Free Untouched: a Cedar Cove Novella by Melody Grace Page B

sounds great.”
    I take the turn out to
my house, trying to ignore the other stuff my sister said about
Juliet.
    She’s a summer
girl. That means she’s leaving.
    Maybe we could be
different, I argue with myself, silent as Juliet hums along with the
radio. Maybe we could be long-distance, while she’s still in
school, and then…
    Then what? A
cruel voice mocks. You’ve known this girl ten days. You think
she’s going to give up her future, after just a few kisses?
    For someone like
you?
    I tense. Today was like
a perfect bubble, where the real world didn’t exist, but now,
driving down the same old streets in the same old town, reality comes
crashing back with all its doubts and cruel whispers.
    “You OK?”
    I turn. Juliet is
looking at me, her forehead creased in a frown.
    “Fine.” I lie.
“Great. Just wondering if we’ve got any groceries in the house.”
    “We’ll manage
something.” She beams at me, happiness radiating from her whole
body. I want to bottle it, drink it down, anything to stop my doubts
raging to the surface and ruining this day.
    But when I turn down my
driveway and see a beat up old Nissan slung, doors open, in front of
the house, I know, the day is already ruined.
    “Stay in the truck,”
I growl at Juliet.
    “Why? What’s going
on?”
    I reply, I just
scramble down from the cab and charge across the front lawn.
    The front door is wide
open. I stride into the house, fists already clenched at my sides.
And there he is: Artie Keller, the low life piece of junkie trash.
The man who got my mom hooked into all this misery in the first
place. He’s got his back turned to me, trying to lift our
shitty-ass excuse for a TV from the console.
    I cross the distance
between us in a few short strides and smash his face with a hard
right hook. He reels back, blood spurting from his nose. “What the
fuck are you doing in my house?!” I roar.
    I grab him by the
throat, shoving him up against the wall. Artie gasps for air, his
beady eyes bugging out of his head. “Well?” I yell, shoving him
back again. His skull bounces against the plyboard, and I hear the
crack with grim satisfaction. Blood is pounding in my ears, and all I
can think is how much pain this sniveling excuse for a man has caused
this family, how easy it would be to end him for good.
    “Stop!”
    I hear a yell behind
me, but I don’t turn. I slam Artie against the wall again, watching
the blood gush down his face. When I was younger, he seemed so big,
but now he’s nothing in my grip, skin and bones.
    “Emerson, stop!”
There’s a hand on my arm, pulling me away. I finally drop Artie and
he crumples to the ground.
    I turn, breathing hard,
expecting Brit or Juliet.
    But it’s my mom.
Tired, and strung out, eyes wide with horror.
    She lets out a sob, and
pushes past me, going down on her knees by Artie’s bloody body.
“What did you do?” she cries.
    “What…?” I’m
reeling. “What are you talking about? Mom, he was stealing our
stuff! Why did you even let him in?” My rage flares brighter. “Did
he hurt you?” I demand. “Are you OK?”
    She ignores me and
fusses over him, whimpering apologies. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so
so sorry.”
    Artie groans, still
conscious. She helps him to his feet.
    That’s when I see the
duffel bag by the door. The box filled with photo frames and junk.
    I stumble back. The
truth is so clear, I should have seen it coming. I’m so fucking
stupid.
    “You’re leaving.”
I say, voice thick with disgust. I stare between them: mom, looking
away from me, ashamed and broken. And Artie, sneering. Smug.
    “Sorry, kid,” he
drawls. “Guess she couldn’t stay away from me.”
    Fury blazes again, and
I move to smash his face in. Mom blocks me, hands to my chest,
pushing me back.
    “Please, baby, no!”
she cries. “Don’t be like this!”
    “How the fuck else am
I supposed to be?” I yell, powerless and hating it. I can’t
believe she’s defending him, this worthless piece of