Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
SCARLETT
I’m curled up on the couch with my mom, both of us in sweats, half-watching some reality show neither of us is really paying attention to. Then the front door slams open so hard the pictures on the wall rattle and our quiet night is over.
I flinch before I even see him. Dad storms into the living room, cut still on, knuckles split and bloody, a cut above his eye already swelling. He looks like he came straight from a fight. “How long?” he snaps.
My mom sits up straighter, her voice careful. “Piston—”
He doesn’t look at her. His eyes are locked on me. “How long have you and Rook been together?”
The question knocks the air out of my lungs. My heart starts pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out right away. “I…” I swallow. “It’s not—”
“Don’t lie to me, Scarlett.” His voice is low, dangerous. “I want the truth. How long?”
My hands are shaking in my lap. I press them together, trying to steady myself. “A few weeks,” I finally say, voice quieter than I want it to be. “It’s only been a few weeks.”
The silence that follows is heavy. He stares at me like he’s trying to decide whether or not to believe me. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle ticking.
Beside me, my mom lets out a slow breath and sets her wine glass down on the coffee table. His eyes cut to her. “You knew.”
My mom doesn’t flinch. “I pieced it together,” she says calmly.
Piston’s head snaps back to me. “You told her but you didn’t tell me?”
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “I didn’t tell her anything. She just… figured it out.”
He lets out a harsh, bitter laugh that doesn’t sound like him at all. “So everyone knew but me?” His voice rises. “My own daughter and my wife were keeping this from me?”
“Piston—” my mom starts, but he cuts her off with a sharp look then he looks back at me.
I feel small under his stare. Guilty. Even though I know I didn’t do anything wrong by being with Rook, the way he’s looking at me makes my chest ache.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
Piston runs a hand over his mouth, breathing hard through his nose. He looks between the two of us like he doesn’t recognize either of us right now. “A few weeks,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the words. “And you thought that made it okay to go behind my back?”
I lift my chin, even though my stomach is in knots.
“No, dad, I didn’t think that made it okay.
Rook wanted to tell you from the beginning, but it was all so new that I was still trying to figure out what it meant.
I’m the one who wanted to wait because I knew how you’d react, exactly how you are right now.
I didn’t want to tear you and Rook apart. I know how much he means to you.”
His eyes flash with something that looks a lot like hurt underneath all the anger.
Then he shakes his head, slow and heavy, like he’s trying to wrap his mind around it.
“I’m taking a fucking shower. None of you leave the house or let anyone inside or I swear to god…
just… don’t fucking leave.” He says, then walks upstairs, boots heavy on every step.
A few seconds later, I hear the bathroom door slam shut and the shower turn on.
My mom exhales slowly beside me, like she’s been holding her breath the whole time. She reaches over and gently rests her hand on my arm. “You okay?” she asks softly.
I don’t answer right away. I’m still staring at the staircase, my heart pounding. Part of me wants to cry. Another part of me wants to go upstairs and keep fighting. But mostly I just feel… off-balance. “He looked at me like I broke something,” I whisper.
My mom is quiet for a moment. “You didn’t break anything, Scarlett. But you did change something. And your father doesn’t handle change well when it comes to our family.”
I swallow hard and lean back against the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“He told us not to leave,” she says. “That’s not just about him being pissed. He’s scared of something.”
I lift my head and look at her. “Scared of what? That I’ll sneak out to see Rook?”
She gives me a small shake of her head. “I don’t think so. There’s got to be something else going on that he hasn’t told us yet.”
I frown. That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I assumed his reaction was purely about me and Rook. But now that she says it out loud, I realize he never actually explained why he was so furious. He just demanded answers and then shut down.
My phone sits on the coffee table. I reach for it, my thumb hovering over Rook’s name again. “I need to talk to him,” I say. “I need to know what happened tonight. Dad came home bloody. What if they fought because of me?”
Before I can even open Rook’s contact, there’s a knock at the front door. Both my mom and I jump. I quickly pull up the Ring app. The second the screen loads, my stomach flips.
Rook is standing on the porch. He’s leaning against the railing like he’s trying to take some of the weight off his body.
