Summer (Four Seasons #2) by Frankie Rose Read Free Book Online Page A

bracing for it. For the pain and humiliation to begin.
    “THREE!” my father shouts.  
    I scream, my throat burning as the wardrobe doors fly open, and then there he is, my father, standing there, his shoulders hitching up and down way too fast as he glares at me, panting.

SEVEN

    LUKE

    I sit bolt upright, the bed sheets wrapped around my body, hyperventilating like I’ve just sprinted a goddamn marathon. The dream was so fucking real. I run my hands over my skin, grateful my fingers touch a man’s chest and not a boy’s. No one can hurt me like that anymore. No one can treat me that way. Not without me beating the ever-loving shit out of them, anyway. I move to the edge of the bed, kicking out of the sheets, fighting to calm my heart rate.  
    When ? When the fuck will this end? I blow out a deep breath, shaking my head. Back when I was a kid, I assumed this was normal. I knew I didn’t fucking like it, but I thought it was just something I had to deal with. That all the other kids at school were going through the same things. That their dads were alcoholic perverts, too.  
    As a cop, I saw plenty of abuse in New York. The fathers of those children always had the same violent, angry streak in them that mine did. But still…a kid of eight years old? Five? Even younger? How does a grown man end up doing things like that? It twists my stomach just thinking about it. Fuck. I should be back on the east coast doing my job, doing something to stop the monsters and the demons from destroying their own children.  
    The amount of times I’ve come close to taking matters into my own hands, though…
    How easy would it be to slip back to an apartment after night falls to put a bullet in the back of someone’s head? How easy would it be to dump their bodies in the Hudson and never think about them again?
    The answer to those questions is scary, because it is this: all too easy.  
    And Max did it. Max did it for me. When Avery’s dad discovered what my father was doing to me, he flipped. He told me he would fix things—that he would make sure I never had to deal with my dad’s unwanted attentions again.  
    The next day, my father was dead, and I was free. I cried for days, the relief too much to bear. No one ever knew. No one ever suspected a thing. Misfiring rifles are a common occurrence at the best of times, and during hunting season in Wyoming, there are always one or two accidents. Max shot him with his own rifle in the face, and then left him there in the woods to rot. When his body was discovered the next day, whispers traveled quickly across Breakwater. They weren’t whispers of murder, though. They were whispers of suicide. My father was not a well-liked man; no one cared enough to dig too deeply into what took place out there.  
    After I told Avery what Max did for me back in the hospital all those weeks ago, we didn’t discuss it again. She was still too traumatized by what had happened with Chloe. It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t need to talk with her about it. I was scared to.
    Now, I’d give anything to say more than two words to Avery. It’s been a month since I’ve heard her voice, and I swear I’m fucking rotting from the inside out. All those years wanting to be near her, needing to make her mine, were torture. They were torture and yet I managed to survive them. I could handle seeing her and letting her go because I hadn’t overstepped the line. I hadn’t reached out and pulled her close, breathed her in, tasted her lips, sunk deep into her body.  
    I hadn’t known true happiness back then. Now that I have, I’m pretty sure I’m never going to experience it again.

    ******

    I arrive at Cole’s place around ten, which happens to be an hour late. The guys are in a crappy mood. While I’m usually okay with putting up with everyone’s shit, today isn’t one of those days. I pour myself a cup of coffee and run my fingers through my wet hair, trying like hell to shake off the remnants