Clenching my already wounded fist, I strut toward the happy family. The closer I get, the worse my vision becomes—all I see is red.

"Vange, get back here!" I hear Kira whisper-shout, but I ignore her, already halfway to their table.

Keep it together, Vange. Don't lose your shit.

"So," I say, causing all of them to jump in their seats, "what's going on?"

Benson's copper face turns ghostly white. Across from him, Alyx looks like she's about the wet herself. Poor Clem wears a baffled expression. She might be the only one more confused than I am.

"Evangeline, hi," Benson mutters, his discomfort palpable.

I roll my eyes. "Benson, hi. Care to tell me what the hell this is?"

"Honey, it's not what you think," Alyx says, running her fingers through her crimson hair.

"So you're not eating dinner together like the perfect little family?" I accuse them.

"Evangeline, stop it!" Benson scolds me before he rises to his feet, wraps his fingers around my bicep, and drags me out of the diner.

"You have some nerve laying your hands on me," I hiss once we're outside. "You know, I almost believed your sob story. I felt sorry for you, and then I learned the truth—the real truth, not your twisted version of it."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's fine. I don't expect you to be honest with me," I reply. "But if you think for one second that I'm going to let you lie your way into Clementine's life—"

"You'll what?" he cuts me off, his brown eyes glistening with contempt. "Look, I can't make you believe me, and I can't make you want to have a relationship with me. However, if you try to interfere with me having a relationship with them"—he nods his head to the side, gesturing toward the diner—"then that's going to be a problem."

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and take a step back. I cross my arms, wearing a facade of bravery, even though everything about this man terrifies me to my core.

"Alyx and I were going to get married and raise Clem together, and then Bowie and Gemma ruined everything," he goes on. "For ten years, she refused to talk to me, but she finally gave in. This is my second chance to do things right, to have the family that was taken from me. You won't get in the way of that."

"Alyx is married to someone else," I toss back. "What are you gonna do? Break them up?"

He strides forward, lessening the distance between us until it's almost nonexistent. His hot breath hits my face, making me squeeze my eyes shut.

"I'm going to take back what's mine," he whispers.

I take a deep breath, mustering all of the courage I possess. "Is that what you did with my mom?" I ask through clenched teeth. "Did you take what you thought was yours?"

He glares at me, his expression hate-filled. I stumble in reverse, attempting to put as much space between us as possible. I reach into my pocket with my not-injured hand and find my phone, just in case I have to use it.

"Your mother was a little tease. She was asking for it," he sneers.

"Asking for it?" I gasp. "You assaulted her. You drove her to suicide. Because of you, I grew up without parents!"

"You got lucky. When your mom offed herself, she set you up for success."

I taste bile in the back of my throat. "Ex-excuse me?"

"You live in a safe, upper middle class neighborhood," he elaborates. "You go to a good school, and you'll probably attend an even better college. You've never had to worry about money or when you're going to eat next.

"If you still lived with Raelyn, you'd be in a studio apartment in the middle of the ghetto, eating Top Ramen and Chef Boyardee for every meal. You wouldn't be able to afford a Big Mac, never mind university. Does that sound like a life worth living to you? If you ask me, you got lucky."

Around me, the world spins. I'm so angry that I can't see straight, that I can't even string words together.

"I know it sounds harsh," he relents. "Just try to remember your privilege is all."

"Remember my privilege?" Tears pour from my eyes like raindrops down a window. "Yes, I have a lot of blessings, but don't you dare imply that my mother's death is one of them!" I shout. "I would give up the big house and the college fund for one more day with my mom. I would eat ramen and canned ravioli every night if I thought it would bring her back."

He shakes his head. "You're naive. You don't mean that."

"God, things were so much better before you came to town!" I cry out, wrapping my arms around my torso.

"Sorry, Evangeline, but I'm not going any—"

"Are you alright? This guy bothering you?"

I whirl around and see Ambrose sprinting toward me, still in uniform. I manage a feeble nod, afraid to say anything else.

"Everything's fine, officer," Benson says, faking a smile. "Just a father/daughter quarrel."

Ambrose furrows his brow. "This is your dad, Vange?"

"Sure am," Benson answers.

"I asked Vange, not you, sir," Ambrose retorts.