Even through the camera, I can see the damage.
His lip is split, there’s dried blood on his chin and down the front of his shirt, and one of his eyes is already starting to swell. He looks like he went through hell.
I turn the phone so my mom can see. She stares at the screen for a second, then lets out a long, tired sigh and pushes herself up from the couch.
“I’m gonna need a drink to deal with whatever the hell is about to happen,” she mutters, heading toward the kitchen.
“You handle that. I’ll be in here pretending I don’t know what’s going on. ”
I don’t stop her. My heart is already pounding as I walk to the front door. I unlock it and pull it open.
Rook stands there under the porch light, looking even worse up close. His cut is crooked, his knuckles are torn open, and there’s a dark bruise blooming along his jaw. He smells like leather, blood, and the night air.
I wince. “Are you okay?”
He shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just get into a fight with my father. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” I say, stepping back so he can come inside. “You look like you got hit by a truck.”
Rook steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him. His eyes flick around the house like he’s checking for threats, or maybe just making sure my dad isn’t standing right there waiting to swing again.
“He upstairs?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “Shower. He told us not to leave. Or let anyone in.”
Rook lets out a low breath through his nose and runs a hand over his jaw, wincing when he touches the bruise. “Yeah, well… I’m not real good at following orders when it comes to you.”
The way he says it makes my chest tighten.
I reach up without thinking and gently touch the cut on his lip. He doesn’t pull away. He just watches me, eyes dark and steady even with all the damage on his face.
“You fought him,” I whisper.
Rook doesn’t deny it. He just shrugs again, slower this time.
“He didn’t take the news well.”
“No shit,” I breathe. My fingers linger on his jaw for a second before I drop my hand. “He came home covered in blood. I thought maybe you got the worst of it, but…” I look him over again. “You both look pretty fucked up.”
Rook’s mouth twitches like he almost smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice low. “Had to see you,” he says, voice low. “After everything that went down… I needed to know you were alright.”
My chest tightens. I know he shouldn’t be here. I know my dad is still upstairs. But having him this close after everything makes it hard to think straight. “I’m okay,” I whisper. “Just… worried. About both of you.”
Rook opens his mouth to say something else when movement at the top of the stairs catches my eye and my stomach drops.
Dad is standing there, fresh out of the shower, wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair still damp. He’s staring down at us, and the second his eyes land on Rook, his entire body goes rigid.
For a second, nobody moves. Then my dad’s voice cuts through the silence, low and dangerous. “What the fuck is he doing in my house?”
Rook slowly turns to face him, but he doesn’t step away from me. If anything, he shifts slightly like he’s ready to put himself between us if he needs to.
I swallow hard, my heart hammering. “Dad—”
He starts walking down the stairs, eyes locked on Rook like he’s deciding whether or not to finish what they started earlier.
“I told you not to let anyone in,” he says, voice tight with barely controlled rage. His gaze flicks to me for half a second before returning to Rook. “And you.” He points at Rook. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here after what you pulled tonight.”
Rook doesn’t back down. He stands his ground, even though he’s clearly hurting. “I needed to see her,” he says calmly. “That’s it.”
Piston reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops a few feet away, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You needed to see her,” he repeats, voice dripping with disbelief. “After I specifically told you to stay the fuck away from my daughter?”
The tension in the room is so thick I can barely breathe. My mom appears in the doorway of the kitchen, drink in hand, but she doesn’t say anything. She just watches it all unfold.
I look between the two of them, panic rising in my chest. This is about to get bad. Really bad.
Dad stares at Rook for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitching. The air between them feels dangerous, but not explosive like it was earlier. Not yet. Finally, he speaks, voice low and rough. “We need to talk.”
Rook gives a single, slow nod. “Yeah, we do.”
Piston’s eyes flick to me, then to my mom, who’s still standing in the kitchen doorway with her drink in hand. “Both of you,” he says, not taking his eyes off Rook. “Go in the kitchen. Now.”
“Dad—” I start, but he cuts me off without raising his voice.
“Scarlett. Got to the kitchen. I’m not asking.”
My mom gently touches my arm. “Come on, baby.”