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Garrett’s words flutter through my head. The words are so simple, yet so fucking powerful to me. This pain will pass. I just have to be patient. Julie will be found. My ‘rents will unground me if they decide to keep me, and I will get to see my guys again. I will turn eighteen in less than four months, and then I can see Tyler as much as I like. It won’t always be like this. I just have to be patient and strong.
I wish I had asked Cin about Garrett earlier when we had that fucked up discussion. I’m still so worried about him. Not knowing if he’s ok is torturous. Have the guys heard from him? Is his dad still at his house? Ugh! I can probably kiss sleep goodbye for another hellish night. My thoughts are my worst enemy right now. I shouldn’t be left alone with them.
A tap sounds at my bedroom door, and I pop my head up off my mattress to listen.
“Rhys, are you awake, honey? There’s someone here that you might want to see.” Cynthia’s hushed voice has me frowning but also curious, so I roll off my bed and move to my door, unlocking it to peer out at Cin.
“Who?” I snap. It’s probably the police or child services coming to take me away.
“Garrett is here, honey.”
My brows shoot up, and I swing the door wide, ready to run out to find my big guy.
“Hang on.” Cynthia holds her hands up. “Before you go barging out there, you need to know that he’s a little beat up.”
“What!” I screech, and she hushes me, sending a panicked look towards the twins’ bedroom door.
“He’s ok, Rhys. Your dad is cleaning him up in the kitchen now.”
“But… why didn’t he come to my window?” I glance over at it like it somehow betrayed me.
“When we had a chat yesterday, I told him he was welcome here anytime, especially if he felt unsafe or needed help. But I asked him not to come to your window. I asked him to come to the front door and to ask your dad or me for help. So that’s what he did. I’m extremely proud of him for doing that. I can see how much he would prefer to keep his situation a secret, but he obviously knows he needs help.”
I leap forward, wrapping my arms around my mum's neck, reminding myself that she isn’t my enemy. That she cares about me and my friends and just wants us to be safe.
Cynthia hugs me back for a moment before pulling out of our embrace. “The best thing you can do for Garrett right now is to stay calm and be there for him. I have already put in a call to child services, so they know he is here and is safe. The police are already looking for Garrett’s dad, and his mum and sisters are on their way as we speak with some officers to his aunt's house. One of their neighbours called the police as well, so there are witnesses.”
“Doesn’t Garrett want to go with his mum and sisters?”
“No.” Cynthia shakes her head. “He doesn’t want his sisters seeing him like this.”
Her words sink in, and I push past her, running through the quiet house to the open plan living area to find Garrett sitting on a barstool facing the other direction while my dad dabs something on his face. I pull up short as I take in the tear at the back of his hoodie and the streak of blood that wraps around his head from the front.
Stepping forward slowly, I feel my heart start to fracture with each step as the side of his battered face comes into view. A gasp escapes me, my hand flying to my mouth as tears pool in my eyes.
My dad takes a step back as Garrett turns his head towards me, showing me that one side of his face resembles my big guy while the other resembles a bruised puffer fish.
“It looks worse than it is.” Garrett rasps, and I shake my head.
“Liar,” I whisper, and the good side of his face grins.
“Would it make you feel better to know that the other guy looks worse?”
I nod. “Your dad?”
He nods back, and my bottom lip wobbles.
“I’m so sorry.” I push past Will and step close to Garrett, unsure if I should touch him because I might hurt him.
“I’m ok.” He whispers, and his fingers link with mine.
I stare into his icy-blue eyes, noting the dullness in them tonight. He’s trying to be strong right now. Maybe he’s putting on a brave face in front of my dad, so I respect his needs, knowing exactly what it’s like to feel the compulsion of wearing the confidence mask.
I don’t let go of Garrett. Not when Will cleans up the rest of the blood from his face. Not when the police stop by to advise that they still haven’t found his dad and to take his statement and some photos. Not when Cynthia leads us to the kids' zone, explaining that I can sleep in Charlotte’s room and Garrett can sleep in my bed, even though she knows damn well that’s not going to happen. And I don’t let go of Garrett when I close the bathroom door in my mum's face, so I can help Garrett shower.
He sits on the edge of the bath as I ease his hoodie over his head, remaining quiet as he watches me. Then I ease his t-shirt off, taking in the bruising on his ribs.
“You’ve been crying.” His deep voice is low and quiet, gaining my attention from his ribs.
