AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 10
Wyatt
I hold her hand tightly so she won’t run back to the club. She can fight like a pissed Rottweiler, but right now, I have to protect her. I march forward toward the busy highway, and she feels as if she’s yanking away. I look back, and Astrid is stumbling to keep up with me in her flats. Her head is thrown back, and her face is covered with tears. I’m being too harsh and ignoring her issues while I’m only focused on mine. She can’t be tough all the time.
I gradually lead her away from the busy road. We start the long walk back to Stonehaven, behind the buildings that line the highway. We’re too far away to be seen easily. Blue lights flash across the horizon, and every once in a while, the ambient noise of the passing cars is pierced by a scream. I pull her in and wrap my arm over her shoulders. She’s freezing cold and stares at me like she doesn’t know how we got here.
I tug her trembling body toward mine. “We’re okay, but we gotta keep moving. Astrid. Hold it together, and you can break down when we get back to Stonehaven.”
She sucks deeply into her lungs. “I don’t want to go back there.” She holds her arms as she starts to shake. “No, not there. Roni hates me. I won’t be able to stay steady if she looks at me wrong.”
I rub my hand over her arms to warm them. “Sweetheart, where do you want to go?”
She moves off in a different direction, and I follow her through weeds that come up to our knees. I follow her, wondering where we’re going, but I don’t speak as another siren races in the distance. Astrid pauses, and I press my hand into the small of her back to keep her moving.
“You can’t help them if you’re in jail too.”
Astrid starts walking faster, lifting her feet as she marches through the tall grass. Soon we’re standing on a crappy service road—the crumbling asphalt crunches under our shoes. If we turn right, we’re in the industrial area, and I wonder if we’re headed for the Pit, but Astrid walks straight. She heads down a two-lane street that leads to an area that’s mixed residential and commercial. Houses start to appear, interrupted by storefronts. Vacant lots are surrounded by metal fences that protect weeds.
A few cars pass with deafening mufflers and silver spinning rims as we cross a street. It’s not that late in the evening, and a few people are sitting out on the stoop; their conversation dies as they eye us walking past. Astrid keeps moving at the same pace, not giving them any notice, and as soon as we pass, their conversations start again.
Astrid crosses a busy intersection, and I’m about to ask where we’re heading when she fishes a key out of her dress. She walks toward a four-level apartment building that’s identical to one that is across the street. Astrid walks up and unlocks the well-lit outside door with a crisscross of metal embedded in the glass.
“Who lives here?” I ask as we walk past an elevator and head up a flight of stairs.
“My mother, but she’s not here. She’s in rehab.”
Behind a thick door, someone’s shouting over a loud TV as we walk down a narrow hallway with discarded food wrappers on the floor. Astrid stands in front of the last door, and I look back up the hallway, hoping nobody comes out and messes with us. We’ve had enough shit to deal with today.
She holds the door open, and I follow her into the apartment that is as cold as the outside temperature. A single light bulb switches on above our heads, illuminating a short hallway that leads into a living room with a beat-up couch that sags in the middle. The place looks as clean as it can be in this building. Astrid walks into a cramped kitchen and pulls the door open on a loudly humming fridge. There’s nothing in there but some condiments and a carton of eggs. I sit down at a round kitchen table but hesitate to relax when the wooden chair creaks underneath me. I scoot the chair back from the table, hoping it won’t break.
“You live here with your mom?” I ask quietly.
She nods, filling a liter plastic cup with faded letters from the sink. She hands it to me with a couple of ice cubes to cool the water. Then she fills another cup for herself. Astrid sits down opposite me and drinks her water down in large gulps that move her throat. I look past her at the calendar on the wall. It hasn’t been changed since August. That must’ve been the month they left.
I was so fucking wrong. Howland didn’t do shit for Astrid after he gave her his DNA.
Slowly, I sip my water and look at the clutter surrounding the sink. An old bowl that’s chipped and a mismatched silver spoon lie on a yellowed dishcloth next to a box of cereal. It’s a brand I’ve never heard of, but the box looks familiar. And lying beside it is an empty prescription bottle missing its cap.
Astrid follows my eyes, and I jump when she speaks. “I told you. She’s in rehab.”
She sighs deeply, closing her eyes as her shoulders begin to shake. Tears wet her face as she tries to catch her breath. She lifts her hands to her face as if to cover her grief.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps, “I don’t mean to. I’m lost.”
I get up from the table, banging into the thin metal legs with my knee. I hold my hand out just in case it breaks apart while I move quickly toward her. I try to hold Astrid, but she doesn’t want my awkward comfort.
She pushes me off her and hurries out of the kitchen. I follow her down another hallway, and we end up in a master bedroom. Astrid sits huddled on a double bed as close as she can against the wall. The bed is covered in a comforter decorated with garish abstract flowers in colors that blind. The bedside table has a small lamp, and the rest of the surface is invisible under pill bottles.
I stand there like a jerk, watching her rocking and crying. She doesn’t want me. But I’m the one that’s here. I sit beside her on the bed and pull her into my lap. Astrid lays her head on my shoulder, and her sobs are powerful enough to shake me. My hand holds hers as she cries it out.
She sits up and lets my arm remain draped over my shoulder. She stares off into the distance, and I know what she sees on the wall. Tonight is replaying in her mind, and I’m hoping she’s leaving out the part that starts with me being a jerk.
“Astrid, we’ll fix it for them.”
“Fix it? Did you see what I saw?” Her lips tremble as she launches off my lap and paces across the room. I guess she paces a lot. There’s a threadbare mark where the carpet is worn down.
I catch her wrist as she passes by me. “Astrid, it will turn out okay.”
