Page 13 of The Dearly Departed

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My stomach ached from my eating too many grilled cheese sandwiches, and I thought I was going to be sick.

It was a stupid move on my part—irresponsible even—but Leonard and I had made sixteen sandwiches, using up all the bread and cheese the old guy had. I didn’t eat a damn thing until I was sure Ike and Shawn had gotten their fill. They ate four each, along with some pretzels Leonard had in a bag on top of his fridge, and Leonard ate two before asking if I planned on eating anything.

So, I had eaten six.

It was gluttonous and shameful.

The last time I'd eaten more than my share, the man of the house had forced his fingers down my throat until my stomach was emptied and hurting. My gut clenched as I thought about that now, scared to let go and scared to hold on, and I groaned, laying my arms over my middle, wishing I could wipe my memory and the food from my belly without leaving me wanting.

From beside me and across the table, Shawn and Ike watched me expectantly. I had said we would leave after we ate, and that time should be now. I knew we needed to go, I knew we needed to move. Truthfully, I had no idea what time it was, and we would have to find shelter before it got dark … again.

But if I moved now, I would purge my lunch. No, I needed a moment to breathe, to digest, and then … then we'd leave.

What if I don’t want to go though?

What if I want to stay here?

"Where are you boys headed?" Leonard asked, sitting to my right.

I answered with a shake of my head. There was no destination in mind, and even if there were, he wasn't privy to that knowledge.

"Do you have any money?"

Wordlessly, I slid my gaze to his, as if to say, What do you think, old man?

"Do you need money?"

Against my stomach, my hands itched. Yes, we needed money. We needed any penny we could get. What we would do with it, I had no clue. Where we would go with it and what we would do when we got there, I had no clue. But we needed money.

But I didn't want it from him.

I didn't want to owe him more than I already did.

Leonard's white brows pinched as he dropped his gaze. His fingertips tapped slowly against the table once, twice, three times. His lips tipped downward into a deep frown.

Then he looked up, met my eyes again, and asked, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Why?"

"Because …" His voice trailed off, and he sighed. "Because I'd like to discuss something with you. Alone … if that's all right."

My defenses rose, and a different type of queasiness barreled through my gut.

"I already told you, I'm not sucking your dick—"

"No, no," Leonard quickly interrupted harshly, raising a hand to stop me. "I don't … no, God, I would never …” He sighed and rubbed a hand against his cheek. “I only want to talk to you, I swear on my mother's grave. You have my word."

I guessed it meant something deep and meaningful to swear on his mother's grave, judging from the sincerity in his gaze. I didn't know that type of love. But that didn't mean I couldn't recognize it.

"Fine," I grunted.

Satisfied, Leonard exhaled and turned his attention to a flabbergasted Shawn and Isaac. "Boys, would you mind excusing us? If you'd like, you can go to the room next door and watch TV."

"Wait, you have a TV?" Ike asked, his brows lifting.

His hopeful expression reminded me of how young he still was. Fuck, we all were. But then why did I feel so old?