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“Are you going to—”
He gave me a look. “What? Tell him the truth, that we’re still just fucking?”
“I could hit you with a pillow right now,” I deadpanned.
“It’s better if he thinks that. Easier to explain.”
I growled, but who was I kidding? I understood. “My mom is going to want you to come over for dinner.”
“We can tell her we broke up.”
I laughed, and once I started, I didn’t want to stop. The knot inside me was still there. It might always be there, but the laughter softened it.
A bit later, Scout got up for the last time, turning the light off before he slid back into bed.
I pushed my phone to the floor. I knew Scout’s alarm would wake us up. “Thank you for letting me stay.”
He didn’t reply, but a second later, his hand found mine.
“I’m going to Portland tomorrow night for a fight. Do you want to go with me?”
“Is your uncle going? You’re fighting?”
“No to both. He has a class tomorrow night, but he knows I’m going. A friend of mine is fighting. I’m going to support him, but I also want to scope out the guy he’s fighting. He’s been asking me for a match. It’ll be a late night coming back, but do you want to go with? You don’t have to—”
“Yes.” I didn’t know why, but I really, really wanted to go.
He was quiet for a beat. “Okay. I was planning on leaving around four. Time to get there and eat something.”
I turned on my side, facing him. “Thank you for inviting me.”
He turned to face me. He was always just watching me. Always with a wall up, not letting anything shine through, but I knew what this invitation meant. I knew what me staying here meant. I knew what him holding my hand meant.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“What?”
“What happened with your grandfather?”
He tensed up all over again, and I let out a soft sigh.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No. It’s—I didn’t do what he wanted me to do, and now we’re waiting for his second assau—” His eyes flicked to me. “His second attempt.”
I said softly, “You were going to say assault.”
“Bad word choice.”
“Is it, though?” I was studying him as I asked, “Is that how it feels when he does things or tries to get you to do the things he wants you to do?”
He slowly let himself relax. “It’s like war with him. He launches an assault, and he delivers a direct blow. I didn’t do what he wanted so he’ll launch a second assault. Just waiting to see what it is.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll figure out how to react to whatever he does. The problem is that he uses money to control everyone else in our family except my uncle and me. My dad has money, which I got from him even though he and I are estranged, and my grandmother set up a trust fund for me. My grandfather doesn’t even know about that money. He and my grandmother are divorced. They hate each other’s guts. He can’t hurt my dad. He can’t hurt my uncle because my uncle walked away from the family. The only person he can hurt is my mom . . .” He hesitated, rolling to his back and letting go of my hand so he could rest his palm on his stomach. “I can’t do anything to stop that. He’s been hurting her since before I was alive.”
A sick feeling took root in me. “Hurting her?”
“Not like, well, I don’t know what you mean, but he’s emotionally abusive to her. And other things, but she’s an adult. She won’t leave.”
My heart was thudding hard against my sternum. “Scout—”
“You can’t say anything to me that I haven’t heard or thought about before. I won’t live my life with him in it, and the only move I had was to leave.” A hard laugh left him. “Sad thing is, my mom’s the one who told me to go. Bought my ticket. She opened the door, and I walked through it. She’s regretted it ever since, but I won’t go back.”
I frowned. “What do you mean she regrets it?”
His eyes found mine. “She goes back and forth, wanting me back. Then her mom side kicks in and she knows it’s best for me if I’m here.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, his eyes closing off. His whole face shuttering closed. “It is what it is.”
I studied him, seeing all the thoughts I had about him, that he stood apart, was true because he did. He was different from the rest. He was aged in ways the rest of us weren’t, myself included. A family that waged war on each other? I couldn’t imagine.
A different thought occurred to me. “You told me you weren’t scared of Max or his family. You really aren’t, are you?”
