Chapter 4
1611 Words
~ Becca ~
The closer we got to my street, the harder my stomach twisted. It wasn’t nerves. It wasn’t fear. It was that sick, heavy tension that comes right before you walk into a room full of people who think they know you better than you know yourself.
Jace slowed near the corner, and I could already see my house at the end of the road white paint peeling, the porch light still on even though it was daytime, Mom’s hanging plant sagging like it gave up on life. Same as always.
Nothing had changed except me.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Jace asked quietly. He wasn’t teasing this time. His eyes flicked toward me, sharp and serious.
I nodded. “If I don’t go home today, they’ll hunt me down tomorrow.”
He huffed. “Yeah. Our families love drama like oxygen.”
“That’s an understatement.”
He pulled into my driveway like he’d done it a hundred times. Maybe he had. Growing up, our families were in and out of each other’s houses constantly barbecues, birthdays, the annoying neighborhood block parties Dad forced us to go to. Back then, I thought all that closeness meant something. Now it just felt suffocating.
Before I could grab my bag, the front door swung open.
Nate came out first. My brother, tall and broad like he was born to fight someone. He spotted the truck, spotted me, then his eyebrows shot up like rockets.
“You’re with him?” he said, pointing straight at Jace.
I sighed. “Good morning to you too.”
Jace opened his door. “Relax, Nate. I’m not dropping off a ransom note.”
Nate made a face like he wasn’t sure whether to punch him or hug me. “You alright?” he asked, eyes sweeping over me like I was a wounded animal.
“I’m fine,” I said. Again. I needed to tattoo that phrase on my forehead at this point.
He stepped forward and hugged me without asking. His arms squeezed tight, and for a second, the pressure almost cracked the wall in my chest.
When he pulled back, he shot Jace a look. “You didn’t pull anything, right?”
Jace smirked. “If I tried, she’d bite me.”
Nate blinked. “Yeah… true.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can we go inside before the whole neighborhood stares?”
Nate took my backpack. Jace grabbed my suitcase like it weighed two feathers, because apparently he needed to show off.
Inside, the house smelled like fried onions and cleaning spray. The living room looked the same brown couch, old rug, Dad’s recliner he refused to replace even though the leather was peeling like sunburn.
Mom stood near the kitchen doorway, her face tight and worried. When she saw me, her shoulders dropped like she’d been holding her breath all night.
“Oh, Rebecca,” she said, rushing forward.
I braced.
She hugged me hard, soft hands smoothing my hair like I was five again.
“You scared us,” she whispered. “You didn’t answer any of my messages.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said, pulling back. “He hurt you. That boy”
“Don’t,” I cut in gently. “Please. Not yet.”
She nodded, lips pressed tight.
Behind her, Dad stepped out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark, the way they got when he was two seconds from exploding.
“You wanna tell me why my daughter slept in a motel last night?” he said.
Here we go.
“It wasn’t safe for me to stay here,” I said calmly.
“Because of him?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t think to come to us? We could’ve”
“Dad,” I said softly, “I didn’t want to be in this house. Not with everyone talking about it. Not with Aunt Denise and them storming in like they own the place.”
His nostrils flared. “They came here?”
Mom winced. “Just for a minute.”
“They came here,” he repeated, voice sharpening.
“Dad, stop,” I said. “I’m home now.”
He exhaled slowly, the anger cooling but not gone. It lived deep in him the kind he never showed until he had to.
Nate cleared his throat. “Uh… Jace brought her home.”
Dad finally noticed him.
That was fun.
“You.”
And a whole lifetime of father-to-father rivalry laced that one word.
Jace lifted one hand in a lazy half-wave. “Mr. Snow.”
“You’re not involved in this,” Dad said.
“Nope. Just giving her a ride.”
“Good,” Dad snapped.
I stepped between them before this turned into some macho territory war. “Dad, stop intimidating him. He didn’t do anything.”
Jace smirked behind me. Nate elbowed him.
Good.
Dad glared another second before stepping back. “Fine. Thank you for bringing her.”
Jace shrugged. “Anytime.”
He glanced at me, something unreadable flickering through his eyes. “Call me if you need anything.”
I nodded. “I will.”
He left without another word.
The moment the door shut, Dad sighed like the entire Stephen-and-Brielle disaster had landed on his spine.
“Sit,” Mom said, guiding me toward the couch like I was going to collapse. “Please. Just sit.”
I did.
Nate sat on the arm of the chair, arms crossed. Dad stood like he couldn’t sit still.
Mom perched beside me. “Becca… sweetheart… what exactly happened?”
I stared at the floor.
How do you tell your parents their nephew-by-marriage-to-be was sleeping with their niece?
“It was Brielle,” I finally said. “It’s been her. For months.”
Mom covered her mouth. Nate cursed under his breath. Dad paced.
“They were together,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “And I walked in on it.”
Silence cracked through the room like a dropped plate.
Dad turned red. “I’m going to kill that boy.”
“No,” I said quickly. “No one’s killing anyone.”
“You think I’m joking?” he said. “He disrespected my daughter in my house? He betrayed this entire family”
“Dad,” I snapped. “Listen.”
He stopped.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t want him dead. I don’t want revenge in that way. I just… want my life back. I want to be done with him.”
Mom rubbed my arm. “You’re not going back to him. Not after this.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I swear.”
Dad shook his head. “His parents should’ve raised him better.”
“Oh trust me,” Nate muttered, “they didn’t.”
I sighed. “Can we not talk about them? Just for today?”
Mom nodded and stood. “I made lunch. Let me heat something up.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She gave me a look. I shut up.
Nate walked over when she left and nudged my knee. “I’m proud of you, you know.”
“For what? Running?”
“For leaving,” he said softly. “Most people would’ve let him explain. You didn’t.”
“Because there was nothing to explain.”
He nodded. “Still proud.”
Dad hovered near the window like a guard dog.
“I’m gonna get some water,” I said, needing a reason to stand before the suffocation swallowed me.
In the kitchen, I placed my hands on the counter and inhaled. The room felt smaller, heavier, cluttered with old memories. This was supposed to be home… but it didn’t feel like mine anymore.
My phone buzzed again.
Stephen.
I deleted the call attempt without opening it.
Another message came through instantly:
Stephen: Babe, please talk to me.
I blocked his number.
Five seconds later, he texted from another one.
Stephen: I’m coming over.
I froze.
My chest tightened in that old familiar way the fear, the pressure, the feeling of being trapped by someone who loved control more than he loved me.
I stepped back into the hallway. “Dad?”
He looked up.
“What now?”
“He said he’s coming here.”
Dad’s entire face changed.
“Let him come,” he said quietly. “I’ve been waiting.”
Mom gasped. “David ”
“No,” he said, voice low. “He steps on my property, he’s going to understand something very clearly.”
Nate stood. “I’ll handle him.”
“No,” Dad said. “I will.”
I hated how much relief I felt.
Mom came over and cupped my face. “You stay inside. Don’t go out there.”
I nodded.
But deep down, something else flickered not fear, not panic.
Control.
For the first time since last night…
I had it.
Stephen wasn’t coming here to fix things.
He was coming because he’d lost his grip on me.
And he had no idea that he wasn’t getting it back.
Not now.
Not ever.
And definitely not with the plan that was already forming in the back of my mind the plan involving someone whose eyes watched everything, whose smirk cut deeper than Stephen’s apologies ever could.
Jace.
This was the beginning of something else.
Something dangerous.
Something satisfying.
Something I wasn’t ready to say out loud yet.
But when Stephen’s car pulled into the driveway minutes later…
- Writer
