*
Author's note: This is fourth installment of I Keep Reaching. This is a story of forbidden love between a brother and sister. Please read the first three chapters before reading this one. As usual, any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated.
"Is this the residence of Erik Hamilton?" the police officer asked.
****
The events that followed our dinner and evening conversations were a blur. I complied, almost robotically, to the police officer's questions and instructions and found myself handcuffed, riding in the back of a police car.
The moment we arrived at the police station and the officer guided me through the glass doors, I recognized Nathan and his parents sitting near the reception desk. They were arguing.
I wasn't sure if they were going to immediately toss me in jail or further bombard me with questions but as we walked past reception, Nathan jerked up from his seat and ran towards us.
"Hey, wait!" he yelled.
All things considered, Nathan's recently broken nose didn't look that bad. There was just a small bandage covering the gash at the top of his nose and it looked like I did a good job snapping it into place.
The officer stopped and looked to him. "Yes?" he asked.
"I'm Nathan, the guy Erik punched. I'm not pressing charges."
"Oh? We got a call from your house saying you were attacked. Are you sure?"
"It was just an accident," Nathan responded. Clearly there was some kind of misunderstanding between Nathan and his parents but my mind was in too much of a haze to have a noticeable reaction.
"I'm not a minor and I'm not pressing charges," Nathan repeated.
"Open and close case is fine with me. Okay, then," the police officer said with a grin. He turned me around and uncuffed me. "You're free to go, then," he said. "Apologies for the inconvenience."
I turned to nod at him then met Nathan near the reception desk.
"Thanks," I told him. I reached out a hand and he shook it.
My father had followed the police officer to the station and was waiting for me in his car when I was released. Even up to this point, the realization of what I just went through still hadn't quite dawned on me.
After I entered the passenger side of my dad's Ford pickup, I looked to my dad. He turned the ignition off and pulled the key to his pocket.
Uh, oh.
"Is this what you had in mind when you said you were 'going to take care of it?'" Dad snarled at me.
His eyes were wide open; his cheeks were tense and his lips slightly parted. I'd seen this face many times before and it was never good. It was obvious that he was angry with me for brutally assaulting someone, an ex-teammate no less, but Dad was so short-tempered that he would show similar levels of anger when I accidentally left a drink on the stand next to his chair.
I took a few deep breaths before I responded. He could corner me and make me feel like a little boy so easily it was alarming. I tried to act like a man and responded truthfully.
"Yes. He had it coming."
Dad looked down at his lap and played with his keys. His anger seemed to be dissipating but I was still on edge. He was quiet for half a minute before he responded, still looking down at his lap.
"What you did was stupid, careless and immature. Don't let it happen again," he said in a taut voice.
He reached to put the key back in the ignition and looked to me as he turned the key and fired up the engine.
"And I'm going to need a better explanation than
that
!" he barked, his nostrils flaring.
These kinds of situations weren't that uncommon but they were spread out enough that I never quite had enough experience to learn how to talk my way out. This was different though. It wasn't just me that was being prosecuted, it included Chloe and I didn't want to reveal everything without Chloe's permission.
"He was a dick to Chloe," I said. I didn't want to be too specific and left it at that.
I saw his right lip bend in a smirk. He put the truck in reverse and pulled out of the station. I could barely hear him mutter "that's my boy" under his breath. I realized at this point that my heart had been racing. Not from the cop arresting me or from being in handcuffs, but from the ridicule of my father. Fortunately we drove in silence the rest of the way home and I calmed down.
Dad slapped me in the shoulder when I caught up to him at the porch.
"Try to be more discreet next time when you're looking out for Chloe," he said to me. "I appreciate you looking out for her, but there are better ways to deal with people than violence. I don't want to hear about you getting into any more trouble."
He pulled me in for a warm hug and said, "I mean it."
I heard him inhale sharply through his nose.