Take Me On(4)

“West.” Haley surveys the damage to my face, my hands, my body. “I really am sorry.”

God, I’m jacked up because everything pounds like a bitch and I can only think about her beautiful dark eyes. “It’s all right.”

She grabs a bag off the ground and stands. “I’ve got to go. I’m late.”

Abby tilts her head as she assesses Haley. “You know who I am?”

Haley straightens like she’s greeting an ax murderer. “Yes.”

I’m missing entire puzzle pieces here, as in everything except for the one corner piece I hold. Nothing here is as it seems, and I hate being the odd man out.

Abby thrusts her chin in my direction. “His younger sister is my best friend. I can help you...with whatever situation this is.”

“No,” says Haley quickly. “I’m fine. Look, I’ve really got to go.” She takes a step into the darkness.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” They ignore me, and why shouldn’t they? It’s not like I could get up and force them to listen.

Abby shrugs. “If you change your mind...”

“I won’t.” Haley finally turns her attention to me. “Thanks, West. But the next time a girl tells you to do something, do it, okay?”

I’d call her nothing but attitude if it weren’t for the defeat in her tone. “Haley...”

She doesn’t wait for me to talk; instead she races down the street. Fucked. Up. Dream. I rub my eyes and consider standing.

Abby’s tennis shoes crunch against the crumbling blacktop and halt at my feet. “Your choice—home, hospital or a place to lay low until you’re ready for one of the first two options. The prize behind curtain C comes with a shower and a change of clothes.”

I dismiss my original answer of no when I notice the blood on my shirt. I can’t go home or to the hospital like this. I can’t do that to my mother.

Using the bumper of my car, I struggle up and hobble to the passenger side as I eye Abby sliding into the driver’s seat. I’m slow getting in, but I’ll be damned if I ask for help.

The interior light dims when I shut the door. Abby fastens her seat belt and wraps her fingers around the steering wheel. “I don’t have my driver’s license.”

“Can you drive?”

“Sure.”

That didn’t sound reassuring. “Just go.”

She doesn’t. “You should buy goldfish.”

“What?”

“For your car. Like build a tank in between your front and back seats. It’d be different and I like different.”

If it will get me to a shower faster... “Okay.”

She smiles. “Really?”

“Sure.”

Abby shifts the car into gear. “And, West?”

I roll my head to look at her.

“I know your mother’s secret.”





Chapter 7




Haley

I’m late.

My feet pound rhythmically against the pavement. Is my uncle standing by the door waiting? Will he grant me mercy since it’s my first offense? I have no idea how he’ll react, and, I’ll admit, my uncle terrifies me.

I’m in shock. I know it. I’m calm. Too calm. And nothing hurts. After what happened...I round the corner and light shines through the cracks of the closed curtains, but the porch is completely dark. At night, the small vinyl house radiates an eerie white glow. My legs slow as I approach. I am so screwed.

“Pssst. Haley!” It’s a whispered shout from above. My cousin Jax leans out the attic window. His whitish-blond hair shines in the moonlight. “Through here.”

Wary of spying eyes, I cut across the neighbor’s yard and approach the side of the house through the shadows. My brother Kaden paces behind Jax. Mom must be a nervous wreck and Dad... Dad needs this medication.

Before stepping closer to the house, I peer at the living room window again. If the two of them get caught helping me, they’ll also be kicked out for the night. Because he’s seventeen and their arguments have moved from heated to toxic, Jax’s dad would possibly throw him out for good.

“Come on, girl, move,” says Jax. “It’s cold.”

“Catch!” I launch the bag up to Jax. The first indication I had been in a fight reveals itself as my biceps convulse and the bag hardly makes it two feet. I catch it and panic flickers in my bloodstream. If I can’t toss a bag, how am I climbing up?

“Again!” commands Jax.

I fling the bag again. My heart tears past my rib cage when Jax falls out the window to grasp the bag. I stifle the scream when I notice Kaden holding on to his legs. Jax fires the bag through the window, then dangles headfirst and waves his hands. “Let’s go.”

