“Don’t worry. I’m out. If I look at you for another second, something might happen,” I rumble, wishing my eyes could burn holes in him. God, I’d love to torch the bastard with my mind. What a fucking superhero I’d be then.
“Are you threatening me, Iazetti?” Charles steps toward me. “Because you never seem to remember who you’re dealing with and you continue to defy me. That proves to me you’re more of a fucking idiot than I thought. And if you have a shred of a brain cell operating in that otherwise empty head of yours, you’ll walk out that fucking door and not look back.” His face is now bright red and I wonder how much further I have to push to get the vein to pop.
“Oh, are you going to take over now? Be the father she needs? That’s nice. About fucking time, Mr. Hawthorne.” His name is bitter on my tongue as I fight the urge to deck him right here. At least we’re already in a hospital. A broken eye socket could really do ol’ Chuckie some good. And me? It would do me all of the good in the world to finally punch his damn lights out.
One can dream.
One can fucking dream.
“Charles? Xander?” Cammie Hawthorne rushes up to us, grabbing for her husband’s hand. “Have you seen her?”
I take a few steps backward, pointing down the hall. “Her room is down the hall on the right.”
“Thank you,” Cammie murmurs, pulling Charles along behind her.
I stand, rooted to my spot on the tiled floor, watching them pretend to be doting parents as they hurry down the hallway to their daughter’s bedside.
Better late than never. I just wish that it wasn’t all an act. I can smell the fake ass bullshit wafting off of them, and it’s a hell of a lot stronger than her mother’s Chanel No. 5.
They disappear into her room and I swallow hard.
Fuck them.
Fuck all of this goddamned bullshit.
Chapter 4
Charlotte
“Oh, honey,” my mother coos as she runs the back of her fingers over my swollen cheek.
I was just about to fall back to sleep when my parents burst into my room like a herd of wildebeests. At least Xander had the courtesy to be quiet and wait until I woke up.
“Mom?” I mumble. It feels like there is cotton stuck in my mouth. I try to swallow but I’m way too dehydrated. I point to the pink plastic cup on the table next to my bed. Please let there be water in there.
My mother hands me the cup and helps me take a few sips. The icy liquid burns the back of my throat, but I don’t care.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. We both are.” My eyes finally flutter completely open and start to focus as my father’s broad frame becomes clearer.
“How are you feeling?” My father’s gruff voice breaks out. It’s forced. He’s annoyed to be here. He’s pissed that my accident ruined his workday. I can feel it radiating off of his tone.
“Like I got hit by a truck.” I try to laugh a little. If I couldn’t joke about it, what could I do? Both of my parents’ faces twist into disgust. Apparently, they didn’t like the joke. Was that it? Was I really hit by a truck?
“This is not a laughing matter, young lady.” The words rattle off in rapid fire like my father was just waiting for me to fuck up so he could scold me.
There it is. The Charles Hawthorne we all know and love, ladies and gents.
“Charles, please.” My mom looks at her husband with revulsion.
“Don’t please me! You do not get to tell me how to reprimand my daughter,” my father growls through gritting teeth.
“Now is not the time for this,” my mother barks before turning back to me. “Do you need anything, Charlotte?” My mother’s voice is soft with the slightest hint of panic building up in the background. Why is she acting like she cares? At least my father is acting like himself. I expect it. It’s real. But her? She’s faking it. She has to be.
“To sleep. They have me on a lot of medications. At least, I think they do. I haven’t seen a doctor or a nurse yet. I think I have been sleeping for the most part. Everything is just really foggy right now.” All I want is to be left alone. I don’t need them here. I don’t need to hear them bicker. They don’t