Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 37: Carter

Henry Williams' voice booms as he demands information from the night nurse. "Where is she? Is she alive? How could you let this happen?" All of the questions hold an air of accusation, like it is the nurse's fault that his daughter ended up in the hospital.

If anything, it's Henry's fault Emma is in here.

I should be the bigger person. I should walk away. Her father still hasn't noticed me. My clenched fists shake at my sides, and I'm not sure what I'm capable of in this moment.

Henry's face grows so red as he continues to spew malicious questions that the color of his skin dips into shades of purple. His left eye twitches, and if I didn't know what kind of person he could be, I would suspect something medically wrong with him. But the tension he carries is coiled tight, wrapped through each bulging vein and waiting for an excuse—any excuse—to strike.

I probably should not be that excuse, but I want to tell him exactly where he should shove his mock concern.

Mrs. Williams catches me staring at them from my spot a few feet away. She pulls on Henry's jacket, but he shrugs her off. She glares at him from behind his back and steps toward me. Her high heels echo hollowly off the hospital floor.

"Are you him?"

She says 'him' like I have somehow ruined her daughter, like I caused this whole mess. I am already full of enough guilt to last a lifetime, because Emma would have been closer to the hospital had it not been for me. But I didn't cause this. I didn't do anything wrong. Maybe my family has, but I haven't.

I am not the history that other people have bestowed upon me. I am not my father, I am not a tragedy, and I am not trouble.

"Yes," I growl the word at her, anger bubbling to the surface without my permission. My eyes flick to Henry's back. "But you know it wasn't me who caused this."

Her eyes narrow, and she runs her tongue along her teeth, as if mixing together my words in her mouth. "You made her stray from her path. That is your fault."

"I made her or you've been forcing her into being someone she isn't?" I flex my fingers, slowly unfurling them and curling them back in again. My hands are full of energy. My nails bite into my palms, and my heart slams against my chest. Despite the edginess, I stand tall. I won't be intimidated by these people that drove Emma away.

"How dare you. Who do you think you are? We know our daughter. We know what's best for her."

"Do you see where she is right now?" I gesture to the double emergency room doors. "This is on you. On him." I cut my glance over at Henry again, and I see his ears visibly prick. A hollow feeling stretches out inside me, running up the base on my spine and settling into my neck.

"Hold on a second." He puts his hand up to the night nurse and turns toward me. His nostrils flare wide. His eyes are wild, red, like someone who has been hitting the bottle a little too hard. And it suddenly falls into place, snaps into a full picture. Henry Williams has one too many secrets he's trying to hide.

"Who are you?" Henry asks, but he doesn't wait for a response before closing the gap between us. "I'll tell you. You are nothing. Inconsequential. A blip on the otherwise perfect record of our daughter."

"Perfect record." I nod, as if understanding. "Just like the bruises on her skin? They don't seem to mix with the perfection you're talking about."

"Bruises?" Mrs. Williams pipes up.

If it were possible for Henry's skin to get darker, it does. "You know nothing about our family." His voice is low, trembling with warning.

Thing is, I've been scared of turning out like my dad my entire life. I've been too scared to live, too scared of dying young. And this is exactly why Henry Williams does not scare me.