Page 19 of With a Broken Wing
He didn’t move from against the small counter, standing there with his mug in one hand and his other arm crossed over his chest. When I reached for the mug behind him, I brushed closer to him than necessary. He stiffened, and a quiet growl rolled from his chest.
“Andy…” he warned, his voice husky.
With the mug in my hand, I reached around the other side to the coffeepot. I brushed against him again, and when I did, he narrowed his eyes. My hands were shaky while I poured the coffee, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice.
When the mug was full, I stepped back, whipping my messy, wavy hair over my shoulder and turning around. “Andy.” Demetri’s tone was sterner this time.
In my attempt to seem unbothered, I continued to walk back towards my bedroom, the heat of the coffee through the mug burning my fingers. I didn’t say anything or turn to show I’d heard him say my name again.
“Andy! Stop.”
His tone didn’t leave room for argument, and I froze between steps. With a look back over my shoulder, I responded, “Yes, sir?”
The way he narrowed his eyes crossed between a look of frustration and arousal, and again I thought back to the way his mouth had felt on mine. He took slow, even steps towards me, leaving his mug on the counter behind him. Mine shook in my hands, and I took a deep breath to steady it. “We are only going to be in Chicago for tonight. I assume you have confirmation for my meeting tomorrow in Atlanta?”
I took a sip of the coffee before responding. “Not yet, but—”
“Damn it! What did I tell you about mistakes?”
My stomach sank and with it, my confidence. “I haven’t made a mistake, I–”
He didn’t let me finish before he had a hand on either side of my head. The mug in my hands slipped and crashed to the floor, cheap ceramic shattering against the floor and hot coffee splashing against my bare leg. I hissed at the burn of the liquid on my skin.
“When will you fucking learn, hmm?”
* * *
Fifteen Years Earlier
My father’s breath was hot against my cheek, and it smelled strongly of Jameson. It was one of his heavy drinking days. They’d started becoming more common lately. He was meaner when he drank. I mean, he was always mean, always willing to say anything he could to hurt my feelings. It was like a game for him, but when he drank, he didn’t just hurt my feelings.
“When will you fucking learn?” Drops of spit landed on my cheek, and my dad closed his hands tighter around my arms. He pulled me towards him and slammed me back into the wall, causing my head to jerk backwards and leaving a dent in the drywall.
The shooting pain through my skull traveled down my neck, and for a second, I closed my eyes in hopes of getting them to focus again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasped, failing to bring my hands up in front of my face.
“You’re sorry? What does sorry do?” His hands left my arms, and he slammed them against the wall on either side of my head. A shriek slipped from my lips, and I moved quickly to cover my mouth with my hand. “Sorrydoesn’t save me from having an embarrassment for a daughter.”
I had less than a second to defend myself before his rough palm met my cheek, causing it to sting. My eyes watered, and it felt like my jaw needed to pop back into place. Closing my eyes, I braced myself. There was never just one slap.
“Please, I didn’t do anything.”
“You come waltzing into this house like you own the damn place thirty minutes late, and you say you didn’t do anything? Where were you?” I winced at the harshness of his voice, wishing the wall would open up and swallow me whole.
I tried to keep my voice even, hoping not to upset him more. “I was just getting help from my math teacher. He—”
Another slap interrupted me. “He?! I’m sure youweregetting help, you little slut. If you get pregnant at thirteen, I’ll kill you both. Are we clear?”
“I didn’t. I haven’t. I…” He turned and glared at me. “Yes, we’re clear.”
He lifted his arm, but before he could bring his hand down across my face a third time, a scrawny figure appeared in the doorway. “Dad, leave her alone.”
“Auston, stay out of this,” he said. His voice was cold, and he still brought his hand down. He turned to face my twin brother. “I don’t know why you insist on involving yourself!”’
“She didn’t do anything wrong!” My brother puffed out his chest, darting his eyes between my father and where I stood against the wall.
“Boy, this is none of your goddamn business!” His voice roared through the main room of the house, and he turned his attention back to me. The anger he’d had before escalated, and the more infuriated my father got, the more violent he could be. “As foryou. I should’ve gotten rid of you when I had the chance. Biggest. Mistake. Of mylife.”
My father lifted his fist, using his free hand to hold on to my braided hair. Before I could scream, Auston grabbed onto his arm and pulled him backwards, knocking him off-balance. He stumbled before he could catch his footing a couple of feet away, and he turned towards Auston.
