Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ARCH
I glared at Astrid’s retreating figure and stuffed my cock, still wet with her juices, back into my jeans. That one had a goddamn fucking mouth on her. From the moment she had told me that she was dating Frasier, I had known it was a lie.
But that didn’t make me any less pissed.
Once I redressed and grabbed all my shit out of Astrid’s room, I followed the sound of voices down the stairs to the kitchen. Astrid leaned over the kitchen island. Her dad was at the stove, cooking a steak on the skillet. Mom sat across from Astrid on a stool, watching her new husband.
“What do you think, kiddo?” her dad asked Astrid, back still turned.
“When is it?” Astrid asked, nose scrunched.
“Next month.”
Astrid peered at Mom and plastered a small smile. “Maybe. Let me think about it.”
“Think about what?” I asked, stepping into the kitchen.
Astrid’s dad peered over his shoulder, offering me a half smile. “A cruise. Wanna go?”
“No,” I said. And neither does Astrid, it appears.
“Come on, Archie,” Mom said, hopping up from the stool and walking over to me. She wrapped her small arm around mine and smiled up at me. “I think it will be good to get away once you graduate. You know, to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
“You graduating school.”
“Not interested. I have plans.”
“Please think about it,” Mom said. “For me.”
I gazed down at her, spotting her wedding ring glimmering underneath the overhead light. It looked perfect, except for …
I furrowed my brow, tugged my arm away from hers, and pulled her hand closer to my face.
“Why the fuck are your knuckles scraped?” I asked.
Mom pulled her hand away from mine and walked back to the stool. “Oh, don’t wor—”
My gaze snapped to Astrid’s dad. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t do—”
“Don’t give me excuses,” I snarled, lunging toward him.
Astrid stepped between us and shoved me back a few feet. “What is your problem?!”
“Archie …” Mom took Astrid’s place. “You know Oscar wouldn’t do that.”
“No, I don’t,” I said between clenched teeth. “Why are your knuckles scraped?”
Astrid’s dad and my mom shared a look, and then Astrid’s dad turned back to the steak cooking on the stove.
“I told you that you shouldn’t hide it from him, honey. He’s bound to find out one way or another.”
Mom blew out a breath and set her hands on my chest. “Promise you won’t be mad?”
I glared at the back of Astrid’s dad, then Astrid herself. “No.”
“I ran into your father yesterday,” she said.
My gaze dropped down to her, blood boiling. “You. What?”
“I was out shopping, bringing groceries to my car, and he—”
I stepped past her and stormed toward the front door. “I’m going to kill him.”
Before I could race around all of Redwood to find that fucker, Mom grabbed my wrist and tugged me backward. “You’re not going to go anywhere near him. I don’t know what he’ll do to you if he finds you.”
“He should be worried about what I’ll do to him when I find him,” I growled.
Cut him up into tiny little pieces. Feed him to his awful dogs. Decorate his living room with his blood, like he used to do with us. That fucker didn’t deserve to live, and he knew that. That was why he targeted her and not me.
If he showed his face around me, I’d murder him with my own two hands. I wasn’t that little kid anymore that he could push around. I had the same fucking fire inside of me for him that he’d had with us while I was growing up.
“Please, Archie,” Mom pleaded, using her soft voice on me.
I flared my nostrils and turned around toward her and the others. Astrid stared at me through wide eyes. I pursed my lips and gritted my teeth, wishing that she weren’t in the room. I didn’t want her overhearing our business. It didn’t matter to her, and she shouldn’t care.
“Fine.” I averted my gaze from Astrid. “I’ll drop it.”
Still turned toward the food, Astrid’s dad cleared his throat. “Leave me alone with Arch for a second, okay, honey? You too, Astrid.”
Astrid and Mom both left the room, but not before Astrid shot me a glare for trying to attack her dad.
She mumbled, “Watch it,” to me, as if I were afraid of her, then followed Mom up the stairs.
After adding some more butter to the pan, her dad turned around, one hand around the skillet’s handle, masterfully tossing the steak in butter. “I would never lay a hand on your mother, Arch. I’m not like your father.”
“Just because she trusts you doesn’t mean I do.”
I did trust him. But I’d seen the way people who appeared nice could snap so easily.
“I know,” he said, peering out the door to make sure the girls weren’t listening in, and then he lowered his voice. “But I wouldn’t be angry with you if you did go after him, as long as nobody knows it’s you and as long as you don’t put yourself, your mom, or Astrid in harm’s way.”
I raised my brows, then furrowed them, still not sure of his motives. “That all?”
“If you need help—”
A low, empty chuckle escaped my mouth. “What’s an old man like you going to do?”
“An old man?” he asked with a more lighthearted chuckle than mine. “Is that how you see me?”
Arms crossed, I turned away from him. “I don’t need your help with that.”
“There’s something you do need my help with?” he asked. “What is it?”
After a moment of debating whether I wanted to tell him or not, I decided that if he would help me with this, then maybe I could begin to trust him with Mom, maybe he could be useful with dealing with Dad.
“Calix’s mom is sick,” I said. “Cancer. Find her a better doctor who can fix it.”
“Cancer’s not that simple, Arch.”
“You want me to trust you?” I asked. “Then do what I ask.”
Then I stormed out of the kitchen and through the front door, slamming it behind me.