Her body, now rigid, angles away from me. The small space between us suddenly feels huge. I can sense her urge to bolt, so I reach for her hand, rubbing my knuckle over the back of it.
“My old man used to hit me and my brothers. It only got worse after Mom died.”
She pulls her hand onto her lap and starts fidgeting with her mug, picking at the small chip on the handle. Her eyes are trained on the floor, and my suspicions start to rise to the surface.
“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
She sniffs and shakes her head, but even an idiot could smell out this lie.
“It’s okay to tell me.”
She shakes her head again, the tendon in her neck straining tight. I want to knead that angst from her shoulders but get the sense that touching her right now would be a big mistake.
With another definitive sniff, she swipes the back of her hand under her nose and turns back to me. I’m expecting her to snatch my mug and go, but she pins me with her intense stare, her eyes wide and impossible to look away from.
“How’d you get away?” she asks. “From him. I mean, you must have done somethin’. ’Cause you talk about the ranch like it was your home. Like it was a place you lived. Did your grandpa come and take you away or somethin’? Did social services send you there?”
I go quiet, wondering how much I should tell her. The whole truth is too malignant, too vile, to dredge up from the dark recesses of my mind, but I have been remembering Grandpa turning up in Florida.
I nibble my nail, shifting on the couch and resting my elbows on my knees.
She’s still staring at me, but her gaze doesn’t feel like laser beams or anything.
I glance at her, then tell her what I can.
“After Mom died, I was so scared. Before she got sick, she used to protect us.” I shrug. “Try to, anyway. She faded really fast. They didn’t find the cancer until it was too late. They couldn’t afford treatment, and she died within three months. My old man was…” I shake my head. My throat’s swelling up, making it hard to form words, sentences… relive the truth. I close my eyes and picture Grandpa Ray, standing across the street, watching us walk home from school. My insides smile, that feeling in the ice cream shop coming back to me. “One day, pretty soon after the funeral, Grandpa showed up. We hadn’t seen him in years. I couldn’t even remember him. They used to come visit when I was a baby, but then it just stopped. I didn’t get it at the time, but when I think on it, Dad was getting worse. His depression… his… He lost his job after getting a head injury at work. It did something to him. He was always a bully, but… it just got so much worse after that. And then he started drinking.” I shake my head, forcing it all out. Reminding myself that if I’m honest, maybe it’ll give Annie the courage to do the same. “It didn’t take much to set him off. Mom was pregnant with the twins. She couldn’t leave him, but I think maybe she was embarrassed to tell her parents what was really going on. Or afraid that if she did, my dad would find out and hurt us even more.” I let out a trembling breath. “When Mom got really sick, Dad’s inner demons just amplified. So when Grandpa showed up, out of the blue, I thought maybe he was there to save us.”
“Was he?” Annie’s eyes distract me for a moment.
I gaze into those blue orbs, so intrigued, so caring.
The edge of my mouth twitches. “My dad didn’t want him around, so he kicked him off the property. But he still found us. Took us for ice cream, explained how my parents had cut him off. He wanted to know if we were all right. Said he’d got a letter from Mom, begging him to come save her boys. He said if we were unhappy or in trouble, we could come live with him and he’d teach us everything he knew.”
“And your dad just let you go?”
“No,” I rasp, my throat clogging so fast I’m not sure I can breathe.
Annie waits for me to keep going, but I can’t. Black memories freeze my tongue and I just sit there, staring at the faded yellow flowers on the wall. The air in my lungs is wispy and useless while my heart hammers me right back to a rainy night five years ago.
Annie’s short, cool fingers slide across the top of my hand, resting in between my knuckles. “You ran away,” she whispers. “He helped you run.”
“After school one day, we piled into his truck and we drove for days.”
“I’m surprised the police didn’t come after you.”
“I don’t think my dad wanted them to find us. He was… after his own type of justice.” Icicles rush through my veins.
“He found you?”
My thundering heart stutters to a stop.
“Michael? He came after you?” Annie’s voice hitches, and it pulls me back to the present.
I glance at her, recognizing the pinched fear on her face and desperately wanting to get rid of it.
Clearing my throat, I try for a smile and manage to whisper, “Not for a long time.”
“How long? I mean, you must have lived on the ranch for a while. Why didn’t he come for you right away? Did he not know where your grandpa lived or somethin’? Surely he could have tracked you down easily enough. I mean—”
“I don’t know.” I jerk off the bed and rub my hands on the sweatpants I just bought this afternoon.
She needs to leave now. I can’t do this. I can’t go back to that night.
Snatching the empty mug off the desk, I pass it to her. “Thank you for this. It was really good.”
She slowly takes it, her gaze never leaving mine. She wants more, but she’s not going to get it. I can’t believe I told her as much as I did. Grandpa made us swear we’d never tell a soul what we were doing.
I’ve kept that promise for years, and one little touch from Annie has me breaking the deal.
I clench my jaw, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I better get some sleep. Early start tomorrow.”
Annie takes her time standing up and gives me an awkward nod. She can see exactly what I’m doing. Resting the mug under her chin, she tips her head at me, her smile sad and weary. “I’m sorry your pay is so low. But I guess you know what’s it like… living with an asshole.”
My gaze hits her and we do that thing again. That common ground stare where we seem to understand each other on a level no one else ever could.
After a moment, her eyes soften and then start to sparkle. Her lips soon follow, and I drink in her smile, wanting it to wash away the darkness.
“Thank you again for what you did today. You must have a lot of your grandpa in you.”
I swallow, wishing it were true.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Michael Barrett.”
“Good night, Annie.”
She slips out of the room, and I watch her disappear into the darkness.
My churning gut is still tormenting me, but as I lie down on the bed and gaze up at the ceiling, I stuff my brain with every image of Annie I can think of. I start off with the first time she approached the booth I was sitting in to just now, where her sunshine smile made my heart feel something it never has before.
24
Hank-Freaking-Keyes
Talking to Michael last night was unnerving.