THAT FIRST BREAK (Broken Redemption Prequel 1)

Chapter 6

Emilia

Forty-five minutes. That's how long we waited in the car before my mother finally pulled into our driveway. Elegant as ever, with not a hair out of place, she gracefully exits her car before shooting a scowl in our direction. What she's angry at is anyone's guess. Never mind that we're the ones put out by her tardiness. Especially since she's who insisted that for appearance's sake, we walk into the Holt's BBQ together, as a family. Yet if her face is anything to go by, she'd rather be going to this thing with anyone but us.

Looking over at Dad, I notice his usual jovial smile is strained and there's tension hidden behind his eyes. It's obvious he's not happy with her either, but as usual, he's refusing to talk about it. Well, aside from reminding me she's my mother and his wife. Like that justifies why we're constantly giving in to her whims when she does nothing for the family unit she's so desperate to show off today.

I hated how sad he looked when he reminded me of her position in our family. It was a look of utter defeat and it only stoked the anger I feel toward the woman who birthed me. Not that I have the nerve to say anything to her about it, either. In that, I'm much like my father. My aversion to conflict, in addition to mom's ability to cut me down to nothing with only her words, is enough to keep me from wanting to upset her.

"You were supposed to wash the car," she chastises. "Now we look like a bunch of vagrants."

"Sorry, dear. It was a busy week." His tone is apologetic, but I don't miss how he swallows back what he really wants to say.

My muscles tense when she pulls down the visor to open the mirror. As I thought, her piercing gaze comes straight to me.

"Why would you wear that mess down without straightening it? And in this June humidity?" she leans down and reaches into her purse. "Swear to God, I've no idea where you came from. If I hadn't been there myself, I wouldn't believe you were mine." Reaching back, she hands me a black hair tie. "Here, pull that frizzy mop out of your face."

Without question, I do as she asks, schooling my features so she doesn't see how much her words hurt. I worked for over an hour and a half to tame my wavy hair into perfect curls. Separating the thick strands into small sections so I could pull the curling iron through them, just like she taught me. I'm such a fool. I wish I knew how to shut off that naïve part of me that yearns for her approval.

By the time we pull up to the Holt's, I've tuned my parents out entirely. That silent thread that connects Lucas and me sparks to life, pulling my attention to where he sits on the steps of his front porch. He's leaning forward on his elbows, looking downright mad, which sets me on edge. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen Lucas angry, and each of those times it had to do with football and the team. It's summer, so this can't be about that, as there's still another month before the season starts.

Unable to help myself, I take off my seatbelt in a rush, knowing I have to get to him to see what is wrong.

"Stop." Her one-word demand leaves no room for negotiation. "Don't you dare get out of this car to go chasing after that boy. You need to help your father. I'll go in first to let them know we're here."

After that, she gets out of the car. Through the rearview mirror, Dad sends me a silent apology, before he too steps out of the car. By the time I've rounded the trunk to take the dishes Dad is handing me, Lucas is at my side offering to help carry things as well. The frenetic energy coming off of him is unnerving, and though he hasn't said a word, it feels like his anger is directed at me.

The moment I set the dishes in the large kitchen, he takes my hand and yanks me away from the crowd and up the stairs to his room. The move has me speechless, as this looks to be another first for us. Never has he treated me this way. Angry. Almost possessive. Like he has every right to me, even above my mother, who he blatantly ignored as she protested my departure.