Page 101 of Van Cort

Lara walked around to the other side of the house and tried the door that would take her to the mud room, and then one of the secret entryways that she’d be able to navigate through to the music room. But they were all locked, too.

She waited, pacing back and forth on the lawn, but eventually gave up and headed to the main steps that led to the hallway. Her footsteps were tentative, and she made sure to wipe her muddy treads on the mat before she stepped foot on the marble surface. She’d only made it a few steps before two figures stopped her dead in her tracks. Mr Van Cort was hunched over, his arm held as he was supported through the hallway by one of the maids.

He looked old. Frail. Red and purple bruising marred his face as he turned to look at her. His eyes narrowed as much as they could behind a blackened eye.What had happened to him?

But she knew. Deep down, she knew.Her heart sped up as if hit with adrenalin at the realisation.

Mr Van Cort righted himself, pulling himself taller as he turned to her. And for that second, she felt all the filthy rage that Rhett must have felt facing him.

“You!” he yelled. “Get out of here. I tolerate your father. Not you. Go!”

She almost stumbled back on herself in her rush to flee, and she raced down the steps and ran to the boathouse. They’d spentplenty of time out there together. So, she’d wait until it was safe and try again.

Gods, is that what Rhett had done? He’d snapped?

Beaten his own father?

She knew that Rhett’s temper and drinking were unpredictable. Both elements had always made him that bit closer to dangerous. They’d been building, though, stoked every time his father laid a hand on him, every time West wasn’t in the firing line. But she’d never appreciated how violent he could be. Not really.

Her memory of the time she’d seen – watched – his father beat Rhett all those years ago bled into her mind, unable to stay buried. Was this all just an eventuality because of the way he’d been treated? She thought she had been helping him somehow, but with the news of West now out in the open, maybe that was what made Rhett finally fight back.

She slumped down on the wooden deck, leaned against the small boat they’d taken the other day, and pulled the letter from her pocket. It turned over in her hands several times, as she thought and thought and thought.

“Lara?” West’s voice sounded in the gloom.

“Hey,” she croaked, as she hid the letter back in her pocket.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, um, was looking for Rhett, but, well, I couldn’t get in.”

“He’s…” West turned and hung his head back on his shoulders. “He’s pretty fucked-up right now. Come on. You shouldn’t be hiding out here.”

“I’m not hiding. What were you doing here?”

“Was going to go back out to the island.”

“On your own?”

“Well, I need to start getting used to it. And there’s no fucking way I’m going near Rhett right now.”

She wanted to ask – to have West confirm what was now glaringly obvious, but somehow, if Lara said it out loud, she was frightened it might make it more real, like bringing it to life.

Right now, it was all hypothetical, sort of. His dad was injured, sure, but there could be another explanation.

West reached out his hand and helped pull her up. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her in for a hug, and she went, happy to get swallowed up by his arms. She wouldn’t have access to this soon. She’d have to say goodbye. It felt like grief clawed at her throat and threatened to set her crying. There would be time for that later, preferably when she was on her own and not with either of them to see. She wanted to be strong for them because they were losing each other, which must be so much worse. They’d been together all their lives, and she worried how either of them would function without the other.

West crushed her to him, and she let him - didn’t want him to let her go. But he did.

He dropped his arms and stepped back. “Come on. Let’s go to yours.”

“Mine?” she questioned.

“I told you. Rhett’s drunk or hungover. We need to give him some time.”

She followed him out of the boathouse and into the light, and that’s when she saw the added bruising over his jaw.

West noticed her eyes studying him but just shrugged it off, like it didn’t matter. It did, though.