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Ian opens his mouth to say something, but pauses when someone knocks at the front door. We stare at each other for a moment, wondering if we ignore it, they’ll just go away. But they knock again and I sigh.
“I’ve got it,” Ian says, waving at me as he turns down the hall. Staggering to my feet, I use the wall to guide me from the room to the hallway.
Bright sunlight pours in around Ian’s body, blinding me from seeing who’s on the other side. But then he turns and looks at me over his shoulder and I see Enzo.
My stomach twists and I forget how bad I’d just been feeling.
“Oh my God,” I breathe as I hurry toward him. Ian steps to the side, grabbing Enzo’s bag from him as he enters. His eyes are on the floor—his eye is on the floor. The other one is swollen shut. He barely looks like himself from how swollen and bruised his face is. “Jesus.”
“I’m fine, Ms. K,” he mumbles.
“You’re not fine,” I snap as I take another step toward him. My hands shake as I lift them to his face—his poor, ruined face. “Why was it so bad this time?” He glances up at me, his one dark eye searing my soul.
“I fought back,” he says darkly, and my stomach drops. “You should see how he looks.” He tries to give me that cocky grin I love, but the cut in his lip spreads and he winces. Blood pools between his lips, into his mouth, and my stomach twists further.
I glance up at Ian, finding him staring at his friend with a mix of rage and adoration. I understand. I feel the same fucking way.
He fought back.
He fucking fought back.
“You should’ve just stayed with us,” I say, gently scolding him. He looks between us, then shakes his head.
“I can’t stay long,” he says, dropping his eyes again. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Ian repeats.
Something thick lodges in my throat at the look on Ian’s face. Enzo’s black hair sways as he tilts his head back, breathing deeply. He’s always so casual, so fun and loving, that seeing him like this breaks me. It also enrages me so fucking much I want to leave this house and find his father.
“I gotta get out of here,” Enzo rasps, his head still back. “I can’t stay in California anymore.”
“You can’t leave,” I say. “School? And—” He lets out a humorless laugh as he looks back at me. Ian steps beside me to glare down at his friend.
“Like I was ever gonna graduate,” he says bitterly. “I think my mom is in North Dakota. I’ll find her—”
“If she’s even alive,” Ian grumbles. “She’s no better than your dad.”
“At least she won’t beat me,” he shoots back. I shuffle closer to Ian and grab his wrist, wanting him to stop talking, stop pushing.
“She won’t,” Ian agrees, ignoring me. “But one of her many boyfriends will.” Enzo stares at him, his mouth clamped shut. Then his chin wobbles and every fucking wall I have around my heart crumbles.
“I almost didn’t survive this time, man,” he croaks.
He inhales sharply and pinches between his eyes. He’s too fucking young to deal with this. To be scared of dying at his father’s hand. He puffs his chest out, firming his face as he looks between us. But I still see it—the hurt. The fear. The need to be loved. The pain.
I don’t give him a choice, I just pull him into my arms and hold him. He’s stiff for a moment, then he lets out a broken-sounding sob. Then his arms are around me as he buries his face into my neck. His tears soak into my skin, and I squeeze him tighter.
“It’s alright,” I say, stroking his head. “I’ve got you. We’ve got you.” I squeeze my eyes shut at the raw pain I hear in his voice, at the guttural sobs coming from him. Ian rests his hand on Enzo’s shoulder, the only amount of comfort he can give him. “You’re staying here, alright?” He nods against me, his face slick against my skin. “You're ours, okay? I’m going to figure out a way to get you away from him. I’ll figure out a way for you to never see him again, alright?” He nods again and pulls back.
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but I can’t leave him to travel across the country to a mother who might not even remember him. I can’t leave him in the custody of his father, who will kill him one day. It’s not a matter of if he’ll do it, just when. And I’ll hate myself if something happens to him when I could’ve saved him.
“You can put your shit in my room,” Ian says, stepping out of the way. Enzo roughly clears his throat, and swipes his hand over his face.
“Thanks.” Enzo grabs his bag from the floor. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He just turns and heads silently down the hall, his shoulders rounded in.
“Are you okay with this?” I ask immediately after the door shuts. “Are you fine with him living here?” Ian nods, his face shifting into that same firm, bloodthirsty look he’d had when he protected me from Ezra.
“I hate his dad,” he says, glancing down the hall. “I fucking hate him.”
