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With a raised brow, he repeats, “Your mother and I will deal with Samantha.”
“Oh, her ass is mine about that car.” Kaleb sneers.
“Fuck you,” Sam spits out angrily, tears coming fast and hard, but one look from the normally gentle Helen Cromwell, and she settles back into the corner of the chair, tugging her cover higher. “And fuck her,” she mumbles quietly, glaring at Lara.
CHAPTER NINE
Lara
Everyone freezes, shock evident on their face.
I peek at Kaleb next to me, whose brows are shoved so high on his forehead they’re practically a part of his hairline.
The first sound is a sniffle, and then a full-on sob rips out of Sam. Not like before, these are gut-wrenching, all-consuming cries. I watch as guilt visibly floods Michael. His shoulders sag, the tension in his body drops away, and his face crumples.
“Fuck,” he curses, scrubbing at his face, his distress clear. “Sammy . . .” he starts, but his dad holds up his hand.
“I think that’s quite enough, son.”
Michael hesitates but eventually gives a firm nod.
“You boys take . . .” He hesitates, not knowing what to actually call me.
“Lara,” I fill in as quietly as I can. I don’t think I have ever been this uncomfortable.
“You boys take Lara and get her settled for the night.” He twists his wrist, looking at the time on his watch. “Well, what’s left of it. Your mother and I will talk with your sister.”
“A good spanking is what she needs,” Kaleb mutters, but his voice carries across the quiet room.
His words only add to the tense atmosphere, and Sam’s crying intensifies.
“Not helpful, Kaleb. And we don’t hit in this house.”
Michael grimaces, rubbing at his jaw.
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Kaleb replies.
Both parents react to his words. Their mom wraps her arm around an inconsolable Sam, while their dad simply points at the stairs.
Kaleb turns to me, arms out, ready to pick me up, but Michael coughs.
The two brothers share a look with me stuck in the middle. Finally, Kaleb nods once.
“Okay, Fawn, hop on,” he tells me. Turning, he crouches slightly and pats his back.
He’s joking, right?
“You’re joking, right?”
Kaleb straightens, twisting his torso to speak to me. “No?”
“I have a bum ankle,” I point out.
“That’s why I’m going to carry you.”
“I can’t hop on.” I gesture to my foot again.
“Oh.” He smiles. “We’ve got you.” He gestures back and forth between himself and his brother. Again, Kaleb turns away but crouches down even lower this time.
