“I think we should have a talk,” I say softly when he doesn’t respond. From the corner of my eye, I see him nod slightly. “And before we do, I want you to promise me something, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispers. He sounds so young right now, vulnerable in a way I’ve never heard him, and it’s breaking my heart.
“It’s real easy. I’ll be honest with you, but you have to be honest with me. You told me once that I wasn’t a bullshitter, and you liked that.” He nods again, glancing at me before looking away. “I don’t want you to bullshit me, either, alright?”
He sighs, looking at his lap. “I’ll do my best.”
That’s all I can really ask for. “Why’d you run?”
“I made Arlo cry.” I look at him, and he turns away completely. “I’ve never seen Arlo cry. Not when Mom was doing drugs. Not when Dad was smacking him around. Not even when he had to leave us. Never. I’ve never seen him cry. And I—” His voice cuts off on a choked little sound. “I made him cry,” he whispers.
A huge part of me wants to tell him it’s okay. That Arlo knows he didn’t mean it. That he didn’t hurt Arlo’s feelings. But I just promised not to bullshit him, and I’m not going to. “You did,” I say softly. “You really hurt his feelings. He’s trying very hard to do right by you and Nora, and what you said—whatever you said—hurt him.”
His head whips toward me, his eyes wide. “He didn’t tell you what I said?”
I shake my head. “He sure didn’t, and I don’t need to know. If you want to tell me, you can, but you don’t have to.”
Salem nods, biting his lower lip before he finally turns away.
“Why did you come here?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
He shrugs. “I like the horses. They make me feel calm.”
Animals really are great for that. Horses, especially. “Are you feeling calm now?”
He nods.
“What’s going on, Salem? Talk to me. And remember—”
“No bullshitting,” he says, cutting me off.
I muster up a smile. “Exactly. No bullshitting.”
“I’m scared,” he whispers. I’m not really sure what to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all. “I was supposed to come live with Arlo, right? I was ready for that.” He shakes his head. “And then it was you.”
I frown; I can’t help it. “You don’t want to live with me?”
He groans, clearly frustrated. “It’s not that. It’s just—” He stops talking, then sighs. When he starts back up again, his voice is low and pained. “We grew up bad. You know that, right? You saw our town. We didn’t have nothin’. Arlo had to work so hard to make sure we ate and that we had lights and stuff.”
I nod, my throat tightening.
“And then,” he continues, “he left. S’fine. I don’t blame him. I’m not even mad at him. Even though I told him I was.”
“I think he knows you’re not mad at him,” I say softly.
I want to pull him into a hug so badly, but I figure I’d better not. He’s being open with me, and I don’t want to do anything that might make him stop.
“I hope.” He glances at me. “I was so mean to him.”
“It’s okay, Salem. Arlo loves you. I know he’ll forgive you. He just wants to help you. He wants to knowhowto help you.”
“It’s not him, really.” I’m about to ask him what he means by that when he drops his gaze to the hay. “It’s you.”
I swallow hard, my heart hammering. I’m trying not to take that personally, but it feels a little personal. That’s not on him, though, so I don’t let it show. “Okay. Can you explain that?”
“You keep offering to buy me shit.”
I cock my head, confused. “Okay?”
