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He swallows hard. “By the time we left, we only had fifteen minutes to get home. It usually took at least twenty, and that was keeping a good pace. Quinn had asthma, so he wasn’t great at running, and he had puffers. I said we should take the shortcut. He didn’t want to at first, ’cause my mum said never to go that way. But then I reminded him we’d be late, and I’d get in trouble. He knew what that meant when Mum was having one of her bad spells.”
“So you took the shortcut?” I ask.
Lance looks out into the darkness as he nods. His glassy eyes are glued to a spot on the wall, and his throat bobs.
“There was this alley we had to go down; once we were through there, it wasn’t so bad. There were stores and stuff. But that alley, it was dark. I’d gone a couple times with some friends, but never my brother. We got about halfway before we were swarmed.”
He sounds so tortured. “Back home they make their own weapons.”
My heart lurches.
“They’ll take off their socks and fill them with rocks. Then they beat you with them. Usually you come out with bruises and shit, but it fucking hurts like hell. They tried to take Quinn’s bag, and he knew if he came home without it we’d get in real shit with Mum, so he tried to hold on to it, and they went at him. Hit him right in the temple. One second he was screaming, and the next he was just…gone.”
Lance’s haunted gaze finally lifts to mine, fear and regret making his eyes shine. “It’s my fault he’s dead. I took him away from her. I broke her.”
The her he’s referring to can only be his mother. I see clearly that the blame has become a blackness inside that he can’t erase.
I curve my palm around his cheek, his sadness my own. “Oh, baby, that’s not your fault.”
“I took him there. I was the reason we were late.”
“You were a child.”
“I knew better than to go that way. I should’ve just dealt with the beating I’d get, but I didn’t want to, and then they fucking killed him, and I lost everything.” A choked sound leaves him, and he closes his eyes, fists clenching as he tries to control the shudder that passes through him. When his eyes open, there’s a vast emptiness that makes my heart ache. “I shouldn’t have told you any of this.”
I don’t ask why. I already know. It’s same thing he said the last time he gave me insight into his past. He thinks I’ll do what it seems like everyone else in his life has. I push up so I can look at him, even though he’s focused elsewhere. I touch his cheek, and he turns toward my hand.
“I’m so sorry the people who should’ve helped you through this weren’t able to cope with the loss. I’m so sorry they made you feel like it was yours to own.”
“It is mine.”
“Lance, look at me.”
His eyes shift, wary and afraid.
“How old were you?”
“Eleven.”
If my heart wasn’t breaking before, it certainly is now. To watch someone you love die, helpless to stop it, would be devastating to such a young child. To have your family fall apart and leave you believing it was your fault would be emotionally crippling. That Lance is as well adjusted as he is seems to be a miracle. I imagine his aunt is the reason for it.
“Oh, baby.” I push his hair back from his forehead.
He brushes tears away from my eyes, frowning at the dampness on his fingertips. “Why’re you crying?”
“Because I’m so sad that someone took your innocence from you like that, and that you believe it to be your fault when it was a horribly unfortunate situation out of your control.”
“I made a mistake, and it cost me my brother.”
“You made a mistake out of self-preservation. I’m sorry your mum didn’t know how to love you without hurting you.”
He traces the contour of my face. “I’m messed up, Poppy. I think there are parts of me that can’t be fixed.”
Loving this man isn’t going to be easy, but I still want to try. “I don’t need to fix you, Lance. I’ll take you as you are. I just want you to be happy.”
He kisses me, and I can almost taste his fear. He wants to believe me, but I can’t blame him for being afraid. All the people in his life who were supposed to stand by him have abandoned him in some way. I don’t want to be another.The night before Lance’s next away series I wake at four in the morning to an empty bed. He was here a few hours ago when I fell asleep on his chest, so I assume he’s gone in search of a snack. He seems to have the same nightly pattern, which explains why I don’t ever get a full night’s sleep.
