Can't Slow Down - Lizzie Hart Stevens Page 0,25

him.

“Coen!” his aunt and I say in unison.

“Where is he and what the hell is he doing here?” he grits through his teeth.

Sarah’s brow furrows and she tilts her head, looking at Coen like he’s completely insane.

“That’s no attitude to have to meet your long-lost cousin, now is it?”

My jaw drops and Coen’s eyes about bug out of his head as we carefully follow her inside. Sitting there on the couch is Patrick. He jumps to his feet right away; his cold, gray eyes feel like they are burning a hole right through me. The expression on his face is eerily similar to that of the Joker’s: a huge fake smile hiding pure evil.

“Have you completely lost your fucking mind?” Coen bellows.

“Watch your language in my house,” Sarah orders. “This is Patrick, my son.”

“Your son? YOUR SON?” Coen lets go of my hand and paces the floor a few times before stopping in front of his aunt and running his hands through his hair. “Please explain to me how this useless, fucked up, piece-of-shit, sorry excuse for a man is your son.”

I cross my arms and back myself up against the wall closest to the door in case I need to make a quick escape. The tension in this room is palpable. Patrick doesn’t dare move from the spot he’s standing in. I’m willing to bet he knows that if he so much as breathes too close to me Coen will rip his throat out.

Sarah takes a step toward Coen and he sticks his hand out for her to not get any closer. He’s pissed off and confused. She walks over closer to Patrick and places her arm around his shoulder.

“When I was fifteen, I was madly in love with a boy who was about to head off to college. At least, I thought it was love at the time. Anyways, to make a long story short, I became pregnant. Since he was leaving for medical school, and I was so young, I decided it was best to put the baby up for adoption. That baby was Patrick, Coen. I’ve been in touch with the adoption agency over the last few months. Last week they called and said they had found him, he lived close by, and was interested in meeting me, too. I don’t understand why this is upsetting you so much. Do you two know each other already?” She looks back and forth between Coen and Patrick waiting for one of them to answer.

“Yeah, Coen, what’s wrong?” Patrick taunts with a Cheshire grin.

Coen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck from side to side. When he opens his eyes he looks over at me and subtly shakes his head while clinching his fists at his sides. He’s trying so hard to not fly off the handle right now. He grits his teeth and looks Patrick straight in the eyes.

“Why don’t you tell her how fucking special her new son is, Patrick?” he says, pointing at his eye that is still slightly bruised.

Sarah huffs, “You can’t possibly be serious, Coen. Patrick wouldn’t hurt a soul. Would you, Patrick?”

I see he’s already pulled the wool over her eyes.

Just you wait, lady, the real asshole will show himself soon enough, I’m sure.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” I pipe up from my safe spot near the door.

“I’m dead fucking serious, and this,” he says and points to his eye again, “isn’t even half as bad as what this loser has put Lexi through.”

He turns to me and starts to walk towards the door.

“Come on, Lexi, let’s get out of here.”

“Coen, stop right there,” Sarah insists. “I demand an explanation right now. You are being extremely disrespectful and rude in my home and I won’t stand for it.”

“Me? I’m disrespectful? I’m rude?” he scoffs. “Your perfect son here gets his fucking rocks off on belittling women to make himself feel better about his pathetic little life. But that’s not all—his most recent favorite thing to do is kidnap them on their way home from work, tie them up and gag them in a cold, damp, abandoned warehouse and smack them around, all while being drunk off his ass. Yeah, real fucking prize son you have there, Aunt Sarah.”

Patrick is laughing like he’s gone completely mental.

“Don’t you know, Coen? Your slutty little girlfriend here likes being tied up and told what to do.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. Just as I’m about to bolt out the door, Coen turns