Mended (Connections, #3)(14)

She kissed me and I leaned back to look at her. Her blond hair fell past her shoulders and she was smiling shyly at me. “It’s already arranged,” she said, flushing. A nervousness that I’d seen many times presented itself in her expression.

“What’s the matter, gorgeous?”

She broke away and in the quietest voice said, “I’m really going to miss you this summer.”

“I’m going to miss you, too. But, hey, we talked about this. It won’t be that long. The summer will be over before you know it and then we’ll be together.” I hugged her tightly, reassuring her.

“I know you’re right,” she whispered, and the sadness in her eyes broke my heart.

I had tried my best to get my mother to cancel or at least shorten my trip to my aunt’s. Since she called it my graduation present, I really thought I should have gotten to choose if I wanted to go or at least for how long. She hadn’t said I couldn’t, but she hadn’t said I could, either. I knew I would continue to work on her.

I kissed Ivy one last time and trapped her fingers in mine before she twisted away and broke the connection. She walked backward for a beat, then turned around and sashayed down the sidewalk toward her apartment building.

“I’ll call you tonight, sexy thing,” I yelled to her.

She turned, gave me one last heart-stopping smile, and blew me a kiss. She wouldn’t even let me walk her to her apartment building because she was afraid her mother would see her with me when she was supposed to be studying. So I waited on the corner until she reached her door. As soon as she did, she came rushing back. She threw her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, “I hope you can call me because if you can I’ll practice what we’ve talked about.”

I stepped back and looked at her with what I knew was a sly, wicked grin. She was flushed on every exposed body part. “Really . . . ?” I asked.

“Yes,” she mouthed, her cheeks changing color from pink to red with that one unspoken word.

“Christ, just you saying it is so f*cking hot.”

She kissed me, softly at first, then harder. “You better get out of here or you’re going to be late,” she said, and just as quickly as she had turned and come back to me, she was gone. Once she disappeared through the doorway, I got in my car and grinned for the longest time. Finally, I drove away and headed back to school to pick up River. I had to drop him off before picking up my sister, since my car didn’t have a backseat. I was late, and I already assumed I’d probably catch shit for it. As we walked into the house, I knew immediately something was wrong—Bell’s backpack and shoes were in the foyer. She was already home.

“Hello?” I yelled.

“Daddy, I can’t do it,” a small voice cried from the landing—it was Bell.

I began ascending the stairs. “Stay here,” I called over my shoulder to my brother.

I stayed silent as the wooden stairs beneath me squeaked.

“Don’t say you can’t. You can. You’re just not playing the right chords. Do it again,” my father said.

I bolted up the remaining stairs two at a time to the wide-open loft that acted as his music studio. Bell was sobbing and her fingers were bleeding. They were f*cking bleeding. Seeing my little sister sitting there on a stool while my shaggy-haired, unshaven, drunken father barked orders at her triggered a rage I’d never felt before. I couldn’t take another minute of his drunken insanity—he wasn’t only ruining his own life, he was tearing ours apart.

He gave me a passing glance as he pointed to the chord he wanted my sister to strum. “You’re late,” he muttered.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” I yelled.

“Teaching your sister how to play correctly.”

My jaw clenched tightly. “The hell you are. Bell, go downstairs with River.”

She looked at me, sobbing.

“No, Bell. Stay here,” he ordered, glaring at me.

“Go. Now!” I yelled to her as River came racing up the stairs. “Take her now and get her out of here,” I told him.

My hands were shaking as I took another step toward my father. It was strange, because he looked at me with vacant eyes, but I could have sworn I saw a flicker of fear in them. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t explain. It made its way through me as an urge to kill him. I lunged at him. He went flying backward and hit his head against the wall. A few of his framed Sound Music Magazine covers came crashing down. He scooted away from me, but my fists moved toward him in a hard, thrusting motion. He didn’t duck, he didn’t move. Hit after hit, my father just took it.

“I hate you! You’re a worthless excuse of a man!” I screamed.

“I know,” he cried. “I tried, I did. I tried to protect you all. But now with Damon Wolf, he . . .” The rest of his response was incoherent. I had no idea what the pathetic man in front of me was trying to say.

“Xander, stop it!” my mother screamed. She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me back.

She leaned down to him but looked toward me. “What’s going on? What happened?”

I stiffened and took a deep breath, but he blurted out what had happened himself. Through his incoherent mumblings, he finally managed to make my mother see him for the worthless piece of shit he really was.