Page 4 of Wrecked
How unfortunate for her because that man is a deep, beautiful soul. That man also let his fear take the reins and hurt me in a way he can never undo.
“Are you going deaf, Pip? Or have you just gotten really good at ignoring me?” A deep voice filled with humor brings me back to the present. The gruff sound immediately gratifies every single inch of my skin, setting my nerves on fire and sendinggoosebumps across my flesh. I flip over and look up at the hulking figure blocking the sun from my eyes.
“I said, ‘Hi.’” His eyes crinkle as he fights the smile trying to take over his face. He always found my ability to daydream and block out the world amusing. I always found his amusement endearing.
Now, I find it annoying.
I audibly sigh, letting my gaze travel up his imposing body until it connects with the rich emerald green of his eyes. The bitterness hits me a little harder than normal after all the wedding talk. Even so, our connection is just as strong as it was eight years ago. A connection I’ve tried to ignore for years, but one that doesn’t appear to be waning. A connection that I don’t think is one-sided. Which is pretty unfortunate considering the man looking at me with what I’d describe as carefully disguised yearning, is going to be marrying my sister in six weeks.
“Hi, Nate.”
CHAPTER 2
NATE (SENIOR YEAR, HIGH SCHOOL)
Islam the front door shut and hurry out of my house before I take a swing at that repulsive motherfucker. The resounding crash of connecting wood rings loudly in the air, signifying the promise of a debt I’ll have to pay later.
My eye will already be sporting the restitution for my C minus in physics,anotherinjury I’ll have to blame on football. I learned pretty quickly not to hit back. I can take that asshole down in seconds, but it will only send him into a rage equivalent to a nuclear explosion. That type of anger isn’t safe for my little sister to be around.
Better me than her, always.
I’d never let him touch her, so I’ve been taking the brunt of his wrath since I was old enough to stand up to him. I stopped fighting back the day he pulled out his Smith and Wesson and held it to Emmy’s head.
She was six.
I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. I know his rage will transfer back to my mom after I leave, but I can’t seem to find any fucks to give. Especially considering she doesn’t seem to have any for me. She can leave if she wants to. She can show theworld exactly who the man she married really is. She can choose her kidsfor once. Instead, she chooses the lifestyle he provides.
My only concern is Emmy. After I leave, who will protect her? I vow to come back for her as soon as I graduate college. I will take that piece of shit down the second I am out from under his thumb. Something my older brother never bothered with.
I remember the day Wes left. I couldn’t believe he would leave me behind to face our father alone. The fact that he never came back to check on us, onme, felt like a punishment worse than death. One day he was my protector, the next he was just…gone.
After taking his spot as heir to the family shit-show, I understand why he shunned the Westin legacy and abandoned this life. I’m on track to do the same, but I won’t leave Emmy in the ruins of my departure. I’ll come back for her, but once I walk across that stage, I won’t be coming back foranythingelse.
Once I walk across that stage.
Yeah,ifI get my physics grade up. I need to keep my scholarship if I want to have an expense-free college experience and cut my father off like the life-draining tumor he is. It’ll be the talk of our small town. Both of Nathaniel Westin’s boys cut off from the family fortune. They’ll wonder what is wrong withus,of course. Not withtheNathaniel Westin.
From the outside, we look like the average high-class family. A nice, manicured lawn, a wife dressed to the nines, and well-behaved children involved in all the extracurriculars.
Charity events.
Banquets.
Fundraisers.
Drunken fists.
Broken noses.
Black eyes.
The colorful hydrangeas provide a nice distraction from the blood-stained carpets.
All of my injuries can be explained away with high impact sports. It’s why he stopped hitting my mother and started beating his children. There aren’t many reasons for a stay-at-home socialite to end up with a broken arm or a black eye.
My father is a highly decorated district attorney with far greater aspirations. Perfect career record. Perfect family. Perfect at hiding his busted knuckles. He’s on the path to a prominent political career, vying for a seat as a federal judge.
Nathaniel Westin didn’twantchildren. Heneededchildren to maintain his ideal image. The illusion of a doting family man tosses dirt over all of his skeletons, while commanding a misguided level of trust.
