Avenging the angel

2

But I had no choice. I couldn’t keep waiting for the day he’d finally snap and do something I couldn’t walk away from. It wasn’t like anyone else in the house was going to say something. They were too scared—or too resigned.

I glance up again, unable to help myself, and my stomach drops when his gaze locks onto mine. My heart pounds as his expression shifts from surprise to something darker. A smirk curls at the edge of his mouth, and I feel the booth walls closing in around me.

I need to get out of here. Now.

Tess must notice something’s wrong because she calls out, “Emma? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, my voice shaky as I grab my books and shove them into my bag. My hands are trembling, but I force myself to keep moving. I can’t let him see me scared—not again. I won’t give him that satisfaction.

The diner suddenly feels too small, too exposed. I hear his boots against the tile floor as he walks toward me, each step like a countdown. My instincts scream at me to run, but I can’t make a scene here. Not with Tess watching, not with the other customers still finishing their meals.

“Emma,” he drawls, his voice like sandpaper on my nerves. “Long time no see.”

I freeze mid-motion, gripping the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles turn white.

“What are you doing here, Charlie?” I manage to ask, my voice sharp despite the fear coiling in my stomach.

He chuckles, low and smug, like he’s enjoying this. “Is that any way to greet your old man?”

“You’re not my anything,” I snap, standing up and slinging my bag over my shoulder. “So if you’ll excuse me, my shift’s over.”

I try to walk past him, but he sidesteps into my path, blocking me. The smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne hits me, and I feel like I’m sixteen again, trapped and helpless.

“Not so fast,” he says, his voice dropping. “We’ve got some catching up to do, don’t you think?”

I glance toward the counter, where Tess is wiping it down. Her back is to us, and I silently will her to turn around, to notice something’s wrong. But she doesn’t.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I reply, trying to step around him again.

His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm. His grip is firm, too firm, and I have to swallow the panic rising in my throat.

“You’re not walking away from me, kid,” he mutters, his voice low enough that no one else can hear.

My mind races, searching for an out. I could yell, make a scene, but the thought of everyone staring at me, of Tess finding out who this man is, stops me.

“You don’t want to do this here,” I warn, keeping my voice steady even though my pulse is racing.

For a moment, he looks at me, really looks at me, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. Then, to my surprise, he lets go.

“Fine,” he says, stepping back. “I’ll see you around, kid.”

The way he says it sends a chill down my spine. It’s not a threat, not exactly, but it’s a promise. He’s not done with me—not by a long shot.

I don’t wait for him to leave. I grab my coat from the rack and head straight for the back door, ignoring Tess’s concerned voice calling after me. Once I’m outside, the cold air hits me, but it’s not enough to calm the shaking in my hands.

I pull out my phone and stare at it, debating. Pam and Hank are probably watching TV right now, oblivious to the fact that the man who made my life a living hell is free—and that he’s found me.

I could call them, let them know what’s happening. But I can already hear Hank’s voice, full of worry, telling me to come home right away. And the last thing I want is to drag them into this mess.

Instead, I take a deep breath and start walking. Away from the diner, away from Charlie, and away from everything he represents.

But I can’t escape the feeling that no matter how far I go, he’ll always be one step behind me.