Holidays and Handcuffs (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 7

Emily

It’s a miracle I can still walk. Jack fucked me six ways to Sunday, and made me come more times than I can count. This is, without a doubt, my best Christmas ever.

And yet, here we are, standing on the doorstep of my parents’ house, and I wish with every fiber of my being that we didn’t have to be here.

I really don’t want to do this. I’d much rather be back in Jack’s arms, wrapped up in his warmth, instead of facing my parents and their inevitable judgment. But if I skip this dinner, I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Are you going to knock?” Jack asks sensing my hesitation. I suck in a sharp breath, exhale harshly before lifting my hand to the door.

The door swings open, and the moment my mother’s eyes land on Jack, her face twists into an expression of pure displeasure.

“Emily,” she says coldly, her gaze narrowing on Jack. “What are you doing with him and why is he here?”

Before I can respond, Jack takes a polite step forward. “Good evening, Mrs. Carter.”

“What are you doing in my home?!”

“Mom, Jack is my guest, can we please come in? It’s freezing out here.” I look between the two of them wondering what’s going on, but Jack’s expression is unreadable, and Mom looks like she’s about to murder him.

She reluctantly steps out of the way, and almost immediately as we step inside, my father emerges from the dining room. His eyes lock onto Jack, and his expression hardens.

“What the hell are you doing in my home?” he barks at Jack.

What the hell is happening right now? “Can anyone tell me what’s going on? I called and asked if I could bring a guest,” I respond, confused, “and you said yes."

“I did,” my father says, his tone icy. “But not him.”

I glance at Jack, searching for any sign of what might be going on, but his expression is unreadable. My confusion deepens. What is going on?

Before I can get another word out, Billy steps into the room, his face instantly twisting into fury the moment he sees Jack. “What the hell is this? Why is he here?” His voice is thick with anger.

I feel myself stiffen. “I brought Jack because he’s my—”

“Because he’s your what? Boyfriend?” Billy spits, glaring at Jack like he’s ready to lunge at him.

But before I can say anything, Jack steps forward, his voice calm but commanding. “Watch how you talk to her.”

Billy opens his mouth, ready to argue, but Jack cuts him off. “You’ve got something to say, you say it to me, but don’t you dare disrespect her.”

The room goes silent. My mother folds her arms, glaring at Jack with the same intensity as my father. “You think you can just walk in here after what you did?” she hisses.

My brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

Mom’s eyes dart to me, her lips pressed into a thin line. “This is the man who sent your brother to juvenile prison. Ten years ago.”

My heart skips a beat, confusion slamming into me like a tidal wave. “What?”

“He testified against Billy,” she says through clenched teeth, her eyes burning with anger. “He put my baby behind bars.”

I feel like I’ve been slapped. “Wait... what?”

Jack’s jaw tightens as he faces my parents. “I testified against Billy because he was dealing drugs to high school students. I wasn’t going to stand by and watch him destroy lives.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What?” I gasp, turning to face him, my voice trembling. “Billy... was dealing drugs?”

Jack’s eyes soften as they meet mine, but it only makes the whirlwind of emotions inside me more intense. “Emily, I was going to tell you—”

“When?” I cut him off, my heart pounding in my chest. “When were you going to tell me, Jack? After I found out like this?”

Tears blur my vision, and the room starts spinning. My family, Jack—everything feels like it’s crashing down around me. “You never thought to mention that you’re the reason my brother went to prison?”

“Princess, I…”

“Don’t!” I stop him with a raise of my hand.

The room feels smaller, like the walls are closing in, and I need air, space, anything but the chaos swirling around me. Without another word, I turn on my heel and walk out the door, not looking back as the cold air hits my face.