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He’s mine.
If he takes me, he won’t hurt them.
21
GRAYSON
My mind races with thoughts that are moving so fast and are so scattered that I can’t comprehend, let alone understand them. In my truck, my hands shake almost uncontrollably, blood dripping from my knuckles. Not because of hitting that piece of shit, but from punching my windshield.
Not my brightest move, but I haven’t done a lot of thinking lately.
I can’t fucking believe this bullshit. But then again, I can. That guy is a fucking tool, yet she’s willingly leaving with him. How could she?
She had a mark on her face. She tried to hide but I saw it.
I saw the grip he had on her and am convinced it’s more than that mark on her face. But fuck, why? How could she allow this? Why would she after everything her mom went through?Why?
Without thinking, I slam my fist into the windshield again. This time the crack splits across the entire glass and I’m assuming my knuckles. I don’t look at it, but judging by the wetness I feel and the pale expression from Ethan next to me, it’s bleeding a good amount.
“That’s one way of dealing with it.” Ethan snorts, screwingthe cap back on the flask he had tucked into his back pocket most of the night.
I wrap my hand up in my flannel I have on the seat next to me.
“We have to do something,” Ethan grumbles, shaking his head as his knee bounces.
Tying the flannel with my teeth, I pull until it’s tight enough my hand feels numb. “Doing something would have been not letting her date that douchebag in the first place.”
Yeah, it’s a low blow, but when you’re drunk, angry, and ready to not only blame but take on the world for everything that’s gone wrong, you say and do what you never thought.
“Fuck you,” he grumbles. “We both know she wouldn’t have listened to me. After you left, she needed to lose herself.”
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense at all,” I snap.
He stares at me. “Why are we talking? Start driving. Go to his house.” He flips his hand in front of him. “That’s probably where he took her.”
“I don’t know where he lives.”
“Back behind the Miller property. He’s renting their cabin.”
I turn the key in the ignition, the engine quickly rumbling to life. Before I can shift the truck into gear, my dad is at the window, leaning in with Frankie behind him glaring at us. “You’re only going to make matters worse!” Frankie yells at me in particular.
I ignore her, but it’s not easy when Dad leans in and removes my keys from the ignition.
“Give me those,” I seethe, trying to grab them.
Before I can, he pockets them, his hands on my hand wrapped up in my flannel. “Get out of the truck, Grayson.”
“No!” I shout, but I open the door anyway and get out because I need my keys and he has them. In my state of mind of fucked up, I’m ready to fight my dad for my goddamn keys if it means I can stop Shane from hurting Evie. “Give me my keys!”
Dad backs up another step, his palms raised. “I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can! Give me my fucking keys!” I get in his face. “Give them to me!” I scream, cry, slam my fists into his chest. He takes it because he’s my father. He takes it because he’s not going to let me ruin my life over this guy. Because right now, I want to kill Shane, and if I find him, there’s no saying I won’t, and I know exactly where that will get me.
A life without Evie.
Coming back from war, it’s like holding a carbonated soda in your hand that you’ve shaken up. It’s ready to blow. It’s going to the moment you twist off the cap. You can either unscrew it and let it burst, or you can slowly release the cap. Little bits of pressure released until you can take a drink.
But that guy, the one held up by his truck, shaking with a mixture of fear and anger, he took the cap off and let it explode in his face.