With a sense of dread, I hopped off the bench and stuck my head inside the door. “Dad!” I hollered through the house. “There is someone here to see you.”
He made a grunting noise, followed by, “I’m coming.”
“Afternoon,” one of the officers greeted as I let the screen door swing closed and turn back to face the policemen.
Micah grinned, flashing teeth. “Well, if it isn’t Elmwood’s finest. What brings you by?”
The other officer cleared his throat. “We’re looking for Easton James. Is he home?”
Micah remained lounged in on the swing like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Depends.”
“Micah,” I hissed, giving the cops an apologetic smile.
“Are you Josie James?” the other officer asked.
“She isn’t at liberty to say,” Micah answered before I could.
“Ignore my friend. Yes, I’m Josie,” I told the cops, ignoring the frown Micah sent at me.
“If your father isn’t home—?”
“He is,” Dad said, stepping out onto the porch. “What’s this about now?” He sounded exhausted, and I realized the past few days had taken a toll on him. Taking care of me. Dealing with Angie. The cops. Disrupting his routine. The Elite. Trying to keep the peace.
“We’re here to serve you this.” The officer handed over some official-looking documents.
Dad’s eyes skimmed over the first sheet of paper. His brows furrowed, features pinching into something akin to anger. “This has to be a mistake.”
“Dad, what is it?”
At the sound of my voice, his head jerked up like he’d forgotten I was there. I saw something in his face that sent alarm through me. I didn’t want to believe there was anything that could frighten my father, but whatever was typed on that report had him clearly upset.
“Josie, go inside,” he ordered.
“Dad?”
“Just go,” he clipped out. “I’ll handle this.” Dad rarely used that tone of voice with me. It threw me off guard, and I flinched. I turned to leave, Micah straightening to his full height beside me. He had a good four inches over both officers.
They eyed him warily before turning back to my father. “Sorry, sir. Your daughter needs to come with us. She’s been reported as a runaway and we’ve been asked to return into her mother’s care.”
Wait. What? Did they say they were taking me into custody? My heart began to race, pumping hard in my chest.
“Josie is not going anywhere,” Micah stated, adamantly, positioning himself just in front of me.
I clutched the back of Micah’s arm as if it was the only way to keep me grounded, to keep them from taking me. “You don’t understand. I can’t go back there. It’s not safe.” My voice wavered, giving away the panic quickly rising to hysteria.
“Is that who did that to you?” he asked, indicating to the bruises and acknowledging them for the first time.
Lie! Lie! Lie!A voice screamed inside my head.Tell them it was Angie or Carter. “No,” I exhaled.Idiot. You should have lied. Now you have to go back to that house.
The officer gave me a sympathetic look. “We don’t want to make this more difficult than it has to be, but if you don’t come with us, your father could be charged with harboring a runaway.”
“This is insane. She is my daughter,” Dad argued.
“But unfortunately, her mother has full custody.”
But she’s not my fucking mother,I wanted to scream. How had I not seen this coming? Of course Angie would pull some kind of bitch-ass move like this. It was the only way she could get me under her control. For as much trouble as I caused her these last months, I didn’t know why she just didn’t wash her hands of me. I was like a possession she couldn’t let go of. It didn’t matter how many times or different ways she forced me to return to that house. I’d just leave again and again.
“She is seventeen,” my father pointed out.