"Um, I'm going back inside. Kira's waiting for me," I mumble, desperate to escape this conversation.

I walk away from both men. Moments later, I hear gentle footsteps behind me. Relief courses through me when I realize they belong to Ambrose and not Benson.

"I'm glad they got my order wrong," he mutters. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have come back."

"Thank you," I murmur, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes.

"Was that really your dad?"

"Unfortunately."

As I'm about to open the door, Kira steps outside, a to-go box in her hand. I graciously accept it, suddenly ravenous.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her blue eyes twinkling with worry.

"No," I admit, "but I will be."

"My mom just called. She wants me home asap, which means that either my dad is demanding I visit him over Thanksgiving," she grumbles, "or she found vodka in my room."

"Yes, totally say that in front of the cop," Ambrose pipes in, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

Her face falls. "Um, did I say vodka? I meant... holy water."

Ambrose and I both burst out laughing. Kira blushes scarlet, which only makes me giggle harder.

"You're so funny," she groans, rolling her eyes. "Come on, I gotta drop you off before I head home."

"If you're in a rush, I can give her a lift," Ambrose offers. "Wouldn't want your mom to confiscate your holy water."

"That works for me," I say.

"Thank you, Officer Williams." Kira salutes before racing to her car and driving away at a less-than-average speed.

I wait outside while Ambrose exchanges his order. When he returns, he leads me to his cruiser and instructs me to get in the passenger seat.

"Unless, of course, you want to sit in the back and live out some sort of being arrested fantasy," he adds with a chuckle.

"All set on that." I climb into the front and tell him my address, eager to go home, reheat my now cold food, and then go to bed.

Three minutes into the drive, he clears his throat like he's about to say something, but the action is followed by silence. Neither of us speak until we reach the first traffic light.

"Vange," he begins, "there's something I have to tell you."

"What is it?" I ask.

"The day we met, you said I looked familiar. I thought you looked familiar, too, but I didn't dwell on it. Later, when Rem told me about... about your mom, I remembered something," he says, accelerating the vehicle as the light turns green.

"What did you remember?" I inquire, my interest piqued.

"Well, about eleven years ago, I was called to a scene. A woman had overdosed in her home. It seemed like a suicide attempt. Hours later, she died at the hospital."

"My mom," I whisper.

He nods his head. "Yeah, it was your mom, Vange, but you and I... we met that night. You were sitting outside with your landlady, and you were hungry, so I brought you back to my cruiser and gave you—"

"Swedish Fish," I finish, recalling a dream—rather, a memory—I had back in September. "You gave me Swedish Fish."

"I did. I'm surprised you remember that."

"A lot of things have been... coming back to me recently."

"Well, uh, there's more," Ambrose continues. "About five months after your mother passed, my little sister approached me. She said her friend had a brother who was... problematic, who I needed to keep an eye on." He exhales a heavy sigh as the cruiser slows to a stop once again. "Her friend's name was Bowie Beaufort, and the brother in question was—"

"Benson," I whisper. "My dad."

"I didn't know he was your dad when I met you. Your last names are different, so I didn't make the connection right away," he clarifies. "I just figured I should be honest with you. You're really important to my son, which means you're important to me, too."

"Thank you, Ambrose," I say, beaming. "Lately, most of the adults in my life want to tell me anything except the truth."

When we pull up in front of my house, I'm still shaken from my encounter with Benson, but I feel better, more at ease. I gather my belongings and open the door to get out of the cruiser when a thought pops into my head.

"Does Rem know?" I ask. "Have you told him what you just told me?"

"No," he answers, "but I intend to tell him tonight when I deliver his lukewarm grilled cheese."

"Food does make everything better," I reply, smirking to myself. "Well, thanks for the ride. Have a good night."

I step out of the car and into the house. Gram and Grandpa are still awake, but they must see how exhausted I look, because they don't attempt to make conversation.

Quickly, I nuke my dinner in the microwave and take it upstairs. I chuckle when I see the One Direction poster that covers the fist-sized hole in the wall. I got over my crush on Harry Styles a long time ago, but today he really came through.

Well... that made me emotional.
Someone give Violent Vange an award for not punching him in the throat.
Lord knows I would've!

Don't forget to tap that star before you leave ⭐️⭐️