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Mr Archer waits as if he’s thinking it over. He spits out a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Fine.” There’s no fight left. He doesn’t raise his head to look at him. “I’ll check into a hotel for a few nights.”
“No. Not for a few nights. You go. You don’t come back. Ever.”
“Jeremy, that’s?—”
“How it’s going to be!” he shouts, cutting anything his dad was going to say. “Mum is tired of your shit. I’m eighteen now. Just fucking leave.” He leans over him, barring his teeth as he repeats his order.
His dad nods, his eye already starting to close from the bruising.
“Come on.” He spins and grabs my wrist, the same one his dad grabbed. I pull it from his hold, but he barely notices as he storms out.
“Wait, Jeremy. Calm down. Look at your hand.” The blood from his split knuckle is dripping down his arm.
He diverts into the downstairs bathroom and starts to run the tap, rinsing the blood away. I hover at the door, watching him as I keep my arms wrapped around me.
He looks up into the mirror. Gone are the beautiful eyes that always draw me in. In their place are dark, moody depths that whisper of pain and anger.
His hands ball into fists, and he thumps both into the mirror, smashing it to pieces.
“Jeremy!” I grab his shoulders and pull him out. “Come on. Let’s go. Let’s go!” I repeat more forcefully. He seems to snap out of his rage and focuses on me, locking eyes with me. He looks broken, and his eyes shine with unshed tears, tearing at my own heart for what he’s done. Defending me. Standing up to his dad but also ripping his family apart.
He grabs my face and kisses me. It’s short and chaste, but at that moment, it tells me everything I need to know.
He nods and takes my hand, pulling me out of the house and to his car.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I don’t know. But I don’t care. I just need to be with you and make sure you’re safe.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jeremy
Red.
That’s all I see.
Not even the sting in my hands can cut through the fury pulsing through me.
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to pound into his smug, entitled face until there was nothing left, but she stopped me.
Any kind of control vanished. And now all I want to do is escape.
Leave.
Run.
I don’t fucking care, but I can’t see him again.
How could he fucking do that? I pound the steering wheel with my fists, which only makes them throb more.
“Easy, Jere.” Her voice is soft, but there’s a tremor that’s not normally there. She’s frightened, and right now, I don’t know if it’s just because of him or what she saw after.
“Fuck!”
She shrinks into her seat, and I’m hit with a punch of guilt.
“Sorry. We’ll be at yours in a second.”
