Page 13 of My Heart to Keep
“Dad wants you downstairs in ten minutes.” Carter’s tone made me shiver. He had a lot of the same qualities as our dad—deep voice, commanding presence, and strict in his morals when it came to what girls should and should not do. However, the one difference was that Carter didn’t give an inch. At least I could reason with Daddy. With Carter, there was no reasoning. I pitied his future daughters.
Regardless, I didn’t think any amount of reasoning with Daddy was going to work that night.
Take your licks and keep your mouth shut. Daddy might be lenient.
I would like to believe the voice in my head, but I knew I was in a world of shit.
I hardly had time for a shower, but I couldn’t go downstairs looking like I’d been dragged through pig shit and mud. So I jumped in the shower and rinsed off, although no amount of water would wash away what I’d done. Fifteen minutes later, I wound my way downstairs.
Momma’s voice trickled out of the kitchen. “Call when you have news. Oh, and Liam, give my best to her mom.”
I padded lightly down the hall until I was standing in the arched doorway between the kitchen and family room.
Daddy was sitting at our picnic-style table, drinking from a coffee cup. “How’s Celia?”
I slid off to the side so he wouldn’t see me.
“Not good,” Momma said.
I covered my mouth with my hand to stop the sob that was about to come barreling out.
“Liam will keep us posted.” Momma’s voice was filled with sadness.
“Quinn, I know you’re listening. Get in here now!” Daddy’s voice boomed.
I shivered as if I were standing naked outside in the dead of winter. I took one tiny step at a time and inched into the brightly lit kitchen. It blinded me, yet darkness encroached from all sides as I settled near the fridge, away from Daddy.
His brown gaze was soaking in fury. The wrinkles on his forehead were deep, and his nostrils were opening and closing like he was struggling for air.
I swallowed a lump of coal as I regarded Momma. Her lips were pursed, her features tight, and her gaze as hard as stone.
The silence was maddening, and the longer neither of them said anything, the more my insides spun. I didn’t think I had anything else to throw up, but my stomach was telling me otherwise.
I flipped my wet hair over my shoulder for nothing else than to expel some nerves.
Daddy finally spoke. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
The last time I had done anything to warrant Daddy’s wrath had been in the eighth grade. He’d warned me not to go near a new horse we’d had at the time.
“I need to break him before you ride him,” Daddy had said. “It’s dangerous. Do you understand?”
“But I can break him,” I’d returned.
“Absolutely not. He’ll kill you.”
I hadn’t listened to him. I’d wanted to show him I could break in the horse. However, the minute I took the horse out of the stall, he’d gotten spooked at a loud noise in the barn. I’d ended up with bruised ribs and an ego to match. Daddy had been irritated and scared that day, not glaringly furious.
“I’m waiting, young lady.”
Momma watched, her expression unwavering.
I locked my trembling fingers together in front of me. “I’m sorry.” That was all I could say. I had no other words.
“Where did you get the liquor?” Momma asked.
I bit my lip. “Some boy.”
“Name.” Daddy’s tone was hard and scary.
