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“Saved you a seat,” he whispered.
“Sit with us, Brock,” Sarah called.
He didn’t even look at her when he said, “Nahh, not really into sheep.”
I couldn’t help the grin.
“Shall we?”
I didn’t pull out my notebook, didn’t think about my designs. I spent the period staring at Brock while he stared back.
After school, he was waiting for me at my locker. In silence, I grabbed my stuff and walked outside with him. Reaching his car, he held the door for me. We drove just outside of town where open fields reached to the horizon. He pulled to the side of the road and looked over at me. “Do you remember?”
“Our spot up that hill? Yeah.”
He waited for me at the front of his car. We walked up the hill to the tree. I hadn’t been here since we stopped hanging out. It hurt too much. The tree was thriving, which made me happy. The large oak’s leaves were turning yellow, its branches reaching out to the sun. We used to bring food and spend the entire day, losing track of time and only knowing we had to go home when the sun went down.
We rested up against the thick trunk. It was like we’d never left. “Talk to me, Brock,” I said, turning my head to look into those gray eyes. “How bad has it been for you?”
“It’s gotten worse recently.” He turned his focus to the horizon. “I think he’s into some bad shit.”
It didn’t surprise me. It made me scared, but not surprised. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s been more on edge, drinking more. I don’t think it’s just his usual. I think there’s more.” He looked back at me. “I think he’s made some calls that are coming back to bite him in the ass.”
“And he thinks you’re the answer to fix it?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s not going to make it easy for you.”
“I know. And bringing you into it—”
I needed to move because I was angry, so I stood and started to pace. “You’re not going to push me out again.”
He didn’t move, but he did grin.
“I’m serious, Brock. I let you push me away last time. I’m not making that mistake again. Whatever your father is up to, we face it together.”
His expression shifted, then grew intense as he stood. But I was pacing and purging, having held it in for so long because the one person I would have unburdened it on was out of my reach. I didn’t even know what was coming out of my mouth; the words were tumbling out faster than I could think of them.
I felt his hands on me, pulling me close, saw the heat in his eyes, and before I could draw a breath, his mouth was on mine. The world stopped rotating, even time stopped, as my brain memorized the moment: the feel of his lips, the soft touch of his tongue along my lower lip, the growl that moved up his throat just before his hand pulled through my hair, cupping the back of my head as his tongue pushed past my parted lips. It didn’t take long for me to participate, my fingers curling around his wrist, my tongue touching his. I’d never been kissed before, and after his kiss, I was glad I waited.
Time seemed to move differently as we explored each other. My body came alive, my longing grew, as his taste saturated my mouth, stirring my very first addiction.
When his mouth pulled from mine, I bit my lip because I didn’t want to stop. He framed my face with his hands and took my mouth again, deeper…hungrier. In my entire life, I would never forget that moment.
I didn’t know how much time passed when he pulled from me again and rested his forehead on mine, his breathing as labored as my own. Minutes passed before he whispered, “Whatever happens, we face it together.”
Mom and Iwere outside on the patio. The sun was setting.
“I want to tell you something, but it has to stay between you and me for now.”
Mom could tell by my tone it was important. She turned into me and gave me her full attention.
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t delicate, the subject didn’t warrant delicacy. “His father beats him.”
All the color left Mom’s face seconds before red bloomed on her cheeks.
