“Get in,” she said, her voice taking on a frustrated tone.
“Come on, Theresa. Get in,” Jane practically begged, obviously wanting to get far away from whatever the hell was happening.
“You will do as your mother asks,” my father commanded.
I whipped around and saw him standing behind me. I looked beyond him and saw Grant picking up his things from the lawn. He was shoving them into a trash bag before he slung it over his shoulder. His eyes rose to mine, and I could see the fear and uncertainty on his face. He stood tall and rolled his shoulders back, his eyes locking with mine one last time.
Then he turned on his heels and walked down the road carrying his only possessions with him.
“I hate you,” I said, seething.
“I don’t know what that boy did to you, but you will not speak to your mother, and I like this,” my father said.
“He didn’t do anything to me!” I exclaimed.
“Get in the car!” my father roared.
“No!”
Tears were pouring down my cheeks as I ran away from my parents. I wanted to run after Grant, but I knew that would simply make them angrier. I ran up the opposite end of the road, hoping to wrap around and catch Grant as he was leaving the neighborhood. I didn’t know where he was going or why any of this had happened, but I wanted to catch him.
I didn’t know what in the hell my father was talking about.
I huffed and puffed as I made my way around the neighborhood. Tears were streaming down my neck as my eyes darted around for him. I walked through the woods, wondering if maybe he took a shortcut. I knew that he and my brother had some sort of treehouse or abandoned barn in the woods they would always go to when things became too much. Maybe he was there, biding his time until my parents would let him come back.
They wouldn’t really kick him out.
Not after what his own parents had done to him.
But the longer I walked, the more my heart sank to my toes. When I made my way back home, my mother rushed out to get me. My father was glaring at me and tears were still falling
from my eyes.
I didn’t care what they thought any longer.
My heart was breaking.
My mother sat me down at the kitchen table, and I stared off through the window. I was angry with my father. I hated him, in fact. My mother set some water in front of me, but I shoved it away. I didn’t want water. Or food. Or air.
I wanted Grant.
Only Grant.
But he was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
CHAPTER 2
GRANT
“Hollis. Upstairs.”
“What?” Hollis asked.
“Get upstairs, honey,” Laura said.
“What’s going on?” Hollis asked.
“Do what your mother says,” Glen said.