Chapter Twenty-Two Remi
Chapter Twenty-Two
Remi
“My dad is a dick.”
Normally, I would have responded to such a proclamation, but I was too busy trying not to gape at the house belonging to the dick in question.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned this,” I said absently.
We’d driven through a gate at the front of the property, the kind that needed a little code to permit entrance.
The entirety of the home was light-colored brick—white columns and black shutters on countless windows.
Turreted peaks flanked the stately front entrance, and a small balcony on the second floor—lined with thick, curved white railings—sat between those peaks.
Off to the side of the house was a four-stall garage, and anchored in the middle of the circular drive was a fucking fountain.
“Who cleans all those windows?”
He gave me an amused look. “That’s your first thought?”
“No, my first thought was, Wow, this is exactly what I’d imagine a pompous prick’s house would look like.”
Archer laughed again, but there was still tightness around his eyes as I turned the car off and removed my seat belt.
“I’m reminding you that my dad is a dick because he will be awful,” Archer said. “To you. To me. To my sister.” He closed his eyes. “I hate that you’re about to see any of this.” I opened my mouth, but he set a gentle finger over my lips. “If you say that’s what friends are for . . .”
I wrapped my fingers around his thick wrist and pulled his hand away from my mouth. “You’ll what?”
His eyes opened, landing unerringly on my lips. “I’ll be forced to kiss you as a distraction, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh.”
My weak whisper made him smile. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’”
Archer got out of the car first, and I took a quick moment to fix my ponytail, making sure there were no stray flyaways around my face.
“Are you fixing your hair for him?” he asked incredulously.
“No.” I looped the hair tie one more time, tipping my chin up. “I’m fixing it for the moment. No one wants to look a mess during a dramatic family showdown.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” His eyes skimmed over my face. “No matter why you’re doing it, you look beautiful.”
“Quit stalling,” I teased, even as my stomach and heart did a quick little flip-flop.
Archer sighed, and I had to work to keep up with his much longer strides as he jogged up the stone steps leading to the double-door entrance.
The planters on either side of the porch were glossy black, filled with perfectly trimmed boxwoods cut to mimic a spiral pattern. On the black door was a gleaming knocker, heavy and ornate in a way that I’d never seen, Evans etched into the gold surface.
Archer didn’t use it, nor did he knock to signal our arrival.
He simply walked in and stared up the curved staircase that fanned out in two directions.
The entryway was two stories tall, everything inside the house black and white as well.
I expected to be impressed and awed, but in reality, the beauty of the house was only in its size and perfectly kept appearance. Everything else about it, as I should have expected, was cold.
“Analise?” he called. “Ready?”
“Coming,” she yelled.
A short woman with ruddy cheeks bustled into the entryway, wearing a black-and-white uniform that matched the rest of the house. “He’s in a foul mood tonight. If you take her without talking to him, it’ll only get worse.”
“Then leave at the same time we do,” he told her. “I don’t want you here alone with him.”
She nodded, her eyes landing on me and widening incrementally. “Who is this?”
Archer and I traded a quick look, and when I didn’t get the impression that this visit was one where I needed to keep my mouth shut, I held my hand out to the woman and smiled. “I’m Remi, a f-friend of Archer’s.”
“Are you?” she asked softly. “Mr. Archer doesn’t have many friends, and certainly none as pretty as you.”
“Rebecca,” he warned.
“Nice to meet you, Rebecca. What do you do here?”
“I keep them fed and relatively happy,” she said. “Most of them, at least.”
Analise appeared at the top of the stairway, a backpack over one shoulder. Her eyes were red, the skin around them puffy from crying. At the sight of her, Rebecca looked so sad.
Once she’d neared the bottom of the stairs, she jumped off the last one and threw herself into her brother’s arms, her tears starting again. “Please don’t let him send me away,” she sobbed.
“I won’t.” He kissed the top of her head. “Hey, look at me.” Analise lifted her head, still so pretty even in her tears. “I won’t, I promise.”
Analise gave a shaky nod.
“That’s not something you can promise, given you’re not her parent. Not her guardian. And she’s a minor.”
My skin prickled at the sound of his voice, and when he appeared at the far end of the entryway, I took an unthinking step backward.
It was like looking at Archer in twenty-five years. They were identical. Older, of course, with salt-and-pepper hair and more wrinkles. But the height, the imposing presence, the jawline and the eyes, the proud, straight line of his nose—they could have been twins.
