Page 89 of From the Wreckage
Silence slams down like a hammer. My father stares at me as if I’ve just torn his heart out with my bare hands. His face crumples, not with anger this time, but with something far worse—pure heartbreak.
His voice lowers, thick with grief. “Then you’re not the daughter I thought I raised,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he turns away like he can’t even look at me.
The floor drops out from under me. My knees weaken, my chest caves, but I can’t take it back. I grip the counter to stay upright, my heart physically aching.
Grief claws up my throat. Everything has fractured. My relationship with my dadandEverett.
His words put doubt in my head. The image sears me—the way I begged Everett to fight, and he just stood there, mute,while my dad tore us apart. My dad’s words gutted me, but Everett’s silence hurt worse. Because silence isn’t a defense—it’s surrender.
What my dad just said...I swallow hard.Could it be true? Did Everett use me?
Tears flow down my face as the horrible reality seeps in.
Maybe this is it. The end of summer. The end of us.
CHAPTER 64
Brielle
The cabin creakswith every groan of the old floorboards as my dad paces his bedroom, his muttered words too low for me to make out. But hearing his voice is better than his silence and disappointment, which sent me running to my room, collapsing on my bed in a flood of tears.
When the silence finally comes, I know he’s gone to bed.
But I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. Not without Everett.
Not without answers.
I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers before sneaking downstairs to the door, opening and closing it soundlessly as I slip out.
The tears don’t stop burning tracks down my face. The night air is cool against my swollen eyes. My shoes whisper over the grass, carrying me to the one place I’m not supposed to go.
Everett’s cabin glows faintly, a single lamp in the living room. My heart stutters when I see him through the window—slouched on the couch, his elbows braced on his knees, his head in his hands.
When I push the door open, he doesn’t look up right away.
When he finally does, the sight of him wrecks me all over again.
His lip is swollen, a dark bruise blooming along his jaw where Dad’s fist landed. The blood is gone, but the mark remains, stark against his pale skin.
“Bri…” His voice is low, rough, and frayed at the edges. He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe I’m standing here. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I cross the room before I can stop myself, falling to my knees in front of him. My hands clutch at his shirt, trembling. “Say something. Please. Fight for me. For us.” My voice cracks on the plea. “Don’t let this be the end.”
His eyes close, pain twisting his features. His fists clench on his knees, knuckles turning white, like he’s holding himself together with sheer will.
“You don’t understand,” he rasps. “Your dad’s right. I should’ve stayed away from you from the start. I should’ve?—”
“No.”My voice shatters. I grab his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. The hair covering his jawline is rough under my palms, his swollen lip trembling.
“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare do this. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care what he thinks. I love you.”
For a heartbeat, something flickers in his eyes. Something that looks like hope. Desperation. The war I know he’s been fighting since the first time he touched me.
Then it’s gone.
He grips my wrists gently but firmly, peeling my hands away. “You deserve more than me, angel. A life your father won’t hate you for. A man who won’t ruin you.”
“You won’t ruin me.” My sobs tear through the words. “You saved me. You make me whole. You?—”
