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Santee felt like a complete idiot for never wondering the same thing. Maybe because he was too worried about Marvell. “I never thought of that.”
“You said you had a good relationship with them.”
“I never said that,” Santee corrected him. “I just said that I was happy for them.”
“But I said they sounded wonderful, and you agreed,” Beckett countered.
“I just met you,” Santee defended. “I wasn’t about to tell you that my homelife sucks and that my parents turned a blind eye to what Marvell was doing, chalking it up to siblings just being siblings.”
“Are you serious?”
Santee could hear the incredulousness in Beckett’s voice.
“Dead serious,” Santee said. “I tried to tell them, in a roundabout way, that Marvell’s behavior wasn’t normal, but they dismissed my concerns.”
“I’m not trying to force you into anything, Santee. I swear I’m not like that, but you’re not going back there.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Santee was glad to hear Beckett say those words. It was one thing to think his mate would gladly take him in, another to hear it confirmed, though Beckett had said almost the same thing before Santee had left this afternoon.
Still, when a person had been abused their entire life, criticized, made to think everything was their fault, having absolute faith in anything was damn near impossible.
“I would hug you, but—”
“Don’t come near me,” Santee warned, though he would have loved a hug right about now. Even though Marvell wasn’t around, Santee still felt the paralyzing fear of his brother attacking him and making that threat of teaching him a lesson for lying. He still saw that boot coming toward him, his brother ready to kick the mess out of him and break some ribs in the process.
“You still haven’t told me how you ended up under those bushes.” Beckett stretched out beside him but maintained a heathy distance.
“I ran,” Santee admitted. “When he was about to crack some ribs with his foot, I took off, racing into the forest. I knew he was going to catch up to me, because he’s a lot faster, so when I saw that skunk—”
“You purposely got sprayed,” Beckett said. “Very clever, conejito.”
“Only, I didn’t think of how long this stench would last.” Santee started to rub his eyes, but pulled his hands away. “I might be out here for a week or more.”
“Then I’ll be right out here with you,” Beckett said, melting Santee’s heart.
Chapter Six
Santee had never been scrubbed so much in his entire life. Not only had Milly drowned Santee in tomato juice but she’d also smeared him with a mixture, rotating between baking soda and peroxide and baking soda and vinegar.
He wasn’t sure what smelled worse, the skunk spray or the vinegar. Definitely the skunk, but the vinegar was a hard second.
“I can still smell it, but it’s fading,” Milly said after three days of Santee bathing in different concoctions. Okay, not bathing in a tub, because she’d lovingly refused to let him inside. Instead, Beckett had bought a blow-up pool, big enough that liquids covered Santee.
“Hey, you don’t smell like putrid skunk anymore,” Duncan said when he came outside. “Now you just smell like a bag of barf.”
“Behave or I’ll call Beckett outside,” Milly said. “It wasn’t Santee’s fault that he had the misfortune of being sprayed.”
If she only knew the truth.
Duncan must have suspected something, because when Milly said that, Beckett’s brother looked at Santee with questioning eyes. It really was creepy how much Duncan looked like Beckett. Even his facial expressions were similar, giving Santee the same look that Beckett gave him whenever Santee was holding something back.
Santee squealed when Milly hosed him down, washing away the baking soda and vinegar paste she’d lathered all over him. “You could have warned me!”
She smiled. “Sorry. It’s better not to warn you so you don’t try to run away from the hose.”
Thank goodness it was hot outside, because the water was cold as heck. Santee’s bottom lip quivered as he stood there in a pair of cotton shorts and the sleeveless shirt Bran had given him, feeling like a drowned rat.
The next time Marvell chased him, Santee was just going to throw the skunk at his brother instead of letting the thing spray him.