Archer shifted his sister behind him so that she was next to me, and he moved to the side, standing in front of both of us. Analise was crying quietly, and I grabbed her hand, clutching it tight with mine.
“She’s coming with me tonight,” Archer said firmly. “You need some time to cool down. She’s spent the night at least once a week for the past year, and you’ve never complained.”
“That was before the two of you lied to me and conspired to ruin your entire fucking career,” he snapped.
“My career will be just fine. Many players do much worse than I did and we both know it.”
“They weren’t an Evans,” he yelled. “It was bad enough that my son was taken in for a mug shot like a common criminal. But knowing you didn’t even do it? What the fuck were you thinking?”
Archer kept his face even. “I was thinking about my sister—and I promise, you don’t need to worry about my priorities, old man.”
His father’s eyes flickered dangerously, and I braced myself, expecting an outburst. But then his eyes landed on me and narrowed. “Well . . . it seems we have another uninvited guest.” His gaze shifted to Archer. “Prettier than you, though, isn’t she? Where’d you pick this one up?”
My heart stuttered, waiting for the flare of Archer’s temper in response.
His jaw clenched. “Come on, let’s go.”
Analise and I started to turn, Rebecca right on our heels, when his father’s voice rang out again.
“I could still have her arrested.”
Analise let out a choked sob. When I glanced at Archer, his face was terrifying—harsh and unforgiving. “For what?” he ground out.
“She fled the scene of a crime. That destruction was caused by her.”
Archer took a step forward. “It was an accident, and it’s being fixed because I’m taking responsibility. There’s no victims here. Nothing she needs to be punished for.”
Rebecca wrapped her arm around Analise and whispered something in her ear. Analise nodded jerkily.
“Why would you do that to your daughter? She’s a kid.”
“I wouldn’t be doing it to her,” he said, cold as ice, slick as a snake.
“I’d be doing it to you, son. These are the consequences of your actions.
I thought it would be that you’re stuck at that shithole for a few weeks with mongrels and martyrs.
” I sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t hear, far too focused on spewing his venom at his own children.
“But it turns out, there’s a much more effective way to get this lesson through your head. ”
Archer shook his head. “What is wrong with you?”
“Me? Nothing. I have children acting out, and any good parent knows that discipline is required when that happens. She lied. You both did. She didn’t take responsibility and allowed you to take the fall for her.
And let’s add theft to the list, given she used one of my credit cards without permission and charged eight thousand dollars for some fucking guilt gift for that fucking pound. ”
I gasped. Loudly. It was out before I could stop it.
Analise gave me a wide-eyed look.
“That was you?” I whispered. “You sent it?”
Tears continued to spill over her cheeks. “I had to do something. I’m so sorry I lied, Remi.”
His father took a few steps closer, eyes narrowed, and the air seemed to drop twenty degrees as he connected missing pieces in his head. “You’re from that shelter?” he said.
Archer stepped more fully in front of me. “Remi, Analise, let’s go. Now.”
Then his dad started smiling. Big and wide and toothy, his veneers white and blinding in his face. He was laughing in the next moment. “Oh, this is perfect.” Then he clapped Archer on the shoulder so hard that the slap of his hand made me flinch.
Archer’s chin rose, his eyes chips of ice in his face.
His father leaned in, lowering his voice. “Maybe you do have two brain cells left to rub together. Fucking your way through your community service might be a little cliché, but she looks like a pleasant enough way to spend the time.”
The sound that left Archer was hardly anything more than a growl, but he had his dad’s shirt fisted in his hands as he shoved forward, slamming his dad’s back against the wall in the next heartbeat.
Mr. Evans made a choking sound, tearing at Archer’s hands. “Get the fuck off me.”
“One more word,” Archer warned. “About either of them. One more word, old man.”
His smile was sickly triumphant. “And you’ll what? You can’t do anything to me.”
Archer’s hands tightened, the muscles in his arms rock hard, the veins standing out in sharp relief. The damage he could inflict, should he choose, was enough to make my mouth go dry.
If he did, though . . .
If he did, things would get so much worse.
Even though my knees shook at the overwhelming display of strength and violence, I took a step forward. “Archer.” He pinched his eyes shut, hands trembling where he held his father against the wall. “Please. Let’s go.”
Then he relaxed his jaw. His eyes opened. Hands fell away from his father’s shirt. He stepped back.
