Chapter 4

Emily's POV

Ethan's hands were gentle but firm as he helped me sit up.

"What—" My voice came out hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

"I followed you." He kept one hand on my arm, steadying me. "I knew something was wrong. I knew you didn't live where you said, so I—"

My father stood in the doorway, his face red with rage. "Get the fuck away from my daughter, you little shit!"

Ethan didn't flinch. He planted his feet.

"No," he said. His voice was calm, steady in a way my legs weren't. "You're not touching her again."

"No?" My father's laugh was ugly. "You think you can tell me what to do in my own home? You think you're some kind of hero?"

"I think you just threw your daughter into a hallway." Ethan's voice was steady but I could see his hands clenching into fists. "And I think if you touch her again, you're going to regret it."

My father's eyes narrowed. "Big words from a punk kid. You have any idea who you're talking to?"

"A coward who beats women." Ethan took a step forward. "Yeah, I know exactly who you are."

Everything happened fast.

My father lunged forward, his fist already swinging. But Ethan was faster. He dodged to the side and his fist connected with my father's jaw with a sickening crack.

My father stumbled back, more surprised than hurt.

"You little—" He came at Ethan again.

This time Ethan didn't hold back.

At eighteen, Ethan was in his prime—six feet of lean muscle built from years of training, fast reflexes honed by countless games. My father was twenty-seven years older, his body weakened by years of unemployment and cheap vodka, his beer gut soft where Ethan's abs were hard.

It wasn't even a fair fight.

Ethan's fist caught my father in the stomach, doubling him over. Before he could recover, an uppercut connected with his face with brutal precision. My father sprawled backward into the apartment, hitting the floor hard.

Ethan stood in the doorway, barely even breathing hard. His knuckles were red but he didn't seem to notice.

"You touch Emily again—you even look at her wrong—and I will make you regret it. You understand me?"

My father was on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. He glared up at Ethan with pure hatred but didn't get up. For the first time in my life, I saw fear in his eyes. Fear of someone stronger, younger, more powerful than him.

"I said, do you understand me?" Ethan's voice was hard as steel.

"Fuck you," my father spat.

Ethan took a step forward and my father actually flinched.

I heard the bedroom door open from inside the apartment. Locke's voice saying, "What's all the noise?"

No. No, no, no.

I couldn't let anyone see. Couldn't let Ethan see. Couldn't let my mother be exposed like this, humiliated in front of a stranger.

I grabbed Ethan's arm. "We need to go. Now."

"Emily, we should call—"

"Please." I was already pulling him toward the stairs. "Please, Ethan. We need to leave. Right now."

He looked at me, then at the apartment, then back at me. Whatever he saw in my face made him nod.

"Okay. Okay, let's go."

We went down the stairs as fast as my injured hip would allow. Ethan kept his arm around me, supporting most of my weight. We didn't stop until we reached his truck.

He helped me into the passenger seat and then got in beside me. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. We just sat there in the parking lot of my shitty apartment building while I tried to remember how to breathe.

"Emily—" Ethan started.

"Don't." I stared straight ahead. "Please don't."

"I have to. We have to call someone. The police, CPS, someone—"

"They won't help." My voice was flat. Dead. "They never help."

"You don't know that—"

"Yes, I do!" I turned to face him. "You think this is the first time? You think nobody knows? The cops have been here a dozen times. The teachers at school know. The neighbors know. Nobody does anything. Nobody ever does anything."

Ethan's jaw clenched. "Then I'll do something. I'll—"

"You already did." I laughed, but it came out broken. "You punched him. You made him bleed. And you know what's going to happen now?"

He didn't answer.

"Nothing. Nothing is going to happen. He'll wait until his face heals. Maybe a week, maybe two. He'll be careful around me for a while because he's scared you'll come back. But eventually, he'll forget. Or he'll get drunk enough not to care. And then it'll start again."

"So what, you're just going to let him—"

"I don't have a choice!" The words burst out of me. "I have five months until I can take my scholarship and get out of here."

Ethan was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "What about your mom?"

The question hit me like a fist to the gut.

What about my mom? My mom who was in that bedroom right now with a bastard. My mom who my father had sold like she was nothing.

I didn't answer. The thought from this morning came back, clearer now. Colder.

My father deserved to die. Marvin deserved to die. They were both monsters, both animals who hurt people weaker than themselves.

What if they killed each other?

"Emily?"

Ethan's voice pulled me back. I blinked, realizing the truck had been idling in the parking lot. I didn't know for how long.

"Emily, do you have somewhere to go tonight?"

I stared at him blankly and shook my head slowly.

"Okay." He put the truck in drive. "You can stay at my place. My parents won't mind. They're good people, I promise. We have a guest room and—"

He kept talking but I wasn't really listening.

"—or if you're not comfortable with that, I can get you a hotel room. There's a Motel 6 about ten minutes from here. I have some money saved up from my summer job, it's not a problem—"

A hotel room.

Money.

A transaction.

Something cold and sick twisted in my stomach. I looked at Ethan—really looked at him. At his earnest face, his concerned eyes, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder.

What does he want in return?

The thought came unbidden, ugly and sharp. Men didn't help for free. My father had taught me that. The man in my mother's bedroom had taught me that.

What did Ethan want from me?

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I had to press my hand against my mouth.

"Emily? Are you okay? You look really pale—"

He reached for me and I flinched back against the door.

Ethan froze. His hand dropped. "I'm not going to hurt you."

But they all said that, didn't they? Right before they did.