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Solomon had met some girl while we were out clubbing two weekends ago, and it was instant love for both of them. As weird as it seemed to me to just fall for someone like they did each other, I was glad he was happy. And she was understanding about his predicament.
Not to mention, the girl had a hatred for anything Christian. She immediately had a little approval from me for that. I wasn’t sure if they’d last, to be honest, but at least Solomon had a pussy to lose himself in for a little while.
Young love rarely lasted anymore, especially with a boy like Solomon, who was desperately seeking an escape.
“Sounds good. I’m almost there. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I hung up and dropped my phone back into the cup holder. “Remember to pick me up at seven,” I reminded Solomon. “Can’t be late for Sunday dinner.”
I fucking hated Sunday dinners, but not showing up was just asking for trouble and conflict. And I didn’t have the energy for either today.
He nodded. “I know. Trust me, I didn’t forget the last time.”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel again, my knuckles turning white. Father had waited until I was gone to school the next day, and then he took Solomon out of school on the pretense of an unexpected doctor’s visit, and he beat the shit out of him.
All for missing a fucking Sunday dinner.
I’d come home to find my little brother lying on his bed, curled in a ball, his face bloody, crying into his pillow, using it to muffle his sobs. Father and Mother were both mysteriously missing, no doubt wary of my reaction. I’d dressed Solomon, cleaned him up, and took him to the hospital two towns over to make sure nothing was broken and he wasn’t bleeding internally.
I’d barely held myself together the entire time.
Solomon begged me not to retaliate, and it had taken every bit of my restraint not to. Instead, Solomon begged me to just play along, to continue doing everything Father wanted, and continue to pretend to agree with everything he said and did so we could continue saving money and leave safely.
We stayed with Ezra for two nights after that since his parents were out of town. Solomon needed a safe place to recover a little, and I knew he’d feel safest with both me and Ezra there, guarding him. And we sure as hell protected him. One of us wasalwaysawake.
I leaned my head back against my headrest, blowing out a harsh breath. “He’s not fucking touching you again, you hear me?” I rumbled, glancing at my little brother out of the corner of my eye.
He shrugged. “We’ll be free soon enough,” he quietly spoke, looking out the window next to him as we hit the interstate.
Knowing he was resigned to being beat fucking lit a fire inside me that burned and left the taste of acid in my mouth.
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t snap at him. I’d snap atanyonebut my little brother. He got enough of that shit at home.
“Soon,” I promised, my voice quiet. “I promise.”
He nodded in understanding.
* * *
I watched as Solomon pulled off in my car, waiting until I could no longer see him before I slipped inside the garage, heading toward my locker. Once I was changed into a pair of grease-stained jeans and a tight, black t-shirt, I stepped into the work area, rolling my shoulders. Ezra was already working on a bike, but he looked up at me.
“Shit,” I whispered, staring at his bruised cheek. Rage rolled through me, but I bit it back. Ezra knew how to fight his own battles, and he preferred to handle his shit himself. “Your dad?”
He just shrugged. He didn’t like talking about the shit that happened to him, which I understood. I didn’t either. But fuck, it made my blood pump with pure hatred for this fucking religion and both our parents when I saw bruises like his.
“What’d you supposedly do this time?” I asked him.
He snorted. “Turned down another potential wife.”
Christ.
He looked up at me again. “Saw that pretty young thing they were setting you up with today. She’s gorgeous as fuck.”
I shrugged, hiding the surprising jealousy that thrummed through my bloodstream. Didn’t even make sense that I felt so fucking jealous that he was talking about her like that because one, she didn’t mean a goddamn thing to me, and two, even if she did, Ezra was gay.
Bro wasn’t the least bit attracted to women. As he liked to say, he was strictly dickly. He couldn’t even get hard for a woman. He’d tried; trust me. But it just didn’t happen for him.
I grabbed the tools I needed from the toolbox and sat in front of the other bike. “Yeah, she’s fine as fuck. Bit too frigid for my tastes, but I’ll go along until I can make it believable enough to our parents that we don’t work.” It wouldn’t take me long. A lie about her being uncooperative or maybe us just not being compatible enough for a lifelong marriage.
