The only thing I could really do was continue on with life as normal and swallow down the pain.
A quick glance at my watch showed that it was already past six. “Sorry to cut this short,” I started, reaching into my purse to grab my wallet. “It’s getting late and I still need to check on my dad.”
Aurora’s hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around my wrist to stop me. “Don’t worry about it; I’ve got it.”
“You don’t have to—”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “If you haven’t realized it already, I like to take care of my besties. Dinner is on me. Go take care of your dad and we’ll talk to you later.”
I put my wallet back in my purse and pushed the chair back, rising to my feet while giving my new friends a bright smile. It was the first time in days I’d actually felt good. “Just in case I haven’t told you already, you guys are the best, and I’m so glad I met you both.”
Lark looked up at me with a smile before reaching out to take my hand and give it a squeeze. “The feeling’s mutual, babe.”
Aurora nodded solemnly. “What she said.”
I bent to place a kiss on both their cheeks before turning and heading out of the restaurant. The sight of the loaner truck parked at the curb made my blood begin to boil. It was just another unwelcome reminder of Stone, and I needed to get rid of it as fast as possible. I’d have to take care of that tomorrow, though. My dad needed me tonight.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I pointed the truck toward my father’s house and started in that direction. The door was unlocked when I got there, and I let out a sigh of frustration that he hadn’t remembered to lock it, yet again.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Dad?”
A loud crash came from the second level. With my heart in my throat, I ran up the stairs as fast as my heels would allow, grabbing the newel post at the top of the staircase as I whipped around in the direction of his room. “Dad? Are you okay?”
I came to a screeching halt just inside the doorway. My heart nearly fell to the floor at the state of his bedroom. All the drawers had been pulled open, the contents strewn across the floor. The clothes had been ripped out of the closet and were scattered all over the place among broken hangers. The sheets and comforter had been ripped off the bed and it looked like the pillows had been thrown around without a care, knocking picture frames and knickknacks off the dresser and nightstands.
In the middle of all the chaos, the broken glass and porcelain, was my dad, looking harried, his eyes wide and manic, his face red with exertion.
“Where is it!” Dad yelled.
“Dad, stop!” I cried, lifting my hands palms out. “Just don’t move, okay? You’re barefoot, and there’s broken glass everywhere.”
His wide gaze shot to mine, and I barely recognized the man looking back at me. “You,” he hissed, his rage-filled eyes boring into me like laser beams. “You did this. You stole it! You’re one of them, aren’t you? Get out of my house!” He lunged toward me like a raging bull, like he didn’t even recognize who I was.
I stumbled backward, hitting the wall in the hallway with my arms held up in front of me. “No, Dad. It’s me! It’s Willow!”
“You’re one of them!” he continued to scream, his fury so acute his cheeks were actually starting to turn purple. “Get the fuck out! I’ll kill you!”
Before I had a chance to react—or duck—his arm swung wide, the back of his hand connecting with my cheekbone so hard I stumbled sideways, falling to the floor as starbursts formed in front of my eyes.
It wasn’t him, I knew that. This was one of his episodes. The worst he’d ever experienced. He never in a million years would have hit me if he’d been in his right mind. My dad was a loving, big-hearted person. He’d never take his hands to anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to bring himself to spank us when we were kids.
But the man who’d just struck me wasn’t my father.
I tried my best to remain calm despite the tears rushing from my eyes. The main goal right now was to calm him down. Maybe that would get him back. But even if that didn’t happen, I couldn’t risk him hurting himself. I didn’t give a shit about myself. I had to keep him safe.
With one hand out in a placating gesture, I carefully pushed to my knees. “It’s okay, Dad. You’re safe. It’s all right, I promise.”
“No!” he shouted so loud it made my ears ring. “No, you’re one of them. I won’t let you take me!”
Before I could get to my feet, he turned on his heel and darted back into the bedroom. A second later I heard the bathroom door slam, and fear so thick I thought it might choke me, saturated my blood.
“Dad!” I shouted, running into the bedroom. I headed straight for the bathroom door. Reaching for the knob, I gave it a jostle, trying to get it open. But he’d locked himself inside.
Calling him dad wasn’t working, so I decided it was best to use his name.
“Jon? It’s okay, Jon. Come on, you can open the door. You’re safe, I swear. No one’s going to take you, you have my word.” I knocked on the door, trying my best to sound calm, but I couldn’t keep my voice from trembling.
“Please, just open the door. Everything will be okay.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” he yelled through the solid wood. I heard him rustling around inside the small bathroom. It had been a while since I last checked his medicine cabinet to make sure nothing dangerous was inside, and the panic clutching my chest just then threatened to take me to my knees.
Remembering that I dropped my purse on the floor just inside the front door, I ran as fast as I possibly could down the stairs into the entryway. Dropping down to the floor, I wrestled around inside the bag, digging for my phone. As soon as I found it I scrolled to Crissy’s name and hit go.
She answered on the second ring. “Hey sis, what’s up?”
“Crissy,” I started frantically, my hands shaking so hard it was a wonder I could keep the phone to my ear. “I’m at Dad’s. I need you to get here now. He’s having an episode; it’s really bad. He’s locked himself in the bathroom. I need your help . . . please.”
She didn’t hesitate before saying, “I’ll be right there. Give me ten minutes.”
Before she could disconnect the call I spoke up. “Bring Phil,” I told her, hating what I was about to say. “He’s in a rage. He’s violent, Criss. I don’t think we can handle him ourselves.”
There was a brief pause before my sister sniffled through the line, and I knew without having to see her face that she started to cry. “All right,” she said, her voice cracking over those two words. “I’ll grab Phil. We’re on our way now.”
The call disconnected and my hand dropped like the weight of the phone in my palm was just too heavy to keep my arm up. Sagging all the way to the floor, I gave in to the sobs tearing at the inside of my chest, desperate to get out.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there on the floor, but it felt like no time had passed at all, yet at the same time it seemed as if an eternity had ticked by.
The front door burst open and Crissy and Phil came rushing inside. My sister looked down at me with wide, pain-filled eyes. “Where is he?”