Page 77 of Unraveling with You
Dad’s eyes have never been wider. But he furrows his brow with a light chuckle, his forearm tense in Remington’s grasp. “What’s going on here?”
Remington hums, but it’s not a kind hum. My teeth clench as he steps closer, lowering his voice. “I had the unfortunate experience of discovering just how strong your grip is,Joe.”
Dad blinks a few times, and I shuffle in place. I don’t know how to exist in a world where he’s facing the consequences of what he does to me, and it terrifies me. A frantic urge tells me I should run and hide, petrified he’ll turn to take his frustrations out on me again - blame this all on me, somehow, but even worse. Deep down, keeping Dad’s secrets has always been more than not wanting to hurt Mom; I’ve been afraid to discover what happens when I find out I’m not worth protecting to Mom either.
Just like poor Remington experienced when his family kept Ernesto around.
But Dad sputters, fear blanching his cheeks. “I-I don’t– I don’t know what you–”
“You don’t remember the clear finger silhouettes you left me to find on my girlfriend’s arm?”
Dad pales. Then his eyebrows warp in sorrow. He turns to me, opening his mouth with a sharp inhale, but Remington hums.
“No, don’t look at her to bail you out of this. There’s no fucking reason in the world to lay a finger on this literal angel on your doorstep. You’re lucky she stuck around at all, especially after that scar you left on her back.”
Dad winces, and my heart beats wildly into my throat. I’ve never seen him look so guilty.
But Remington’s jaw only clenches harder. “I’m only going to make this clear once: you’re never laying another fucking hand on your daughter again, you hear me?”
My head spins, terrified of what Dad might say. But most shocking of all, I’m the most afraid of how awful Dad must feel. Even though he hurt me, I don’t want to hurt him.
But Dad shuts his mouth with a meek, “I’m so sorry.”
My squeeze on Remington’s hand softens his set jaw. The second he lets Dad go, Dad races back into the house, dashing past Mom as she slowly wheels herself down the hall.
I’m numb with fear. Did she hear any of that?
She blinks a few times, turning her head the best she can to call after him. “Honey, where are you going? Is everything okay?”
Dad doesn’t answer, slamming his bedroom door with abang.
Mom furrows her brows, looking between Remington and me as I remain dazed in her doorway. “Lilibeth, are you alright?”
Remington tenses. “Sorry, I–”
I release a slow, shaky exhale. “No, I– Yes. I’m–” The more I breathe, the lighter I feel. I’m not alone. I let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I-I’m good. Really good.”
“Thank goodness.” Mom beams, clasping her hands together at her chest. “Oh, it’s so good to meet you, Remington! Lilibeth hasn’t brought a boy home since high school.”
I peek at Remington with a giggle, but as we meet eyes, I find a hint of agonized sadness behind his dark irises.
He gives Mom his half-up smile. “That’s quite the compliment. Your daughter is the sweetest woman on the planet.”
Having Remington here makes it real for me - how fake these pleasantries feel, leaving me to wait for the inevitable storm. And now that I’m not left to face it alone, it’s sinking in how disastrous this has all been. I have to live my whole life with Dad’s scar on my back, yet I’mstillkeeping it hidden for him; even though Dad knows his secret has been exposed to Remington, it’s kept safe from his wife.
We shuffle inside, and I wheel Mom down the hall. As Mom chats with us, Remington releases a slow exhale beside me. We meet eyes. The pain behind his harrowed stare shocks my heart into restarting. I lean into his touch as he smooths his hand over my back, but as the ache in my heart only grows, Remington’s eyebrows arch to match my expression.
Heat stings my eyes. This has nothing to do with him, but he’s visibly aching like his heart was the one my dad hurt. He understands.
“My hero,” I breathe out an almost inaudible whisper.
He softly smiles, mouthing, “I love you.”
But as we settle onto the living room couch, facing Mom’s smile, dark thoughts consume my focus. Can I really do this? Ruin Mom’s sense of peace with what I’ve been through? I swallow hard through the sudden onslaught of emotions crushing my chest. Remington stiffens beside me, his eyebrows knitted, but Mom speaks up first.
“Lilibeth, something is wrong today.” She’s speaking low enough to capture my focus; her tone is specifically low enough to keep our conversation from Dad behind his closed door.
She’s right. Something is wrong. The dam I’ve built around my secret has broken, spilling out like hot oil scalding my heart.
