Page 47 of The Wicker King

“No. No. I’m fine. Just don’t go anywhere.”

STRAIN

“You guys need to figure this out.” Rina got out of bed and started putting on her uniform.

August sighed and continued running his hand over Jack’s head. Jack had fallen asleep shortly after arriving.

“He’s always been odd. It doesn’t bother me. I’ve spent most of my life following him around, doing what he wants. So this isn’t new either, even with … everything. It’s just more dramatic.”

“You love him.” It wasn’t said like a question.

August looked down at Jack’s sleeping face and frowned. “I’m responsible for him. And I owe him. Knowing that he’s okay is important to me. More important than anything else right now.”

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“Probably not,” August said, but he didn’t stay his hand.

SNAP

Jack was sleeping over. He’d forgotten one of his textbooks back at his house, so August hopped on his bike to go pick it up. It started to rain on the way.

August tossed his bike onto the lawn and went up to the door. He dug in his pocket for his keys, but something made him pause. Instead, he reached out and knocked.

Jack’s father opened the door.

August hadn’t seen this man in months. He looked just like Jack but older, more polished. He stood there in the doorway like he belonged there—like he was innocent—holding a glass of wine.

“Hi, August. Have you seen Ja—”

August punched him in the face. He hauled Jack’s father inside and smashed him against the wall, scrunching the older man’s sweater in his fists. “Where have you been, you son of a bitch?”

“Let go of me!”

“He waited for you. You’re his father. You’re his father! You’re supposed to be there for him.”

“You can’t tell me how to raise my ch-child,” Jack’s father stammered. He had gray eyes like Jack’s.

August let go of him in disgust and stepped back, throwing out his arms. “Oh yeah? And who do you think has been raising him while you were gone? This is bullshit and you know it. And Christmas? Christmas? You’re lucky I don’t smash your head open on the sidewalk.”

Jack’s father slumped against the wall, staring at August in horror and rage. He clutched his bleeding nose with one hand, unsuccessfully trying to keep the blood from dripping on his shirt. “Get off my property or I’m calling the police,” he spat.

August was already halfway up the walk. “We’ll be back for the rest of Jack’s shit in the morning.”

SOVEREIGN

August was so mad he was shaking. He tried to calm down before he got back home, but it just wasn’t working. He kept remembering that smug bastard’s face. Anger pounded in his head and blurred his vision.

“Your dad is back.” August slammed the door open. “You’re moving in. We’re getting your stuff in the morning.”

Jack looked up at him calmly. “What did you do?”

“I fulfilled a promise.”

There was a moment as Jack figured out what that meant. August waited. Water dripped from his hair and clothes and soaked into the carpet.

They both breathed.

Finally, the Wicker King rose and crossed the room.