Page 21 of Forged in Rain

“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, glancing over his shoulder and pulling back with wide eyes when Cyn’s thunderous face comes into view.

He pulls Rand around, grabs his shirt, and shakes him down like a rag doll as he roars, “Did you just put your hands on what’s mine?”

Rand laughs uneasily, his face suffusing with color. “She isn’t yours. You dropped her and told everyone she’s a skanky whore.”

All the blood in my body rushes to my brain and I sway on my feet for a moment before spinning on my heels. I see nothing but the red haze clouding my vision as I escape out the doors, making a beeline for the parking lot.

Cyn calls out behind me, “Rain!”

“No,” I mutter, and I’m halfway through the lot when he catches up to me.

Pulling me against his back, he grabs me up, but I drop to dead weight, and he swears as he loses his hold. Landing on my feet, I kick out at him before jogging away, ignoring him when he growls, “Goddamn it, beauty.”

Eventually, I slow down when I see he’s not following, but I keep going until I end up at the bridge, where I sit down warily and lean against the railing.

Never more than now do I miss my parents and brother, and I damn them for being so anti-everything that they don’t even have a phone.

I could use a hug, a nice word, something.

Cyn’s complete cruelty in the face of a painful decision I made to save my cousin stings. He’s a fucking hypocrite but try telling that to him. And the whole I’m his property thing? Yeah, I don’t think so.

Ignoring the buzz in my pants, I sit and brood until school is out before heading home, but I’m not prepared for the cop car in the drive when I approach. Slowing, I try to calm the panic curling through my system. What now?

With my hand on the knob, I suck in a breath. I can’t afford to act suspicious, but with my sweaty palms and erratic heartbeat, I fear that’s going to be impossible.

Peeking through the door before entering, I spy Pam on the couch sitting across from a stern-looking officer, who asks when I stop awkwardly on the threshold, “This is your daughter?”

“No, this is my niece, Rain,” she says quietly, giving me a strained grin, but her eyes are bloodshot and weepy, and she’s clutching her hands tightly in her lap.

“What’s wrong?” I rasp, stepping up to her.

“Honey, there’s been . . . something’s happened,” she says, rubbing her mouth.

“What?”

“I guess, well,” she chokes. “Your uncle was doing some bad things.”

“Oh?” I ask, my pulse a jackhammer in my throat.

Holy shit. Does Pam know? What’s going to happen now?

“Yes, I found some things . . . and well, it’s . . .”

“Has Mr. Preston ever made inappropriate overtures toward you?” the officer interjects.

“What do you mean?” I ask dumbly.

Before he can answer, Iris blows through the door, heading toward the stairs until Pam rises to her feet and demands, “Were you having an affair with John?”

Oh shit. Iris skids to a stop, glancing between the cop and her mom before her face twists into a bitter smile. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Did you have sexual relations with my husband?” Pam asks shrilly, and the officer clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

Iris’ eyes flash, her mouth trembling at the corners, and she says softly, “Is that what he told you? Is it consensual when you’re fourteen, Mom?”

Pam’s expression drops, and she covers her face with her hands. Iris raises devastated eyes to me before exiting the way she came and slamming back out the front door.

Stunned, I stare at the door, wondering what the fuck just happened. How did Pam know? What’s this mean for us? For her?

---