Free Can't Slow Down by Lizzie Hart Stevens

Something seriously messed up is going on here.
    “I’m sorry, Lex. I just don’t want anything to happen to you again.” My voice is quieter this time. “Stay close to me. This won’t take long.”
    She nods in agreement and with her gripping my hand tight, we head inside.

 
     
     
    I HAVE A DEATH grip on Coen’s hand, though I’m not sure if it’s because I’m scared, nervous, pissed off, or all of the above. It’s most likely the latter. The slight nerves I had about meeting his aunt are now overpowered by anger, anxiety, and wondering why Patrick’s car is here. Did he come here looking for me? How did he know we would be here? We’re just about to approach his aunt at the door when it dawns on me. Patrick must be the person she wanted Coen to meet. But why?
    I squeeze Coen a little tighter and he brushes his thumb against the back of my hand to try to comfort me as we make our way up the porch steps.
    “Hello, Coen dear.” She smiles, not seeming as horrible as I expected her to be. “And Lexi, is it? It’s nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to greet me.
    Before she even stops shaking my hand Coen pulls me closer to him.
    “Coen!” his aunt and I say in unison.
    “Where is he and what the hell is he doing here?” he grits through his teeth.
    Sarah’s brow furrows and she tilts her head, looking at Coen like he’s completely insane.
    “That’s no attitude to have to meet your long-lost cousin, now is it?”
    My jaw drops and Coen’s eyes about bug out of his head as we carefully follow her inside. Sitting there on the couch is Patrick. He jumps to his feet right away; his cold, gray eyes feel like they are burning a hole right through me. The expression on his face is eerily similar to that of the Joker’s: a huge fake smile hiding pure evil.
    “Have you completely lost your fucking mind?” Coen bellows.
    “Watch your language in my house,” Sarah orders. “This is Patrick, my son.”
    “Your son? YOUR SON?” Coen lets go of my hand and paces the floor a few times before stopping in front of his aunt and running his hands through his hair. “Please explain to me how this useless, fucked up, piece-of-shit, sorry excuse for a man is your son.”
    I cross my arms and back myself up against the wall closest to the door in case I need to make a quick escape. The tension in this room is palpable. Patrick doesn’t dare move from the spot he’s standing in. I’m willing to bet he knows that if he so much as breathes too close to me Coen will rip his throat out.
    Sarah takes a step toward Coen and he sticks his hand out for her to not get any closer. He’s pissed off and confused. She walks over closer to Patrick and places her arm around his shoulder.
    “When I was fifteen, I was madly in love with a boy who was about to head off to college. At least, I thought it was love at the time. Anyways, to make a long story short, I became pregnant. Since he was leaving for medical school, and I was so young, I decided it was best to put the baby up for adoption. That baby was Patrick, Coen. I’ve been in touch with the adoption agency over the last few months. Last week they called and said they had found him, he lived close by, and was interested in meeting me, too. I don’t understand why this is upsetting you so much. Do you two know each other already?” She looks back and forth between Coen and Patrick waiting for one of them to answer.
    “Yeah, Coen, what’s wrong?” Patrick taunts with a Cheshire grin.
    Coen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck from side to side. When he opens his eyes he looks over at me and subtly shakes his head while clinching his fists at his sides. He’s trying so hard to not fly off the handle right now. He grits his teeth and looks Patrick straight in the eyes.
    “Why don’t you tell her how fucking special her new son is, Patrick? ” he says, pointing at his eye that is still slightly