Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
RYE
My fists clench by my sides as I watch Hannah’s father lower the belt in his hand.
My soaked hair drips on the black tee I grabbed from the car, sticking to my skin. I didn’t take a second to dry off when I heard the commotion from the bathroom. Tying the string on my black joggers, my eyes scan the scene before they land on Hannah.
“Everything is just fine,” her father says, reaching out his hand for his daughter to take. She glances at me, hesitating before she takes it. He pulls her up with a force that makes her stumble. “Now, how about that cigar?”
Hannah fixes her dress before storming out of the room, nudging me with her shoulder on the way. “You need to leave.”
The front door slams as Hannah’s father lights his cigar, leaving his wife to get up on her own. I turn for the door, following Hannah as her father calls behind me. “Oh, don’t worry about her! She’ll be okay! You know women and their hysterics.”
Ignoring him, I step out into the crisp air, the sun starting to set. I follow that trail of that sweet perfume all the way down to the dock at the edge of the property. It's far enough to be out of view, the house disappearing behind me the further down I go.
Click, click.
I hear the flick of a lighter nearby before the smell of tobacco blends with damp earth.
“I told you to leave,” Hannah says, her eyes on the water. “You need to.” She looks pensive. Ashamed.
Tired.
Hannah Alfonso only gives the perception of perfection. That facade is starting to crumble, except it's not in the way I imagined.
“You do too.” I take the pink cigarette out of her hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
“I can’t.” She pulls out another, lighting it.
“You’re not safe here.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“Yes, you can”
“What if he kills her?”
“What if he kills you?”
“Where else am I supposed to go?” She turns to me, venom in her voice, pain on her red face. “You’re so hellbent on taking everything from me, but this is where I belong. In The Hill. With her. She needs me.”
"She's dismissive and cold." The tip of her cigarette tastes like candy when I bring it to my lips. “She’s a lost cause.”
“She’s just… broken.”
“They all are.”
She searches my eyes, her golden gaze catching the sun. “Rye, what happened to Krystal?”
I’m quick with my answer, still focused on getting her out of here. “My father.”
Silence sits between us, then she begins to laugh. “Are you joking?”
“Why the fuck would I joke about that?”
“This is way too cliche,” she says through her laughter. “Is that why we’re the way we are? Both of our fathers want to beat everyone to shit?”
“He wasn’t always like this.” My chest tightens, knowing that’s not true. Why did I defend him?
“No? He didn’t raise his voice for no reason?
He didn’t punch walls? Throw things? The signs are always there.
They’re easy to ignore when we want to believe that our parents wouldn’t lay a hand on the people they love.
Until they do.” My hangover comes rolling back the more she speaks.
“We learn from them, don't we? Power games and manipulation? Control?”
“I can see where you get it from, but I’m nothing like my father.” I hold the cigarette so tight between my fingers I crush the filter.
“Fuck you. I’m not that. But you? It’s only a matter of time before you snap. I know how fucked up you are. I won't ignore the things you do to me."
“Hannah!”
Her father’s voice comes from nearby, startling Hannah straight. She flicks her cigarette into the lake.
“Good. You’re both here,” he says, dirt and rocks crunching under his suede shoes as he approaches us. “We’re taking a sunset sail.”
Hannah sighs. “Now?”
“I think we can all use this,” her mother says, coming up behind her husband in her big glasses and hat. “Please.” They’re both acting like nothing happened.
“Sure. Fine.” Hannah shrugs with the same enthusiasm she has when shopping at a thrift store. “Let’s do it.” Then she turns to me. “Go home, Rye.”
“Why?” Flicking my cigarette to the ground, I push a smile on my face. “A sail sounds lovely.”
One minute, I’m throwing one of the best parties of my life. Next, I’m here, sharing family time with the enemy.
That means listening to her father drone on and on about the legacy of his family.
How they came here from Colombia to do better business, and how he managed to pull his family to the very top.
All while Hannah’s next to me in that dress, the one where her tits roll over the top like they’re begging to fall out.
The one where her skin peeks through the back cutouts. The bow settled right above her ass.
The boat sways back and forth in a way that doesn’t help this hangover.
This is the worst one in a while. It makes everything feel fucking weird.
Seeing Hannah around her family is a different experience.
I thought I took her confidence away, but her parents do that in a way I never can. That feels weird, too.
“Come on, Hannah,” her father says. “Let’s toast to this beautiful evening.” He pours us all glasses of champagne, the setting sun making the bubbly liquid sparkle. “To fam—”
A gasp escapes Hannah’s mom before he's finished. Hannah’s head whips to her, a wince on her mother’s face as she stares into the screen of her phone.
“Is something the problem, Elena?” Hannah’s father asks as her mother’s hand comes in front of her mouth.
“Ma?" Hannah leans closer to her mother, glancing at her father. "What is it?”
Her mother looks up, noticing our eyes on her. She downs the glass of champagne with her free hand before she speaks again. “It’s nothing. The news.”
My brows lower. Hannah clearly doesn't get her poker face from her mother.
“The news.” Her father repeats, and before her mother can put her phone away, he snatches it from her hand. He swipes on the screen. “News indeed.” He glares at Hannah, who searches her mother's face for answers.
“Ma?” Hannah sounds nervous as she moves closer to me. Like she’s already distancing herself from her father’s incoming wrath.
“Why don’t we go over to Reaper Island?” Hannah's father asks, champagne flute in hand. He starts steering the boat in the direction of a small patch of land in the middle of the lake. “We can show Young Rowen where we picnic.”
Hannah hesitates, looking up at the sky. “It’s getting late. The sun is almost down, and I see some clouds. We should head back."
“I insist!” Her father raises his voice as he continues to point the sailboat in the direction of the island. “It won't take long.”
My hand falls on Hannah’s knee, her bare skin soft and warm. She looks at me, but doesn’t move it. Instead, she lets her body sink a little more against mine as silence takes over the boat.
Something stirs in my pants, and I adjust how I’m sitting as if even touching Hannah is enough to get me going. That would be weird. That would be insane.
When we approach Reaper Island, it’s far from massive, a handful of trees scattered around it. It looks big enough for a picnic and some waterside activities, but that's about it.
Hannah’s father gestures to the dock before the boat comes to a complete stop next to it. Hannah hesitates, so I climb out first, helping her father tie the boat to the dock.
“Don’t worry about that,” her father says. “We won’t be here long.”
“You told me to always tie it up,” Hannah says.”
“You’re wasting time,” he says as I hold a hand out.
Hannah takes it, carefully stepping off the untethered boat. The minute she’s on the dock, her father puts the phone to her face and…
Fuck.
Glancing at Hannah, her eyes widen. Her lip trembles.
It’s the photo of her tied up to the throne from the party. In their lake house.
Looking back at her father, he’s livid.