Taking two burning cold gulps of air, I stumble backward into the darkness. The frozen ground crunches beneath my feet. I swallow, lick my lips and narrow my eyes. I can do this. I’m a champion kickboxer. If I did that, I can do this. If I could do what I did a few minutes ago...

I derail that train of thought. I don’t want to think about that now.

Or ever.

Again.

I’m not a fighter. Not anymore.

With one last deep inhalation, I run straight toward the house, kick off against the vinyl and fumble with the old trellis. I climb until my palm smacks into Jax’s. His other hand grabs on to my flailing wrist and, seconds later, both he and Kaden pull me through the window.

The moment my butt hits the floor, Jax shuts the pane and Kaden drops a blanket over me. “What happened?”

“I’m late.” Yes, I’m definitely in shock.

“Noticed.” Kaden ducks his head under the beams of the vaulted ceiling as he crosses the compact attic space. This is my room. Better yet, it’s what my life has been reduced to: a blow-up mattress among boxes of old clothes, picture frames, spiderwebs and the smell of mildew.

Kaden cracks open the attic door and stares through the one-inch space. Sounds from the television mingle with the voices of my mother and aunt. There’s a thud followed by a grunt. Probably Jax’s brothers wrestling in the room below us.

“Haley,” says Kaden. My brother and I used to be close. Like everything else in my life, I miss him. When I say nothing, he rattles the bag in his hands. “Where’s Dad’s meds?”

“In the bag.”

“No, they’re not.”

“What?”

“There’s lettuce in there and no meds.”

My lungs collapse and my fingers tug at the neckline of my shirt. “No, they’re in there. They have to be.”

“Not here.” Kaden shakes the bag again so that it crackles. “It took Mom two months to earn enough for the pills. How could you lose them? Dad needs them.”

“I know,” I snap and throw my hands over my eyes. “I know.”

I bang the back of my head against the wall. I lost Dad’s medication. My family’s only hope of getting out of this godforsaken place. That’s why the guys left. I didn’t lose the meds. They stole them. The muscles beneath my right cheek begin to pulsate. Tears burn my eyes and my chest becomes heavy. I swore I’d never fight again and I did. I swore I’d never be hit again. And I have. This is the penance for breaking that promise. God, I’m worthless.

“Go, Kaden,” says Jax. “It’s happened and can’t be undone.”

Kaden disappears down the stairs and Jax crouches next to me. My cheeks feel numb against the warmth of the house. The skin there tingles and so do my fingers. Jax grabs them and begins to rub. “We need to find you a jacket.”

“You don’t have one,” I mumble blankly and flinch when regret cuts deep. Jax’s hands pause against mine and we make fleeting eye contact.

“I’m sorry.” I broke a cardinal rule. Kaden and I never mention what Jax doesn’t have.

“It’s okay.” He massages warmth back into my fingers. “I can take frostbite. You can’t.”

I offer a weak smile. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Yeah,” he says under his breath then releases my hands. “You are.”

“I lost the meds,” I announce as if he wasn’t part of the earlier conversation. “I lost Dad’s pills.” Why do I keep screwing up?

“You had a shit ton of errands and not enough time. You ran home and they probably fell out of the bag. It could have happened to any of us. If you’re going to live here, you’ve got to learn to let stuff go. Otherwise, you’ll go insane.”

I meet his green eyes at the word insane. What if I’m already there? What if I can’t take much more? I don’t ask those questions because I see the same ones forming in his eyes.

My cousin glances away. “We covered for you. Said you came in through the back door and came straight here.”

“Thanks. Why did he buy it?” Typically we have to present ourselves to The Dictator like soldiers in his make-believe war.

Jax scratches at the thin three-inch scar streaking across his forehead. He’s chosen a skater look today, and his hair lies flat against his head. “We told him you had an accident.”

My stomach drops. I’m not going to like this. “An accident?”

He avoids eye contact as he absently gestures with his hand. “Girl problems. Blood...in spots...on clothes.” Jax bolts up. “We’re not discussing this anymore. We covered for you. He bought it. That’s all you need to know.”