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Love must be this: six boys who a lot of people threw away. Six boys who society said were one thing and they turned out to be something else...something more...something better. Six boys who have hopes and dreams and fears...and all of those things they keep hidden deep in their souls along with their hurts because society says they aren’t allowed to feel.
Six boys who set out to make money for varying reasons. Six boys who sweat and bled and endured blisters and pain. Heat causing them to tire. A sun that was relentless and unmerciful. Six boys that at the end of the week are quiet as they hand all their money to me.
Love—it isn’t meant to hurt my pride, it’s meant to heal. Each of these boys are loving me and if I don’t accept this money, I’m not loving them back.
“But you don’t even know me.” I don’t know who I am myself.
“You make Junior smile,” says Chris.
“And talk,” adds Ryan. “Didn’t know he had this much of a vocabulary.”
Logan flips Ryan off and the two laugh.
“You helped me.” West balls up his napkin and tosses it on the table. “When dad kicked me out, you helped.”
I nod at him, he nods back and I realize that West will always be around. Even after he graduates from college. Even when he moves away from mixed martial arts fighting. Even when he’s all respectable with a wife and a home and lots of money—West will always be my family.
Family. My heart leaps and twists. I meet Isaiah and Noah’s eyes and immediately glance away. When I first met them they were lanky boys who hadn’t grown into their own skin yet. Foster kids that nobody could love, nobody tried to love, and they broke my heart...broke me...and I did whatever little I could to help, because without Dad adopting me, I would have been them...I could have been worse.
“It was never enough,” I whisper.
Isaiah clears his throat and after a few seconds leans his arms on the table. “And it was all that I had, and then, it was enough to help me survive.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I say slowly. Then grow cold when I realize how they want me to thank them. I have to stop selling. I have to stop selling and I have to do so without anyone getting hurt.
My hand goes to my neck as I feel like my lungs are collapsing. I can’t breathe. The air—it’s not coming in—I... The table shakes when I push away and Logan’s water sloshes over his food. I jump to my feet and all the guys look as if they are seconds away from hurtling over the table to catch me. “I need to... I need...a few minutes.”
And I turn, the wrong way, and from his seat, Logan snags my wrist and prevents me from becoming impaled by a coat hook on the wall. I about-face and rush for the front exit. Air, I just need air.
Logan
Abby bolts out of the diner like someone yelled fire. We watch through the wall of windows as she beelines it for Isaiah’s car, circles, then realizes she has no way to leave.
“That went better than expected,” says Isaiah.
Agreed. I pop one more strawberry into my mouth and stand, grabbing the envelope Abby left behind. “I’ll take care of her. Someone settle me and Abby’s bill and I’ll pay you back later.”
“I’ll cover it,” says West. “Don’t worry about the payback.”
I’ll worry about the payback.
/> “Logan,” Isaiah says as I step to go after Abby.
I look down at him and when he knows he has my attention he says what all of us have been thinking since Abby broke down how Ricky is moving her up. “Eric kidnapping her and having us take her out of town is making more sense. I’m not sure she can go back.”
A slow throb forms in my temples. “I know.”
Eric said he was repaying a debt—saving Abby. He must think the only way out is for her to disappear.
Without another word, I leave the death trap of a diner and find Abby leaning against Isaiah’s black Mustang. Her head is hanging forward in her hands causing her hair to hide her expression.
On the sidewalk, I pause in front of her and allow Abby her space. She’s been on her own for so long, making decisions half the world can’t understand that me charging in acting like I’m the knight that’s going to save her from everything will only piss her off and be wrong.
If Abby wants me to kick someone’s ass, I’ll kick their ass—no questions asked—but it’s not my place to kick ass first then ask if that’s what she wanted later. Not my job to make her already complicated life more messed up than the current living nightmare it is.
Abby gathers her hair and twists it off her neck. The morning heat is already oppressive which doesn’t mean good things for us as we work today. “This makes us unbalanced. You giving me money? We won’t be equals. I don’t want to be with you because I’m indebted to you.”
“Then don’t. If you can’t handle being with me because we gave you money then we go back to being friends.” I have to work hard to not let the internal flinch at the idea of losing her show.
