Page 5 of Because I Liked A Boy
The world tilts.
“Shit—” The curse rips from my throat, jagged with panic. I wrench the wheel, tyres screaming like something alive. The
fox vanishes. Headlights spin across trees, guardrails—then nothing but black..
Nathan shouts my name. I reach for him without thinking, fingers brushing his sleeve—
And in that split second, I’m glad he’s here. Glad it’s him beside me.
I don’t remember the sound of the crash.
I remember Nathan’s hand slipping out of mine. And then—
Nothing.
Where No One Knows Me
One Month Later
The train exhales like it’s glad to be rid of me.
I step down onto the platform with one suitcase, a battered backpack, and a month of running heavy on my shoulders. The air here is warmer, sharp with dust and engine oil, nothing like London’s glass-and-smoke choke hold.
One month since the crash.
One month since Nathan’s hand slipped out of mine.
One month since my father decided I was nothing.
I didn’t leave straight after the funeral. I told myself I was staying for Penelope, that maybe I could protect her. But the night it broke proved I couldn’t even protect myself.
She came for dinner, nervous in her pale dress, fingers twisting in her lap. She looked so out of place at our table, where Nathan used to sit. Sofia sat beside her, stiff and silent, like she already knew she was about to be erased.
My father didn’t acknowledge Nathan’s absence. He didn’t toast to family. He didn’t even say his name. He just poured himself a drink and studied Penelope like she was property he’d just acquired.
“Polite posture,” he murmured, tilting his head at her. “Quiet. Teachable. She’s everything you’ll never be, Isabella.”
“She’s a child,” I snapped.
His gaze slid to me, slow and deliberate, like a blade being drawn. “So were you. And you grew into nothing but a liability.”
The slap came without warning. My cheek burned, vision blurring as the room went still.
“You should have died with Nathan,” he whispered, venomous, his mouth so close I could taste the scotch on his breath.
Something inside me cracked. I shoved my chair back so hard the legs screeched across the marble. “Maybe the board should know what kind of man you really are. Maybe the press would love to hear what you do behind closed doors.”
That was when his hand clamped around my wrist, twisting until pain shot up my arm.
“You think they’d listen to you?” he hissed. “You’re reckless. Weak. A disgrace. You’re nothing without my name, and soon you won’t even have that.”
He shoved me back. My chair toppled, slamming into the floor.
“Enough,” he barked. His mask had cracked, and it was worse than his calm. “Get her out of my sight. Let her pack, and then I never want her in this house again.”
The men in suits moved instantly, shadows turned executioners.
Upstairs, I stuffed my life into a single suitcase. My hands shook so badly I could barely zip it. My chest ached, my cheek throbbed, my father’s words carved into me like brands.
