Free Can't Slow Down by Lizzie Hart Stevens Page A

bruised.
    Sarah huffs, “You can’t possibly be serious, Coen. Patrick wouldn’t hurt a soul. Would you, Patrick?”
    I see he’s already pulled the wool over her eyes.
    Just you wait, lady, the real asshole will show himself soon enough, I’m sure.
    “He’s my ex-boyfriend,” I pipe up from my safe spot near the door.
    “I’m dead fucking serious, and this, ” he says and points to his eye again, “isn’t even half as bad as what this loser has put Lexi through.”
    He turns to me and starts to walk towards the door.
    “Come on, Lexi, let’s get out of here.”
    “Coen, stop right there,” Sarah insists. “I demand an explanation right now. You are being extremely disrespectful and rude in my home and I won’t stand for it.”
    “Me? I’m disrespectful? I’m rude?” he scoffs. “Your perfect son here gets his fucking rocks off on belittling women to make himself feel better about his pathetic little life. But that’s not all—his most recent favorite thing to do is kidnap them on their way home from work, tie them up and gag them in a cold, damp, abandoned warehouse and smack them around, all while being drunk off his ass. Yeah, real fucking prize son you have there, Aunt Sarah.”
    Patrick is laughing like he’s gone completely mental.
    “Don’t you know, Coen? Your slutty little girlfriend here likes being tied up and told what to do.”
    I suddenly feel nauseous. Just as I’m about to bolt out the door, Coen turns around, grabs Patrick by the throat, and slams him into the wall. The sound of glass breaking fills the room as a few picture frames and knickknacks come crashing down. Sarah and I both shout Coen’s name in sync, but he ignores us. His face is so close to Patrick’s that their noses are almost touching. Patrick sneers, still pinned to the wall by Coen’s tightening grip on his throat. He could easily snap his neck right now if he wanted to.
    “Coen! Let him go this instant!” Sarah shrieks.
    He doesn’t flinch. I can see his shoulders rise and fall from his heavy breathing across the room. I’m surprised he hasn’t put his fist through Patrick’s face yet.
    “Lexi, go start the car.” Coen snaps his head around to look at me. His green eyes are now cold and hard and the prominent vein in his arm is pulsing. He’s angry and I’m scared, but I don’t want to leave him in here alone. I feel like I’m frozen in time and everything around me is moving in slow motion, but there’s nothing I can do to fix this. Any of it. “NOW,” he demands, nostrils flaring.
    “Don’t do anything stu—”
    “Damn it, Lex, PLEASE. GO. NOW.” He tosses me the keys to his Hellcat.
    As the door is closing behind me, I hear what I’m pretty sure are Coen’s knuckles cracking against Patrick’s face and more shouting from all three of them. I run out to that beautiful blue beast, hop into the passenger seat, and start the car. The engine roars to life and vibrates through my entire body. I roll the windows down and start to sift through my bag to find my phone when the car door is jerked open. Coen starts to slide in beside me. He’s holding his left hand close to his chest and his mouth is bloody.
    “You drive,” he pants.
    “Coen, I—”
    Sarah runs out onto the porch and yells at the top of her lungs.
    “You aren’t welcome here anymore. I want nothing to do with you. I never wanted anything to do with you. It’s your fault my sister is dead! They couldn’t wait until morning to see their precious, pathetic little boy. If they had just gone home and picked you up the next morning like they had originally planned, they would still be here and my life wouldn’t have been ruined having to raise you. I did it for her, Coen. I never gave a shit about you.”
    “Don’t worry,” Coen shouts back. “I never gave a shit about you either. Don’t come crying to me when your son shows you his true colors.”
    “Get off of my property. I don’t ever want to see you