Page 82 of Snowbound
I turned, facing him.
“We’re swimming,” I said.
He didn’t look at me. Not really. He looked past me, his eyes locked on her.
“Emma,” he barked. “Get your ass out of that water.”
It pissed me off that he aimed it at her—like she was the problem.
I was swimming right there with her. Right fucking beside her.
“Hey,” I snapped. “She was only swimming.”
“You gettin’ smart with me now, boy?” he said, that voice dropping to something darker. Something that hit in the gut.
It made my stomach flip, even though I was taller now, broader.
He hadn’t laid a hand on me in a couple of years, but it looked like he might today.
“All I’m saying is—we’re just swimming.”
“Right,” he said, his voice scathing. “Just swimming. Half-naked. Together.”
He looked at us like we were something filthy.
“Get the fuck out before someone sees you,” he snapped. “If your mother saw you, Emma?—”
Her cheeks flushed crimson. She climbed out, dripping, small. Ashamed.
Right then, I decided I'd take whatever punishment he wanted to throw.
I’d protect her. I’d carry it.
She’d be half-eaten with guilt, but I’d take the full weight.
“It wasmyidea,” I lied. “I told her to come. I thought it’d be fun. Nothing happened.”
He rounded on me, his fist raised.
“Stop being a fucking gobshite,” I said before I could think.
The swing came fast. I ducked, blocking it. Ducked another.
I wouldn't hit him.
I couldn’t.
He was still my father.
But I wouldn’t let him hit me, either.
“You absolute bollocks?—”
“Stop!” Emma screamed. “Stop! Please, don’t fight! We were just swimming!”
He grabbed her by the arm, and something in me snapped. Red. Blinding. Final.
I’d never raised my hand to him. Not once.
