Chapter 49
STAND UP
MOLLY
Time slows with the crack of bone on bone, the sound carrying across the space between us.
The man Grey hit flies back a few feet and lands on his friend, taking them both down, and Grey dives at them fist first.
In the twenty feet separating us, everyone is shouting, chaos exploding, too many bodies to see what's happening until a knot of them in red Ramblers jerseys steps back, pulling Grey with them.
It takes four of them to hold him back, and still he almost gets loose, roaring, teeth bared, trying to get away.
My parents are pulling at me, but I can't hear what they're saying. I shake them off.
"No! I need to--"
My dad steps in front of me, saying sternly, "We're leaving. Now."
I try to get around him. "I can't leave him! He needs--"
"He needs to deal with what he's done." Dad's hands are on my arms, his grip too tight. "You being here makes it worse. We're leaving."
"Molly," Cass warns, "he's right. You should go. And don't fight your dad or Grey's gonna--"
I catch sight of Grey, who's looking at my father's hands on me, nostrils flared, wide eyed, and I know they're right. So to spare my father from getting the shit beat out of him, I shake off his hands and nod. Then meet Grey's eyes again.
"Meet me at home!" I yell.
"Go," Cass says flatly. "I'll make sure he knows."
Against every instinct, I leave. Every step gets harder.
Don't look back. Don't look back.
I look back.
They're still holding Grey back, the guy on the ground clutching his face. There's blood. A crowd. Phones out. Everyone not staring at them is staring at me, whispering starting. My parents flank me, marching me to the car. The doors unlock.
"Get in," he says.
Doors slam. I'm sitting in the backseat like a child. The silence is immediate, suffocating. My eyes are locked beyond the window on the crowd. I don't know what's happening. I don't know if he's okay.
The engine turns over, and Dad's backing out, jerky, angry.
That's as long as the silence lasts before he breaks it.
"What the hell was that?" His voice is flat, controlled. Somehow, it's worse than if he yelled.
Mom's half-turned in her seat, face pale, hands twisting in her lap. She doesn't say anything, looking at me like she's never met me.
"You heard what they said." It's automatic, the way I stand up for him. "He was defending me. He tried to walk away--"
"That was violent," Dad says, his fists white knuckle on the wheel. "He…I've never seen someone…and in front of children," He shakes his head. "He should be arrested, do you understand that? He assaulted someone."
"They were saying horrible things--" The pitch and volume of my voice rises with my emotion. "Lies about us, about--"
"I think he broke that man's jaw. He could end up in the hospital." Dad's eyes meet mine in the rearview, hard, disappointed. Then I watch them wince. He sucks in a breath, squeezes his left bicep.
Mom watches him, somehow even more worried. "Are you--"
"I'm fine," he says. We just watched him attack a man at a town function. He didn't just throw a punch, he dove at him. It took four men to hold him back. Four."
The sight of him flashes through my mind--Grey's face bent with rage, teeth bared, roar on his lips, trying to break out of the hands that held him.
"He was protecting me." Even I hear how weak it sounds.
"By losing complete control of himself? What happens when you make him angry?"
"He would never," I snap, knowing that in my bones.
"You can't know that."
"This is what we were afraid of." Mom starts to cry, actually crying. "Older man, too much experience, too much--"
"Baggage."
There's no way to explain just how gentle he is., not to them, not right now The connection between that Grey and the one I just saw is stretched so thin, I can barely see it.
"And the things that man said," Dad continues, his voice shaking now. "Is…is that true? Did you…do that?"
The air kicks out of my lungs. "Dad! Oh my god. Of course it's not true, I can't believe you'd--"
"What the hell are we supposed to think? I don't recognize you at all."
Mom turns back to the front, her shoulders shaking.
"This was a mistake," Dad says quieter, with certainty. "You moving here, being out on your own. You're not prepared."
"And whose fault is that?"
He cuts me another look in the mirror. "All we have ever done is try and protect you, young lady."
"To the point I can't take care of myself? How do you ever expect me to make it on my own if I never even try?"
But he shakes his head again. "It was a mistake, Molly. You should have stayed home with us."
My stomach drops. I know what's coming. "Don't--"
"Come home," he says, softer. "Just for a little while. Let things settle--"
"No!" The word echoes in the cab. “This is my house, my life, and I'm not leaving him."
"Just…just come and take some time to think. That's all we're asking." Mom says.
Liar.
"Get some perspective. It's so much easier to see everything clearly from a distance."
"I can see just fine."
