“That’s outrageous,” Mrs. Rowe scoffed just as my dad and Mr. Rowe came in from the back door.
“What’s outrageous?” Dad asked, still holding the tray of meat they’d been grilling.
“Philip told his parents that Beau was the reason he needed stitches when Philip had been trying to get Beau to fight him and tripped into some lockers. I can give you a list of students that were in the hall at that time. I’m pretty sure a teacher even saw it happen!”
Mr. Rowe cleared his throat and looked to his youngest son. “Philip?”
When he didn’t respond, I turned on him. “I do not hide behind Beau Dixon. I can stand up for myself. I can defend myself. Out of respect for your family, I refrain from doing that most times. You are the one who hides behind Beau and what he has done, and you are even more disgusting for it.”
“Savannah,” my mom whispered, disapproving.
“No!” I cried out. “I’m always letting him get away with things because of his parents and what they mean to y’all, but I’ve had enough.” I took a step closer to Philip, loving and hating that he didn’t have the guts to look at me. “I am so tired of the way you get possessive over me even though I’ve never been and will never be yours because I cannot stand you. I am tired of the way you talk to me and touch me like the disgusting creep you are.”
“Wait, you touched her?” Peter asked, voice harsh.
“What are you talking about, Savannah?” Mom asked, concern now lining her words.
“Are you gonna tell them, or should I?” I asked Philip, voice soft enough that it felt like the words were only for him, but I knew everyone else could hear with how silent the room had gotten.
He glanced up at me from under his eyelashes, looking all kinds of pissed and promising a wrath that couldn’t scare me.
I turned, my stare finding Mrs. Rowe. “Your perfect son harasses me on a near-daily basis. He has since middle school.”
“That can’t be—”
“It’s true,” I ground out, cutting her off. “He talks about how we’re gonna be together. How I’m gonna be screaming his name one day.”
“Oh God,” my mom whispered as my dad slammed down the tray he’d been holding.
“All of this while grabbing me and refusing to let me leave. No matter what I tell him, he somehow twists it around so that it means I love him, or has some hidden, sexual meaning. And on that topic,” I said, biting out each word as I glanced over my shoulder to cut a hard look at him, “Philip called the school anonymously and told them that mine and Beau’s relationship is abusive. That he rapes me.”
“Well, does he?” Mrs. Rowe asked without missing a beat.
“Are you kidding?” I yelled, not caring in the least bit about respect at that point.
“Dana,” her husband said with an irritated sigh.
“I’ve been called into the guidance counselor’s office twice a week since then because she still doesn’t believe me,” I informed them. “And Beau has been called in there a few times to talk with her and the sheriff about how to respect and treat women. Philip also wrote words like abuser and dangerous and savage all over Beau’s locker with a big Sharpie on the same day that first began. But even when Beau found out it was him, he didn’t do anything to Philip.”
“That . . .” Mr. Rowe sighed, his head shaking. “That will be dealt with along with some other things. That doesn’t change that Beau has hurt our son and others in the past.”
“I’m aware of that,” I conceded. “Clearly not as many times as Philip is making y’all believe, and he’s probably not telling y’all why. Beau’s only ever reacting to what Philip does to me . . . what Philip does to him. That day Philip punched him and tripped into the lockers? That isn’t the first time Philip has done something like that. He’s always trying to get Beau to fight because he knows Beau is the one who will get in trouble. Then there are the days Beau walks up on Philip holding me in place even though I’m trying to get away. Or when Philip grabs my butt or my boobs—”
“What?” multiple people shouted at once.
“—or runs up and tries to kiss me right in front of Beau. It kind of sets Beau off.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Peter demanded.
“I’ve been asking him that for years,” I said as I spared one last glance at the boy who was turning red with anger and embarrassment. Looking back at his mom, I tried to force back the emotion that sprang forward. “Y’all always have something bad to say about Beau. Now you’re questioning my parents’ friendship with the Dixons because of him? Because of what he’s done? What about what your son has done? A vile, spoiled brat who doesn’t understand when a girl says ‘no,’ thinks he can treat me like I’m a thing, and takes joy in ruining other peoples’ lives.”
She folded her arms, then lifted her hand to cover the tremor in her mouth.
“I know Beau has a problem with his anger. I’ve seen it, and I’ve seen how hard he tries to control it. But it’s jerks like your son who make Beau think all he’s capable of is anger, and it’s people like you who make him afraid of his anger. Who make him try so hard to suppress it until he just-just-just . . . explodes. But he’s—” I choked back a cry of frustration. “God, he is good. His heart is so kind and beautiful, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why everyone else refuses to see that.”
I hurried from the kitchen and through the house, ignoring the calls for me to stop.
By the time I reached the front door, I was running, long past caring about dinner or respecting the people that had always been like a second family to ours. Off the porch and down our long driveway that never seemed to end. Across the little stretch of road that separated our house from the Dixons’ and up their graveled drive. My stare bouncing around the front of the property the closer I got.
Sawyer running to catch a football Hunter had thrown.
Cayson sitting across the porch steps, arms folded and back propped up against the railing.
No Beau.
Sawyer saw me first. His easy smile fell along with the football, bouncing awkwardly behind him as he raced over to meet me. “You already heard?” he asked, all worry and understanding.
And it made my heart stop. Had ice splintering in my veins.
“Heard what?”
Sawyer’s light eyes went wide before he tried to cover his reaction by glancing away. He forced out a cough as he faced me again, all hints of his slip gone. “What’s going on?”
“Where’s Beau?”
“It’s uh, you know, not really a good time.”
“You okay?” Hunter asked as he came up behind him with Cayson on his heels.
“No,” I said tightly. “Where’s Beau?”
Cayson scratched at his jaw before pointing absently behind him as Hunter started to speak, but Sawyer forced out another cough and roughly shook his head.
I looked from him to Hunter and demanded, “What is going on?”
Hunter studied the ground for a moment before meeting my stare, his face creased with apology when he said, “Probably not the best time, yeah? What can we do? You look mad, are you okay?”