“I could still have her arrested.”
Analise let out a choked sob. When I glanced at Archer, his face was terrifying—harsh and unforgiving. “For what?” he ground out.
“She fled the scene of a crime. That destruction was caused by her.”
Archer took a step forward. “It was an accident, and it’s being fixed becauseI’mtaking responsibility. There’s no victims here. Nothing she needs to be punished for.”
Rebecca wrapped her arm around Analise and whispered something in her ear. Analise nodded jerkily.
“Why would you do that to your daughter? She’s a kid.”
“I wouldn’t be doing it toher,” he said, cold as ice, slick as a snake. “I’d be doing it to you, son. These are the consequences of your actions. I thought it would be that you’re stuck at that shithole for a few weeks with mongrels and martyrs.” I sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t hear, far too focused on spewing his venom at his own children. “But it turns out, there’s a much more effective way to get this lesson through your head.”
Archer shook his head. “What is wrong with you?”
“Me? Nothing. I have children acting out, and any good parent knows that discipline is required when that happens. She lied. You both did. She didn’t take responsibility and allowed you to take the fall for her. And let’s add theft to the list, given she used one of my credit cards without permission and charged eight thousand dollars for some fucking guilt gift for that fucking pound.”
I gasped. Loudly. It was out before I could stop it.
Analise gave me a wide-eyed look.
“That wasyou?” I whispered. “You sent it?”
Tears continued to spill over her cheeks. “I had to do something. I’m so sorry I lied, Remi.”
His father took a few steps closer, eyes narrowed, and the air seemed to drop twenty degrees as he connected missing pieces in his head. “You’re from that shelter?” he said.
Archer stepped more fully in front of me. “Remi, Analise, let’s go. Now.”
Then his dad started smiling. Big and wide and toothy, his veneers white and blinding in his face. He was laughing in the next moment. “Oh, this is perfect.” Then he clapped Archer on the shoulder so hard that the slap of his hand made me flinch.
Archer’s chin rose, his eyes chips of ice in his face.
His father leaned in, lowering his voice. “Maybe you do have two brain cells left to rub together. Fucking your way through your community service might be a little cliché, but she looks like a pleasant enough way to spend the time.”
The sound that left Archer was hardly anything more than a growl, but he had his dad’s shirt fisted in his hands as he shoved forward, slamming his dad’s back against the wall in the next heartbeat.
Mr. Evans made a choking sound, tearing at Archer’s hands. “Get the fuck off me.”
“One more word,” Archer warned. “About either of them. One more word, old man.”
His smile was sickly triumphant. “And you’ll what? You can’t do anything to me.”
Archer’s hands tightened, the muscles in his arms rock hard, the veins standing out in sharp relief. The damage he could inflict, should he choose, was enough to make my mouth go dry.
If he did, though . . .
If he did, things would get so much worse.
Even though my knees shook at the overwhelming display of strength and violence, I took a step forward. “Archer.” He pinched his eyes shut, hands trembling where he held his father against the wall. “Please. Let’s go.”
Then he relaxed his jaw. His eyes opened. Hands fell away from his father’s shirt. He stepped back.
His gaze found mine—exhausted and heartbroken, and more than anything, I wanted to wrap him in my arms.
“Let’s go,” he repeated.
Because he was looking at me, because Analise and Rebecca were already turning toward the door, I was the only one who saw his father ball up his fist and take the swing.