Page 19 of Protect

Daddy issues is a serious phrase to throw around me. Jaxon might not know it, but I expect more from our years of friendship. I want to get Hope too. There’s no bridge I wouldn’t burn, but I’m not going to waste time for some illusion of a solution. My father—no matter how much I badger him—isn’t going to do anything today.

“You really don’t give a fuck? You could be doing more! We’re supposed to be different than in high school and you’re letting her stay with himagain!”

“You didn’t do shit either!” I yell. “When exactly did you grab her and pull her off his lap at dinner? When did you bring a video of him fucking her to the police? When did you step in and ask if she wanted her dad like he told us?”

Jaxon stews. I see all the warning signs. He’s going to break me in half—or try to. He’s going to grab my phone, shove it against my head while beating the shit out of me (my dad will love it), then demand answers or he’ll kill me. My dad will encourage him to do it and to let him listen. Then Jax will know exactly why my dad won’t help.

“How fucking dare you. You didn’t do shit either and now—”

“I’m telling you this is a dead end,” I hiss, struggling to control my own temper. “He’sa dead end. He won’t help. He’s wrapped around Coach’s finger and if we say that Coach kidnapped Hope, my dad will shrug and say that she probably deserved it or is lying about it.”

He huffs. “You don’t know that.”

“He didn’t do a damn thing when she told my dad what hers was doing to her. He took herbackhome and told her to stop spreading rumors. He laughed with her dad about her rebellion. Is that the kind of man who’s going to help us, Jax? Is that the kind of man you want me to waste time—”

“Shut up,” Jaxon snarls, taking a menacing step forward. “You always do this.”

“Do what?” I ask as I rise up to meet him.

“Talk big, then do nothing. Knox is hunting them down and we’re supposed to be giving him a fucking direction and you won’t man up and deal with your dad.”

“Jaxon.”

“You never follow through. You dojustenough,” Jaxon snarls, then shoves me. “So if something happens to her, if he manages to touch her, if he lays another hand on her from this point on… it’s on you.”

“Then you figure some shit out instead of threatening people, saying you don’t want to see things, and lashing out!” I demand. “Since you have all the answers, give them to Knox!” I toss the phone to him and turn to walk away.

“Don’t you fucking walk away!”

I linger. “I don’t need you here for any of this shit. You pace, bark demands, then threaten with your fucking fists. If this is friendship or a taste of what Hope’s in for, then I hope she escapes on her own and you never see her again.”

I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, but I’m not taking them back. Not today, not right now. Instead, I head to my apartment. I can’t deal with Jaxon and fix this problem. If he wants something done, he can figure it out on his own. I’m going to try to look at this a different way since we’ve spent too much time on watching the worst moments of Hope’s life.

There has to be something in Coach’s past that will bring us to him. There has to be something that my dad knows about, butwon’t share. Knox is at the house finding what he can, so now it’s time I do the same by looking into his past, his investments, any properties he owns.

I’m sure Jaxon is fuming or beating the shit out of the apartment I just left, but that’s his problem now. If he can’t handle the fact that waiting is part of the process, then he can’t handle being with Hope. Honestly, I’m not even sure if he wants her for the right reasons anymore.

Having her just to make sure her dad doesn’t isn’t good enough.

I sigh and wring my hands together.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

Eight

KNOX

Ican’t stop the tears from staining my cheeks as I finish a new passage.

My faith in a better ending is weakening and I try to hide somewhere in my mind when he pounds inside me. I could smell the alcohol, the blood. But the pain, it’s almost soothing now.

Maybe I need more pain.

More pain to make it stop.

“No,” I whisper as my fingers trail over the smudges of blood on the pages.

My gaze draws back up to the date and I mumble. “A few days before she… ran.”

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