Page 63 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

Dad slams the door, rattling the picture frames on the wall. My pulse is a drum in my ears, my arm aching from trying to pull away when he dragged me from Everett.

I’ve never seen him like this. Not when Mom left. Not even with the shit that happened with Joey.

His fury now is a living, breathing thing, filling the cabin until there’s no space left for me to breathe.

He paces the small living room like a caged animal, running a hand over his face, muttering curses under his breath.

Then he spins, his voice a roar that shakes me to my core.

“I trusted him, Brielle. I trusted that man with my home, with my friendship, with you. ” His chest heaves, his eyes wild.

“And all this time... Jesus Christ.” He drags his hands through his hair.

“I thought he was my best friend. Like the brother I never had.”

My voice trembles. “Dad?—”

“Don’t.” His hand cuts through the air, silencing me. “Don’t you dare defend him. I walked in and saw it with my own eyes. Don’t tell me I imagined his mouth and hands on you.”

Hot tears sting my eyes, spilling before I can stop them. “You don’t understand. He’s not?—”

His fist slams into the counter, the sound making me flinch. “He’s not what? Too old? Too broken? He’s been circling you like a wolf, waiting for me to turn my back, so he could take advantage of you.”

I shake my head, choking on the sob in my throat. “He makes me happy. He makes me feel?—”

“Safe?” Dad spits out the word, his face twisted with disgust. “With him ? You think a man like that can protect you? You think he can give you anything but regret?” His voice cracks, raw and furious. “He’ll ruin you, Brielle. Just like he’s ruined everything else in his miserable life.”

The words slice through me, jagged and merciless. I try again, desperate. “You don’t know him like I do?—”

His laugh is bitter. Ugly. “And what the hell do you know? You’re just a girl who doesn’t know the difference between love and obsession.” He moves closer, pointing his finger at me. “He used you. He only wanted one thing.”

I shake my head. The tears blur my vision, but I force the words out, trembling. “I love him.”

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 dad and Everett.

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.