Page 27 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

The smell of coffee and bacon pulls me from sleep. My body’s still buzzing from last night, every nerve strung tight, but I drag myself into shorts and a tee before padding into the kitchen. Dad’s at the stove, spatula in hand, humming along to the radio like nothing’s wrong.

“Morning, kiddo,” he says, his voice warm but edged with something heavier. “Eggs are almost done.”

“Morning.” I slide into my usual chair. He sets a steaming mug of coffee in front of me, and I curl my hands around it, grateful for the comfort.

For a few minutes, it’s just the sizzle of bacon and the clink of a spatula. But when he finally sits across from me, his brow is furrowed.

“I need to apologize,” he says.

My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “For what?”

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “For inviting Joey last night. I thought… Hell, I thought it would make you smile. But after what happened… the way he acted toward you...” His jaw flexes hard. “I don’t like it. I don’t like him, Bri. Not after that.”

A pang hits deep. For a moment, I see Joey’s face twisted with anger when he grabbed me. But it’s chased away by Everett’s intervention. The storm in his eyes, like he was ready to tear the world apart to protect me.

I push my eggs around my plate. “Dad… Joey and I aren’t together anymore. We broke up. So you don’t have to worry about him.”

Dad studies me, his hazel eyes softening as he reads the truth in my face. He nods, relief slipping through his shoulders. “Good. You deserve better than some cocky boy who doesn’t know how to treat you.” His voice drops, rough with emotion. “Damn near lost it when I found out he grabbed you.”

I force a small smile because I can’t stand seeing the guilt in his eyes. “It’s okay, Dad. Really.”

We eat in silence for a minute before he clears his throat. “There’s something else.”

My stomach dips, panic making my pulse race. “What is it?”

“I heard back from the insurance company about your car.”

I exhale slightly, relieved he didn’t find out about Everett and me on the dock last night.

But then my mind focuses on the other problem. I set my fork down, dread prickling. “And?”

His face pinches with regret. “The appraiser says the frame’s bent. It’s totaled.”

The word hits like a punch. My throat tightens, tears prickling my eyes before I can stop them. I press my hand to my forehead, fingers brushing the scab there, and reality sinks in. My car—the one Dad worked so hard to get me, the one I loved—is gone.

“Hey.” Dad’s voice softens. He covers my hand with his, grounding me. “Listen to me, kiddo. It’s just a car. You walked away from that accident. That’s what matters.”

“I know,” I whisper, though my chest still aches.

“The insurance company’s paying the cash value,” he continues. “Minus the deductible. We’ll use that, find you something safe and solid.” His thumb rubs slow circles over my knuckles. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Tears spill over, but I nod, grateful for him. “Okay.”

I believe him. It’s always been Dad and me, figuring it out together. Always.

But as much as I try to focus on the car, my mind betrays me, drifting not to the accident itself but to what came after. Everett’s hands steadying me. His voice anchoring me. The way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.

Why does safety feel like him?

I should’ve felt safe with Joey—the golden boy quarterback with the perfect smile and polished charm. That’s what everyone else saw. What I thought I saw.

But last night ripped the mask off. Underneath the shine, he’s cold. Controlling. A stranger.

And Everett—dark, brooding Everett—made me feel more secure in a handful of stolen moments than Joey ever did in months of dating me.

I don’t know what that says about me.

Maybe it’s crazy.

Maybe it’s dangerous.

And maybe that’s the scariest part of all.