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He sprinted away from the truck, and Spencer jammed his into park. He leapt from his truck too, already running after his dad.
Other men yelled, but Spencer didn’t devote any brain cells to figuring out what they’d said. He focused on the thin figure darting between two cabins. He carried something with him, and Spencer had to get it back.
Will and Lee were in pursuit too, and along with Spencer, the three of them each took a different route around the cabins. “There’s nowhere to go back here,” Lee shouted, and as Spencer cleared the cabin, he saw how right Lee was.
A grassy area took up the space between the cabins and an eight-foot fence. Spencer would’ve had a hard time scaling it, and that meant his father had no chance.
Ernest spun back toward the three men, each of them advancing slower now, on a different trajectory. He looked wild and unkept, like perhaps he’d been sleeping in the light blue truck for a few days. Or longer.
“Dad,” Spencer said, holding up both hands as he took a step. His chest vibrated with the need to take a breath. He had sprinted quite a ways, after all. “There’s nowhere to go, Dad. Just calm down.”
He felt Lee and Will looking at him, probably because of thedadreveals.
Now that Spencer was closer, and things had slowed down, he could see that Ernest held a money bag in his hand. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a knife with a flourish.
“Stay back,” he commanded, his voice surprisingly rough for how frail he seemed physically. Spencer had been impressed by the running too. His eyes swept the three men, all of whom had frozen. They locked onto Spencer’s. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Just come on back to the cabin,” Spencer said, his voice loud and clear. A shocking level of clarity filled his mind. His father was very, very ill. He needed help, and not just for a day or two. Not just a meal or two. But real, professional help.
“I’ll make you a sandwich, Dad. It’s okay.” Spencer took another step, waving for Lee and Will to stay back. At least Wayne wasn’t here. Or Clarissa.
Humiliation crept into Spencer’s throat, but he swallowed against it. This was not his fault. He wasnothis father.
You brought him here, ran through his mind, but he silenced it.
“Give me the knife,” Spencer said, having a flashback to the last time he’d faced his father while he held a weapon. The scar on his left hand seemed to pulse with heat. “And we’ll go have breakfast.”
His father looked gaunt, hungry, desperate. He backed up another step, his gaze wild as he looked from Spencer to the Cooper men.
“Look at me, Dad,” Spencer commanded, still advancing slowly. His father complied, and Spencer smiled at him. “I can make those over-easy eggs just how you like them. I even have English muffins, and you love those.”
Help, he prayed.Help him. Help the Coopers. Please make sure no one gets hurt.
Another step, and his father let the knife droop a little. Spencer still had several yards between him and Ernest, and he didn’t dare rush him. The man could turn mean with the flip of a switch, and being backed into a corner brought out a rage in him which Spencer had only witnessed one other time.
A sense of calm overcame him. He wasn’t going to get cut this time. No one was.
He lowered his hands and increased his pace. “Do you want coffee or hot chocolate?” He reached his dad in a few strides, and he could’ve reached out and touched him. Taken the bag. Knocked the knife from his fingers.
He simply looked at him. “Dad,” he whispered.
In one swift breath, the malice in Ernest’s eyes turned on. Spencer threw his hands up, knocking the knife to the side with one of them as his dad swiped it toward him. He turned his face away instinctively, and his other hand caught his father in the chest.
He went flying backward, and Spencer continued his forward motion, something roaring through him he hadn’t even known he possessed. Shouts sounded around him. A siren wailed. Pain emanated in his left forearm.
None of it mattered.
Ernest hit the fence, and Spencer had one arm across his chest, pinning him in place in the very next moment. They both breathed hard, and Spencer stared into the watery gray eyes of the one person who was supposed to be good in this world. The one person who should’ve been there for him, no matter what. The one person who should’ve taught him how to be a man, how to grieve after the loss of a loved one, and how to treat women right.
“Spencer,” his dad begged, and Spencer realized he had one fist cocked back, as if he’d hit his father.
He dropped his hand, but he didn’t give Ernest an inch. Lee and Will arrived, and a whole bunch more footsteps sounded behind them.
Spencer couldn’t move, though he heard someone say the knife had been cleared and someone else said they had the money bag. It wasn’t until Wayne Cooper touched Spencer’s shoulder and said, “It’s okay, son. You can let him go,” that Spencer was able to remove his arm from his dad’s chest and let him straighten from the fence.
He fell back a step and then two, feeling like the ground beneath his feet would vanish at any moment. He actually prayed that it would, so he could be taken from this situation. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to explain anything to the family who’d taken him in, fed him at their dinner table, and given him so much.
He walked away as the cops arrived and began arresting Ernest. Someone called his name, but he couldn’t turn back to see who. He made it to his truck, plenty of eyes on him, and even though the road was blocked, he just went over the grass and around.
