Page 33 of From the Wreckage
Dad’s head jerks toward me. His feet eat up the distance between us, concern on his face. He grips my shoulders gently, his eyes searching mine. “Is that true, kiddo? Did he hurt you?”
I nod, sniffling. “He grabbed my wrist hard and yanked me to him when I tried to leave.”
Dad’s face hardens, his jaw like stone as he turns back to Joey. “You need to leave. Rightnow. You don’t lay a hand on my daughter. Ever.”
“I—Mr. Kincaid?—"
“Don’t.” Dad holds up a hand, his tone final. “Just leave.”
As Joey turns and walks back inside the house, my eyes move to my dad. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, guilt clogging my throat.
He wraps his arm around me, squeezing me to him. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. This isn’t on you.”
Inside, Meghan steps into the doorway. “I think it’s best if I leave with Joey.”
I stare at her in disbelief. The words cut deep. She doesn’t meet my eyes as she turns and hurries after him.
Dad mutters something about dessert and stomps back inside, still furious.
Everett lingers, his body a taut line of fury, eyes locked on the doorway where Joey disappeared. Without saying a word, he turns, descends the steps, and hurries around the side of the cabin.
Confusion surges as I take off after him.
When I round the corner of the cabin, Everett and Joey stand there like they’re about to face off.
Joey’s voice carries over to me, floating on the cool twilight air. “This isn’t over.”
Everett doesn’t flinch. He steps closer, towering over him, every muscle tight with control. His voice is lethal. “You’re right. It’s not. You go near Bri again, I’ll end you.”
The silence that follows is as sharp as glass.
And I know, deep down, Everett means every word.
CHAPTER 23
Everett
I don’t moveuntil Joey’s taillights disappear down the road. My chest heaves with the effort of keeping myself in check. One more second, and I would’ve snapped his neck.
The second he’s gone, I whirl around, closing the distance between Bri and me in three strides. She looks so small standing there, her arms wrapped around herself, her wrist already red where he grabbed her.
I cup her face, my thumbs brushing the damp track of her tears on her cheeks. “Are you okay?” My voice is hoarse, almost breaking with the force of everything I’m holding back.
She nods, but it’s shaky, her hazel eyes glassy. “I… I think so.”
My hands slide down, carefully circling her wrists, checking the one he touched. My jaw clenches at the angry mark blooming there. “He hurt you.”
“It’s nothing,” she whispers, but her voice trembles.
“It’s not nothing.” My head bows, my forehead nearly touching hers. “If he ever touches you again, Bri, I swear to God?—”
“Everett.” She cuts me off gently, her fingers brushing over mine. “You already did enough. You stopped him.”
Stopped him.The words rattle around inside me. Stopping isn’t enough. Protecting her, keeping her safe—making damn sure she never feels that fear again—that’s what I want.
The back door creaks open. Grayson’s voice booms, sharp but distracted. “Bri? Dessert’s ready.” He disappears inside again, giving us a few more seconds.
I press my lips into her hair, just once, breathing her in like I can anchor myself with her scent. “Angel…” My voice breaks. “You didn’t deserve any of this. Not him. Not tonight. None of it.”
