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“I spoke to Terry. He says we can start using the gym if we get there before it opens. We’ll have to do some cleaning up around there and still make his drop-offs for him, but it’ll be worth it to see the look on that fucker's face when we get strong enough to knock the cocky smirk off it.”
I clench the ax handle a little tighter when I think about the night he taught me how to lift. How he humiliated me and made me feel so weak.
I lie awake at night thinking about making him suffer, for every time he’s laid his hands on me or my brother, and for the way he talks down to Mama.
I look past Cody and across the yard to Beth. She's still on the swing, and Rick steps up beside her, placing his hand over hers and stopping the swing from rocking. She doesn't look up at him. She stares back across the yard at me, her eyes still vacant. Her face is blank too as he coaxes her off the swing and leads her up the steps onto the porch.
All the sadness on her face lifts into an excited smile when he hands her a box, and a chestnut-colored nose pokes over the top.
She squeals with excitement, pulling the puppy out of the box and snuggling it to her chest.
“Mama’s not gonna like that one bit,” Cody says, watching the same scene as me. “She hates dogs, and the last thing we need around here is another mouth to feed.”
“Look, Cade!” Beth races towards us, carrying her new pet under her arm. “Rick got him for me. I’m gonna call him Foxy. You see how he’s red like a fox?” she beams.
“He’s great.” I grin back at her, pleased to see her smiling again.
“I give it a week before Mama’s made Rick take him to the pound,” Cody says cruelly, and her smile quickly fades.
“Hey, don’t listen to him. He’s a jerk. That ain’t gonna happen,” I assure my little sister, rubbing my hand over the lively pup's head and throwing Cody a warning look.
“Why were you sad before?” I ask her, still curious.
“I thought I’d made Rick mad, but he can’t be mad if he got Foxy for me, right?” She places the puppy on the floor, and it excitedly jumps around her feet.
“Beth, the boys got chores to do!” Rick calls at her from the porch, and she looks at us both guiltily.
“I better go help him make dinner. Mama’s doing another late shift at the truck stop.”
“Go on, get out of here.” Cody smiles as he shoos her away. “And he’s right, I’m a jerk,” he calls out, scuffing up Foxy’s coat before the tiny thing chases after her.
“I still give it a fucking week,” he mutters under his breath before getting back to work.
“Screw.” My brother’s voice brings me back to the job I’m meant to be doing. “Ya good?” he checks, zipping up his fly and making his way back over.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I nod, stepping away from the window and taking my place back in the corner of the room.
Brax picks Grace up just after ten, and as I wave her goodbye from the porch, I wonder how she ever fell in love with a man who kidnapped her.
There’s no denying Brax is handsome, but he’s also scary-looking. His eyes are cold unless they’re looking at her, and that gives me hope that if they can be together, so could me and Screwy.
I’m about to go back inside when something across the yard catches my eye. The dark figure in the shadows freezes me to the spot. What if it’s one of them, and they’ve come for me? Screwy isn’t here to stop them.
My body is paralyzed, my throat tightens and prevents me from screaming. When the figure steps out of the dark, walking toward me, I suddenly manage to catch a breath.
It’s Storm, the young guy who was in the truck the night Screwy saved me. He’s a Dirty Soul. He won’t hurt me.
But as he marches toward me with angry eyes, and balled-up fists, I start to doubt it. I want to turn and run back inside, bolt the door until Screwy comes back, but all that fear is back, and it prevents me from moving.
“She’s alive. I can still feel her,” he snarls through his teeth before taking a long drag of his cigarette and flicking it to the ground. I know he’s talking about his sister, the girl who Screwy was supposed to save.
“I’m her fucking brother! I’d know if she was dead.” His feet meet the porch step, and I manage to take a step back. Resentment steams off him. He hates me because I’m here instead of her, and he hates me even more because I can’t help him find her.
I wish Screwy was here.
“You must remember something. You’ve got to. Every time I get close, something happens to fuck it up,” Storm's palm smashes into the pillar that's holding up the porch roof, and it makes the light above me flicker. “You must have seen other girls. I just need to know that she was there, that she’s alive.” He pulls a picture out of his pocket and holds it in front of me. The girl in the photo is so pretty. But her red hair and bright, blue eyes don’t trigger any recollection.
“I’m sorry. I never saw anyone, just the girl who prepared me to leave, and her name was Clara,” I try to explain, but Storm grows more intense, stepping closer and making me even more nervous.