His gaze found mine—exhausted and heartbroken, and more than anything, I wanted to wrap him in my arms.
“Let’s go,” he repeated.
Because he was looking at me, because Analise and Rebecca were already turning toward the door, I was the only one who saw his father ball up his fist and take the swing.
The angle was awkward, but he clipped Archer just underneath his eye.
Archer’s head snapped back as I lurched forward, hand outstretched. There was a trickle of blood on his cheekbone when he touched his fingers to his face.
“Dad!” Analise cried. “Stop.”
His father shook out his hand, studying the signet ring on his finger. “I’ve wanted to do that for years.” He locked his eyes on me and smiled. “Thank you for giving me the perfect motivation.”
Archer took a step forward, teeth bared, eyes blazing, arm raised, and I grabbed it with a shout. “No, Archer. Don’t.” I grabbed his face until he was forced to look at me. “He’s not worth it.”
After a moment, the anger fell from his features, tension bleeding from his frame. My thumb brushed at the blood. “Please,” I whispered. “Don’t let him win.”
“Oh, it’s too late for that, sweetheart,” his father said behind us. “The moment he laid his hands on me, I already did. He likes fucking with his reputation? Let’s see how good it feels when he’s cuffed and taken in for assault from his childhood home.”
He was already pulling out his phone, and Archer’s eyes filled with resignation.
Analise sobbed behind us, Rebecca doing her best to calm her down.
My mind raced, and I didn’t think, didn’t process, simply turned and gave his dad a curious look. “Why would you call the cops?”
He stopped and gave me an incredulous look. “He pushed me. That’s assault. I defended myself.”
With a simple tilt of my head, I made sure to hold his gaze. I held it through the nerves and the second-guessing, and I held it through the tiny voice in my head wondering what the fuck I was about to do. I held his gaze and spoke anyway. “But you hit him first. The push came second.”
Shocked silence pulsed through the room, and I was sure they could all hear the thrash of my heart behind my ribs.
His eyes narrowed, then he let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Are you drunk?”
I smiled. “Sober as can be. And I know exactly what I saw.”
Archer’s hand found mine, his fingers sliding between my own and squeezing tight.
Behind us, Analise sniffed. “I saw it too.”
“So did I,” Rebecca said quietly.
Mr. Evans scoffed, but the color flooding his cheeks gave him away. “This is insane. You’re all going to lie about what happened? You have no proof.”
“Neither do you,” Archer said in a dangerously low voice. “But by tomorrow morning, I’ll have a black eye.” He grinned. “Thanks for that, old man.”
“Do you still want to call the cops?” I asked, giving him my sweetest smile.
He was breathing hard, jerkily smoothing out the rumpled front of his shirt.
“We’ll take that as a no,” Archer said. “Have a great night, Dad. I’ll bring her back when she’s ready.”
He took a step forward, chin tilted arrogantly. “Yet,” he said simply.
“What?” Archer asked.
“I’m not calling the cops yet.” His gaze flicked to me, then the two women still holding each other by the door. “Rebecca, you’re fired.”
Archer stared at his father. “Rebecca, you ready to take me up on my job offer?”
“Yes, Mr. Archer,” she said in a shaky voice. “I think I am.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
Analise was still crying as she waited for me to shift some items in the back seat so she had somewhere to sit. Archer walked Rebecca to her car, speaking quietly to the much shorter woman.
With a sigh, I pulled out my phone and called Pops.
“I’m going to be a bit longer yet.”
“You’re not doing any hanky-panky with the pretty football player, are ya?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. We had to go pick up his sister. She had an argument with their father.”
He made a noise of understanding. “She okay?”
“She will be, I think. It wasn’t pretty, though.”
Across the driveway, Rebecca flung her arms around Archer’s middle. His face went slack with shock, and I swallowed a laugh. When his hand tentatively landed on her back, I smiled. “I need to drive them back to his place, but I may not leave right away. In case Analise wants a female to talk to.”
“You’re a good kid, bug.”
“I’m almost thirty, Pops.”
“Still a kid to me.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“Going to his house, huh?” he asked slyly.
Archer closed Rebecca’s car door and waited for her to pull away, his frame expanding on a deep breath before heading back toward where I was waiting. The slightly haunted, really pissed-off look in his eyes lifted the hairs on my arms.
“Yeah,” I said absently. “Just for a little bit.”
“Okay, bug.”
His tone said he didn’t believe me.
Which was problematic because I didn’t believe me either.