Sweet Little Lies (Dirty Little Lies Duet #2) - J.D. Hollyfield Page 0,57

as I catch a glimpse of Gabriel, his expression blank. He’s not going to fight. I’m on my own here. I feel like a child again, terrified and shaking. I want to jump out of my skin. The sound of my pounding heart is like an alarm blaring in my head.

I take a careful step toward my dad. “Dad, it’s not what you think,” I rush out.

“You better fucking hope so.” He turns to Gabriel. “Why the fuck is my daughter at your house when she should be at school?”

Gabriel doesn’t respond.

“Dad, please just listen to me for a second—”

I jump back at his booming voice aimed at me. “I don’t know why you’re here, but get the fuck out, Hazel. Get the fuck out of here!” He takes a threatening step toward Gabriel. “Tell me I heard my daughter wrong, you son of a bitch.”

Gabriel doesn’t move or cower at Dad’s fury. “I can’t.”

My stomach drops when my dad leaps at him, cocking his fist back and slamming it into Gabriel’s jaw. Gabriel doesn’t fight back, allowing my dad another open shot to his nose. “You fucking piece of shit! You’re fucking my goddamn daughter?” His voice cracks. Another punch. Blood splatters from Gabriel’s nose, his lip.

I run toward them, needing Dad to stop. “Daddy, stop! This isn’t his fault! It’s mine!” He whips around, the fury in his gaze halting me. “Get the fuck out of here. Wait for me at home. I’ll deal with you later.”

He turns back to Gabriel. “How could you? How fucking could you!” he yells, his voice hoarse. The anguish in his tone kills me. Pain and regret bleed from Gabriel’s gaze, and I can’t help but hate myself for what I’ve done.

“Daddy, please! Stop!”

He grabs at the lapels of Gabriel’s shirt, shoving him into the wall. A vase knocks over, shattering at their feet. “You’re fucking dead. DEAD! I’m going to murder you with my bare hands—”

“Daddy, stop! You’re hurting him!”

“I told you to leave. Why the fuck are you still here?”

Gabriel finally reacts, shoving my dad off. “Watch how you talk to her,” he growls.

Everything happens so fast. Like two wild animals, they attack. Hit for hit—each punch landing on its target, blood splattering against the walls and across their expensive dress shirts. I stand there frozen, forced to watch with wild eyes. My heart races. I grab at my head, forcing my brain to stop the madness. A shrilling scream tears up my throat, and I almost throw up from the intensity. But my screams fall on deaf ears. The only saving grace is when Violet takes control of the situation.

“Heath, that’s enough,” she says, her voice stern.

Dad whips around. “What the fuck are you doing here? Did you know about this?” He aims his anger at her now. He releases his tight grip on Gabriel, wiping blood from his cut lip, and walks toward Violet, then abruptly turns back, facing Gabriel. “You’re fucking dead to me. Stay the fuck away from my daughter.”

Gabriel doesn’t respond. He doesn’t make eye contact with me. My dad grabs at my shoulder to shove me out of the house, and I cry out at his painful hold.

“I’m not leaving.”

“The fuck you are,” he barks.

I fight out of his grasp. “I said I’m not—”

“Leave.”

My head whips in Gabriel’s direction. “I’m not—”

“Listen to your father. Get out of my house.”

His tone is harsh, his cold stare void of emotion. I open my mouth to fight. For him. For us. But Violet gently taps my shoulder. “I think we should go.” I can’t believe this. Again, I prepare to fight, but Gabriel wipes at his bloody jaw and walks away.

I become blind with my own fury. My pain and disappointment intertwine and create a tornado of emotion. Then I turn my raging vehemence toward my dad. “How could you!”

“How could I? Are you kidding me right now! You have some nerve, Haze—”

“Don’t you Hazel me! You’re a fucking hypocrite! You pull this shit on me and ask me to accept it—which I do—then you react like this!”

“He’s my best fucking friend! He’s more than twice your age!” he booms back.

His anger doesn’t scare me; it only fuels my own. “Again, hypocrite! Last I checked, Violet is my best friend and the same age as me!”

“This isn’t about us. This is about you.” He jabs a finger at me, and I storm toward him, stabbing him in the chest.

“No, it’s about you expecting everyone to be open-minded