Page 11 of Scornful

I shoot my brother a glare. "We're not. He was just in the right place at the right time, that's all."

Emil grunts, clearly unconvinced. "Didn't look like 'that's all' from where I was standin’."

I bite back a sharp retort.

There's no point arguing with Emil when he's in full protective-big-brother mode.

He and Oskar have been that way since Mom died—overbearing, hypervigilant, treating me like I'm made of glass even though I'm twenty-four fucking years old.

"Can we drop it, please? I just want to forget the whole thing even happened."

Emil sighs, the fight draining out of him. "Fine. But Dad's going to want to know why your arm looks like that." He nods toward the bruises forming where Laken grabbed me.

Shit.

I didn’t even think about that.

"I'll handle Dad," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. Our dad isn't exactly known for his calm, measured responses when it comes to his kids.

We pull into the driveway of my childhood home, the familiar two-story with its wrap-around porch that I grew up in.

Charm's car is parked out front, and I can see lights on in the kitchen.

My stepmother is probably cooking dinner, unaware of the drama that's about to walk through her front door.

Maybe I can convince her we both need a glass of wine, stat.

Emil kills the engine, his eyes searching my face. "You're sure you're okay?"

I nod, offering him a small smile. "I'm fine, Em. I promise. Laken's a piece of shit, but he's a coward at heart. One real scare and he'll crawl back under whatever rock he came from."

Emil doesn't look entirely convinced, but he lets it go as we head inside.

The house smells like garlic and tomato sauce—lasagna night.

My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since lunch at the spa.

Charm calls from the kitchen. "That you, Emil?"

"Yeah, Mom. And I've got Astrid with me," Emil responds, shooting me a pointed look that says 'brace yourself'.

Charm appears in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

At forty-five, she's still beautiful—tall and willowy with hair as red as a fire engine truck and sharp features.

Her eyes light up when she sees me, then immediately narrow as she notices the bruises on my arm.

She rushes across the room. "What happened?"

"It's nothing," I say quickly, pulling my sleeve down. "Just a little misunderstanding. All sorted now."

"Misunderstanding my ass," Emil mutters, earning a quick glare from Mom.

"Language," she chides automatically, but her focus remains on me. "Astrid, who did this to you?"

I sigh, knowing there's no way to avoid this conversation. "It was Laken. He showed up at Bubba's, we had words, he grabbed me. But Geirolf stepped in and took care of it."

Charm's eyes widen slightly at the mention of Geirolf. "Geirolf?"

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