Livia Lone (Livia Lone #1)(53)

When she finally managed to disengage, she saw that Malcolm’s eyes were wet, too, and so were Sean’s. She laughed delightedly at the sight of it.

Malcolm shook his head as though in wonder. “Did I tell you, girl?” he said. “Did I tell you this was your year?”

She laughed again and wiped her face. It didn’t help, though. She was still crying.

Sean was wearing a huge grin. “Livia, you were amazing! Like a hurricane! I think I’m lucky we’re in different weight classes.”

She felt a little guilty for getting all the attention. “You were amazing, too.”

He shrugged. “Third place.”

“Come on, one-twenty-nine is a tougher division. Next year we’ll both be first.” She glanced at Malcolm and smiled. “Ask your dad, he’s never wrong.”

Malcolm smiled back. “She’s right, tiger. The other top three in your weight class were all seniors. A year of experience is huge. Next year they’ll all be at college, and the experienced senior is going to be you.”

The three of them drove back to Llewellyn in Malcolm’s car. Livia couldn’t stop smiling. Winning the state tournament had been the best night of her life. And she was imagining a way it might get even better.





36—THEN

Malcolm dropped her off at the Lones’ house. Katy was throwing another party, like the year before. Livia wondered whether Sean would walk her home again after. Whether he might try to kiss her again. She’d been thinking about that a lot lately. She thought she wanted him to. She wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone. And she wanted it to be Sean. The way he’d touched her the year before . . . it had been so gentle, so tentative, it hadn’t bothered her. When she looked back on it now, she thought Sean touching her like that had actually been quite lovely. She wanted him to do it again. To look at her, and whisper her name the way he had. To lean in the way he had. Yes, she thought, smiling. Please, that.

She had just finished showering and dressing, and was combing her wet hair in front of the mirror in her bedroom, when the door opened. She turned and saw Mr. Lone. She hadn’t been expecting that—Mrs. Lone was home, and it was too early for one of his night visits.

No, she thought. Not now. Not tonight.

“Congratulations,” he said, one hand resting on the doorjamb, the other holding a drink. His tie was loosened, his suit jacket open.

He took a sip from the glass. “I would have said so at the tournament, but you seem not to like talking with me at your wrestling functions.”

She surprised herself by thinking, Yeah, no shit. Ordinarily, she just endured him. Even in her mind, she didn’t argue. She didn’t talk back.

“Why is that, Livia? Are you ashamed of me?”

She glanced down. “I’m going to a party,” she heard herself say. “I want you to leave me alone.”

If her thoughts were surprising, the words outright stunned her. Who had just said that?

He stepped into the room and closed the door. “What did you say?”

She felt the fear rising up, trying to assert itself. “Leave me alone.”

“I don’t even know what that means. Leave you alone? You’re in my house.”

Her heart began to pound. But not in fear. In anger. Her fear had always been stronger than her anger. But this time felt different. This time, the anger felt like something alive, dangerous, uncoiling inside her. A snake. A dragon.

“I saved your life, Livia,” he said, his voice rising. “Made you my daughter. And a daughter has obligations to her father. That’s the way God made the world. You’re lucky I haven’t demanded more of you. I could have. Until you’re married, your body is my right. Do you understand me?”

Some distant part of her realized this was the way he always went about it. Every time he did something worse to her, he worked himself into a tirade first. Maybe he needed to do that, to justify what he wanted from her. It seemed he was going to do it now.

“I’ve been patient with you,” he went on. “Respectful. I waited, until I thought you were old enough for different experiences. Until I thought you were ready. Well, maybe I’ve been overly solicitous. Maybe you were ready before I thought. Maybe you’re ready now.”

She could feel the dragon unfurling its wings, opening its claws. “Leave me alone,” she said again, still not looking at him.

He placed his drink on the bureau and came closer, stopping in front of her and leaning down until his face was just a few inches from hers. “You little ingrate. After everything I’ve done for you? I found your sister for you. Do you ever want to see her again? Do you ever want to see Nason?”

Nason’s name in his mouth was suddenly sickening. An atrocity. She looked up at him, her lips drawing back. “You’re a liar,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

His face darkened. “That’s enough. Take off your clothes. Get on the bed.”

Her breath felt hot now, like smoke coming from a fire burning in her lungs. “No.”

For a second, she saw complete shock in his eyes. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “You will obey me!” he shouted.

Without thinking, she dropped back with one foot, forcing him to straighten his arms, and shot her hands up under his elbows, breaking his grip. Then she stepped in and shoved him in the ribs, harder than she had ever shoved anything in her life. He stumbled back and almost fell, but hit the wall and recovered his balance.