Chapter 122 The Fight

Chapter 122 The Fight
Jake POV

"He's coming here?" My voice cracks on the word here, and I'm already moving toward the front window, checking the driveway like Daniel Ford might already be pulling in behind Maren's headlights. "Tonight? With Lily asleep upstairs?"
"That's what he said." Maren's still catching her breath. "I told him not to. I told him this isn't the way, that Penny deserves to hear it somewhere safe, somewhere she chooses. He didn't listen. Jake, he sounded desperate. Not dangerous exactly, just desperate, like he's been waiting sixteen years and he's done waiting."
Penny's gone very quiet beside me, arms wrapped around herself, and something about the way she's standing, small, braced, like she's waiting to be hit by something she can't see coming, cracks straight through whatever composure I had left.
I can't do this. Not tonight. Not with Lily upstairs, not with the house on the line, not with a stranger driving toward us right now claiming to be Penny's father, not with my own dad's hearing four days away threatening to take everything we have left. Something in me, some last thread holding all the panic together, finally snaps.
"Penny, maybe you should go stay at your mom's for a while," I say, the words coming out faster and rougher than I mean them to. "Not forever, just, until this settles down. You've got decathlon regionals coming up, you've got your scholarship applications, you've got your own life that's actually still on track, and I don't want my family's mess dragging you under with it."
Penny's face changes instantly, hurt flashing across it before she can hide it. "You're seriously bringing this up right now? While a stranger's literally driving here to tell me who my dad is?"
"That's exactly why I'm bringing it up," I say, panic making my voice sharper than I intend. "This is exactly the kind of thing I mean, Penny. You didn't ask for any of this. My dad's investigation, my mom's case, now apparently your own birth certificate wrapped up in the middle of it, none of this is yours to carry. You should be focused on getting into college, not sitting in my kitchen at ten at night waiting for some stranger to show up."
"So what, you're deciding for me what I should be focused on now?" Her voice rises, sharp, hurt bleeding through every word. "Two days ago you told me teams don't hide things from each other. Now you're telling me to go focus on my scholarship like I'm some kid who needs to be shielded from real life?"
"That's not what I meant,"
"That's exactly what you meant, Jake." She steps back from me, and the distance between us suddenly feels like it's made of something much bigger than a few feet of kitchen tile. "You get to decide when I'm allowed to be part of this and when I'm not? That's not being a team. That's you deciding I'm too fragile to handle the same things you're handling."
"I'm not saying you're fragile, I'm saying I'm scared," I snap, louder than I mean to, my own control finally cracking wide open. "I'm scared we're going to lose the house. I'm scared my dad's going to prison. I'm scared some stranger is about to walk through that door and tell you something that changes your whole life, and I don't know how to protect you from any of it, so forgive me for wanting you somewhere safer than the middle of my family's collapse."
"I don't need protecting, Jake!" Her voice cracks now too, tears finally breaking through. "I needed a partner. That's what you promised me two nights ago. And now the second things get scary again, you're back to deciding I need to be somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere out of the way. Do you know how that feels? It feels like being pushed out. It feels exactly like what your dad's been doing to you your whole life, except now you're doing it to me."
That lands like a slap, and I know instantly, watching her face crumple the second the words leave her mouth, that she didn't mean to say it quite like that, but it's already out, already hanging heavy between us, and I don't know how to argue against it because some ugly part of me knows she's not entirely wrong.
"That's not fair," I say, quieter now, something cold settling into my chest.
"Maybe not," Penny says, voice shaking. "But it's how it feels right now."
Maren shifts uncomfortably by the door, clearly wishing she were anywhere else, and neither of us moves to fix it, both too raw, too exhausted, too scared underneath the anger to know how to bridge the gap we just tore open between us.
"I think I should go," Penny finally says, voice small, wiping her face fast. "Before he gets here. I need to think. And apparently you need space to figure out whether you actually want me in this or not."
"Penny, that's not,"
"I'm going, Jake." She grabs her bag off the counter, and for the first time all week, she doesn't look back at me the way she usually does, doesn't reach for my hand, doesn't offer any small reassurance before walking out the door.
I let her go. I don't know why. Every part of me screams to chase after her, to fix it, to take back every wrong word, but I just stand there frozen in the kitchen, watching the door close behind her, hating myself more with every second that passes.
Maren touches my arm gently. "Jake."
"Don't," I say, voice rough. "Please don't right now."
Headlights sweep across the front window again, slower this time, more deliberate, and my stomach drops straight through the floor.
A car door opens outside. Footsteps approach the porch, unhurried, certain.
And then a knock, three slow raps against the door, and a voice I've never heard before calls through the wood, calm and steady in a way that somehow makes it more terrifying than if he'd been shouting.
"Jake. My name is Daniel Ford. I think you already know why I'm here. But I need you to know something before I say another word, Penny's not the only person in danger tonight. And if she's already gone, we need to find her right now."