We pull up to my house, my little island that they managed to turn into a cage.
Slam. Slam. Slam. We exit the car, enter the house--I barely register the door is once again unlocked. I just blow through it and turn on the lights, standing stupidly in my living room.
Grey. My phone is in my hand, and I'm calling him--no answer--texting him.
Molly: Are you okay? What happened?
I stare at the screen, my mind begging,, Please answer, please.
Dad's pacing. "He's going to come here."
"Should we--"…Mom trails off.
What? Leave? Lock the door? It's not even their house.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I draw a breath of thanks.
Grey: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Be there soon. You ok?
The relief is so intense, I could cry.
Molly: I'm okay, but hurry.
Grey: On my way.
"He's okay," I tell my parents. "He's coming over."
Dad's face is colored with dread, his brow beaded with sweat and skin pale. "No, We're leaving before he gets here."
Fury almost devours me. "I'm not going anywhere. This is my home."
"This isn't your home," he snaps, already moving toward my bedroom.
"Rob!" Mom yells, trying to stop him, but he shakes her off.
"Dad, stop!" I chase after him, but he's through the door, pulling open my closet, grabbing my duffel bag off the shelf.
"You can come back for the rest of your things later. Right now, we're getting you out of here."
"This is my house!" I try to grab the bag from him, but he jerks it out of my reach, shoving clothes into it with his free hand. "You can't just--Dad, stop!"
"Rob! We should go, let's just go--"
"She's not staying here with him." He's sweating now, his movements jerky, almost frantic. "Not after what we saw."
"I'm twenty-four," I snap, trying to get around him, but he blocks me. "You can't kidnap me."
They both freeze at the word. Something flickers across Dad's face--Loss of control? Panic?--but before I can process it, headlights sweep through the window, the sound of Grey's truck a relief and a trigger.
His truck. He's here.
I don't know what's going to happen. But this has to stop.
I rush for the door, my parents behind me. I'm reaching for the doorknob before they can stop me, needing to see him, needing to know he's okay.
I pull it open, and he's there.
He's wrecked.
His lip is swollen and bloody, black eye forming, knuckles wrapped in a crude white bandage, blood seeping through. His jaw is so tight, the joints look like they could shatter. But his eyes.
His pale, gray eyes are devastated. Exhausted. Sorry.
Broken.
In my chest, my heart breaks. Seeing him like this, because of me, hurts so bad, I can't breathe.
"Molly, I--"
I launch myself at him, throw my arms around his neck. The moment I'm in his arms, I start to cry.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm sorry," I mutter into his neck.
"Shh, don't cry," he whispers like a plea, like he won't be able to keep it together if I don't stop. His face is buried in my hair. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I couldn't--" The word breaks.
We don't say anything else. After a moment, he puts me down, moves to kiss me, stops. When I look up from his lips, his eyes are on my parents standing behind me.
"You have some nerve showing up here," Dad says, voice tight.
"It's my house!" I snap. "You're the ones who had nerve to show up."
My parents have the audacity to look offended. Grey and I share a look before he shifts his attention back to them.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
"Had to see it?" Mom balks, voice rising. "Had to watch you assault a man?"
"He--"
"It doesn't matter what he did," Dad says. "You should have walked away."
"I know. I know I should have. I tried."
"Not hard enough," Dad pops off.
Mom's voice is shaking. "We've tried to be understanding. We tried to see what she sees in you. But this is too far."
"She is a twenty-four-year-old girl," Dad says. "This is her first relationship. She doesn't know--"
"I'm an adult woman, and I'm standing right here," I say. "Stop talking about me like I'm not--"
Mom and Dad ignore me, but Grey's eyes shift to me. He opens his mouth to say something, but Mom, still glaring at him, keeps going.
"You are forty-four--"
to speak"Do you always ignore her like this?" Grey cuts her off, furious, softening when he looks at me to speak.
Stunned, they shut up.
"Thank you," I say quietly, turning to my parents. "And second--First, stop ignoring me. You’re arguing with Grey about my life—argue with me. Second, you said it yourself. I'm twenty-four. Not seventeen. You don't get to decide anything for me."
Dad completely disregards me and is yelling at Grey again, though Mom holds my gaze. I see the cracks web across her mask and shake my head at her, disappointed.
"You should know better," Dad snaps. "You should have more control."
The hit lands, hard. Grey almost shrinks from it.
"You're right," he admits quietly, defeated. "I should have."
"Half the team couldn't hold you back--" Dad notes. Again.