dimly lit house and locking the door behind us, he steps past and dips in and out of doorways on the first floor.
I stop short at the entrance of the living room when Trace holds his index finger to his lips. “Shhh.” Standing at the kitchen island with a glass of water, wearing only a pair of Cora’s light pink sweatpants knotted tight around his hips, he points upstairs and whispers, “Princess and Little G are asleep. So is Paul.”
Given what I witnessed at the bar, I don’t know why I botherasking Trace, “Soooo, you and Cora, huh?” I drop my purse on the kitchen table and lower myself on a chair to yank my boots off.
“Yeah, me and Princess,” Trace says with a goofy smile, his cheeks blooming pink. He puffs out his lean, bruised chest, smiling proudly despite his eyes nearly swollen shut. “When you know, you know.”
“Sounds familiar,” I say with a matching grin, wiggling my pinched toes and checking my heels for blisters after peeling my white tube socks down since my boots hadn’t been properly broken in yet.
Trace snaps his fingers as if he’s just remembered something. “By the way, I moved in since I share an apartment with two dudes, and it’s not fit for my future wife and son. Hope you don’t mind.”
I blink a few times before laughing. “No, I don’t mind,” I answer truthfully, stretching my arms above my head with a yawn. “The more, the merrier. But no filming thirst traps in front of the house. We like our privacy out here.”
“Aw, man, really?” Trace groans, thoughtfully passing me a fresh glass of water. “Don’t you know how many views I’d get? One viral video, and I could make bank.”
“Them’s the rules,” I say with a raised brow, taking a long, satisfying swallow. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
Trace huffs with faux annoyance. “Fine, whatever you say, roomie.”
A key turns in the lock on the front door, and my hope that it’s Russell returning home is dashed when Max tries to blow past me. He’s as banged up and bruised as Trace when he goes after my new roommate, and I stick my foot out to trip Max, sending him sprawling on the floor.
I shoot up out of my chair and slam my glass down on the table. “You are no longer welcome here,” I snap, sensing Elliott at my back, which is the only reason Max doesn’t come after me when he gets to his feet. “And I want my house key back.”
“Gladly, bitch,” Max spits, struggling to thread the bronze key off his key ring since his fingers are so stiff, maybe even broken. He slaps it so hard in my open palm that it stings.
“Oh, hell no!” I dart in front of Max when he turns to go upstairs. I back up five steps so I’ll be a few inches taller than he is, stopping Elliott and Trace from approaching on either side with my hands held up.This is something I need to do on my own. “You’re not going up there. I’ll pack your stuff and forward it to you.”
Max fists his bloody hands, one dusty boot on the first step, then limps up the second and third. “I’m not leaving without my family.”
“They’re not yours anymore—you don’t deserve them,” I say staunchly, standing tall, keeping my aching knees from knocking together like they want to. I won’t let Max intimidate me into retreating and cowering in my own home.
Max ignores me and hollers, “Cora! Get your ass out here! We’re leaving!”
“No!” I shove Max, though I only manage to knock him back one step. “My house, my rules, my family! She’s not going anywhere with you.”
“Damn right!” Trace adds, his black and blue jaw clenching as he slinks closer on bare feet, his cheeks turning red with fury.
