When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,136
the passenger window. The sound of her head connecting with the glass dropped the food from my fingers. I froze for a split second and then rage coursed through me like jet fuel. I took long strides for the Dodge, my breath rasping in and out of my nose.
Amelia pushed out of the passenger door and slammed it shut, crying and holding her face. The guy—Kyle—wore ripped jeans, Chucks, and a stained T-shirt. He came around the front of his car, charging after her.
“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” he bellowed, whipping his dirty blond hair out of his eyes.
“Leave me alone!” Amelia screamed, backing away. The right side of her cheek was swollen, and a bruise was forming on her temple.
The rest of his words cut off with a whuff as I tackled him around the waist. My face scraped pavement as we both went down hard.
“River!” Amelia screamed from somewhere distant.
I could hardly see or hear for the red haze that had dropped over my vision and the blood thrashing in my ears. I rolled the guy over onto his back, straddling him, and smashed my fist across his face. His head whipped to the side, blood splattering.
“Fuck you, asshole!” he spat.
He threw a punch, but it glanced off my chin. I gripped him by the shirt collar, hauling him up and smacking his head back onto the pavement.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her, do you hear me?” I raged. “If I see you near my sister again, I’ll kill you.”
Kyle snarled and his hand jabbed out. A grating pain exploded in my throat, and he scuttled out from under me. I scrambled to my feet, gasping for breath, putting myself between him and Amelia.
“What the hell is this?” asked a voice behind us.
My dad was striding out of the house, hands in fists, his face more animated than I’ve seen in years—twisted in rage. He looked like the football player he’d once been, charging down the line, ready to rip someone’s head off. He took one look at Amelia’s swelling eye and his expression turned murderous.
“Did you do that to my daughter?”
Kyle, now outnumbered, backed off. “Hey man, it’s cool. Things got a little out of hand.”
“You’re going to jail, asshole,” I said as Amelia clutched my arm and buried her face in my back.
“Go ahead and call the cops,” Kyle said, though his voice quavered. “You assaulted me. You slammed my head in the ground—”
“I’m going to do a lot more than slam your head in the ground,” Dad said, his voice shockingly loaded with danger. He backed Kyle up against his car and gripped the front of his shirt, fist raised. “Son, you’re going to wish you were never born…”
“Get off me!”
Kyle shoved my dad back and ran around the other side of his car. He jumped in, tires squealing, the engine sputtering and belching black smoke. I read the license plate as he peeled out, leaving two black streaks on our driveway.
When he was gone, Amelia flew into Dad’s arms. He hugged her tight, stroking her hair.
“Oh, my sweet girl. I’m sorry. Are you okay? I’m so sorry…”
She shook her head against his chest. Over her shoulder, Dad met my eyes.
“What about you, son?”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out. “I’ll call the cops.”
We all went inside the house and later, two police officers arrived to take Amelia’s statement. After seeing her bruised face, the officers felt they had probable cause to arrest Kyle. They said they’d keep us updated and give us further instructions when he was in custody.
Amelia and Dad sat on the couch long after they’d gone while I paced in a small circle. Dad had his arm around my sister, and she was reluctant to leave the comfort of his embrace.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said brokenly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s almost like I’m daring bad things to happen to me just so I can feel…anything else.”
“It’s my fault,” Dad said. “I owe you both an apology. I’ve been sleepwalking. I just…I miss your mom so much. Every day. But you both deserve better. I’m going to do better, I promise.” He glanced down at Amelia. “I just wish it hadn’t taken you getting hurt for me to wake up.”
They hugged again and Amelia looked to me. “River? You’re so quiet.” She crumpled into tears again. “Oh God, your face…”