Page 6 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
I recognize his voice instantly.
Kane.
The man with him lets out a cruel laugh. “You’re not sorry.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“But you will be.”
Maybe I should pretend nothing’s wrong, mind my business for once, but the noise that follows seals the deal. What sounds like a hard slap makes my blood run cold.
Then I hear a loud thud.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”
I have no control over my body as I creep down the hall, my pulse wilding out in my neck. I realize I’m holding my breath when the scene comes into view.
Kane.
On the ground in the middle of the sunroom.
Holding his jaw.
His dad is towering over him. I can only see Mr. Wilder’s back from where I am, but I have no doubt his face reflects the hatred in his voice.
“I said fucking look at me!” Mr. Wilder seethes, picking his son off the floor so violently he rips the fabric of Kane’s collar in the process.
I can feel my heart disintegrating in my chest, the broken pieces turning to dust when I see Kane’s busted lip, the absence of emotions in his eyes, and the small cut on his cheek.
He looks so empty.
He seems determined not to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him break.
Is that why he’s been acting so different lately?
Oh my God.
The reason why he seems dead inside is because… he is.
Mr. Wilder uses the grip he has on his son’s clothes to jerk him closer. “Do you seriously think this family got to where it is today by singing? Take a fucking look around, kid. We wouldn’t have this life if we’d wasted our time on nonsense. I won’t have my son humiliate me like this.”
Kane doesn’t make a sound, glassy eyes pointed at his father. It’s clear he’s been here before. He’s used to it by now.
Do I intervene?
Do I go get someone?
Maybe Mr. Wilder will stop if he sees he has a witness.
The monster’s grip is so tight Kane’s feet rise off the ground. “Music won’t get you anywhere in life. And your ancestors didn’t bust their fucking asses so you could become a starving artist.”
My heart racing, I move closer, stepping from the shadows. My body weight causes the floor beneath me to creak, and thankfully, Mr. Wilder doesn’t notice.
Kane, however…
The air stalls in my lungs the moment his gaze captures mine.
He’s still a prisoner of his father’s rage, but life spills back into his gaze when he spots me standing in the doorway. He goes from emotionless to scared in a single second.