“Guys, it’s okay. I’m fine,” Eli says from where he’s listening in the hallway. He hasn’t looked like a little boy in a long time, but with his shoulders hunched and his head lowered, he looks younger than his seventeen years.
“Go to your room and stay out of it,” Dad yells, and Eli drags his feet back down the hall.
“Don’t yell at him. He’s not the issue,” I say.
“That’s right. He’s not. It’s you. Now I’m going to tell you one more time,”—he stomps toward me and shoves me in the chest—“get your ass out my house.”
I feel everything all at once. Resentment for what should’ve been my most fun years. Anger for being judged on something I can’t fucking control. Bitterness for having my own father treat me like scum. All of it. I shove him back. His nostrils flare, his eyes widen, and he breathes out heavily from his mouth. He charges at me, throwing his shoulder into my gut. We land on the ground, him on top of me. He throws a punch that makes perfect contact with my cheekbone. I feel a gush of warmth stream down my face.
I don’t want to hurt the old man, but I’m not going to lie here and take it either. I block his swings and roll to my side, hoping he’ll be forced off me, but he’s not. I’m stronger than he is, but he’s got at least seventy pounds on me, making him hard to move. We wrestle around, each of us trying to get the upper hand.
“You’re not my kid,” he grits out, throwing another punch that lands on my ear. Pain explodes from inside my head and all I can do is try to block his attack. Apparently, I’m not the only one who has pent up emotion.
I sock him in the gut, knocking the air from him, but it does nothing to remove his formidable weight from on top of me. He drives his fist into my jaw and I cross my arms over my face to block future hits. I don’t want to hurt the old man, but he’s giving me little choice.
The next thing I hear are sirens and the front door being thrown open. Someone drags Pops off me. It’s the sheriff, Jaxson. Pops tries to throw a punch at him, but Jax backs up and holds his hands out, clearly surprised.
“Mr. Dixon, this is not a road you want to go down,” he says.
Realization hits Pops and his body slumps, his face falling, and the fight visibly leaving him.
“I-I’m sorry, Sheriff,” he mutters.
“It’s okay. Why don’t you go have a seat in the living room, and I’ll be there in a minute.” Jax pats Pops’ shoulder. As soon as he’s out of sight, he approaches me. “You need an ambulance?”
“No, I’m good. Just a little blood.” I lift the hem of my shirt up and wipe away the stream of blood. “I have a first aid kit in my car.”
“Let me go grab it. Trunk?”
I nod and he walks out the front door. My adrenaline crashes, and I realize the extent of what just happened. This is Jerry Springer shit. I never in a million years thought I’d be in a physical altercation with my own dad. I’d gone so long making excuses for his behavior, and I realize now that it was self-preservation. I think I knew in the back of my mind this is how things would go if my sexuality wasn’t an idea any longer, but a reality.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” Eli’s small voice comes from the darkened hallway. He must be the reason for the cops.
“Come here.” I manage to pull myself off the ground and stand just in time for Eli to tackle me, hugging me around the middle. I pat his back and tell him it’s okay.
“Bo, I got your kit.” Jax holds a plastic red tote out to me.
“Thanks, man.”
“You want to tell me what happened here tonight?” Jax looks uncomfortable.
“Just a little spat. It’s fine,” I say.
“It wasn’t a spat. Pops attacked you,” Eli defends.
“What were you fighting over?”
“Well, I’m gay and Pops doesn’t seem to like that fact.” I speak freely because the sheriff is gay too. He came out not that long ago and is living with some developer.
“Shit.” Jax rubs at the back of his neck. “Do you want to press charges?”
“Technically, I don’t live here anymore. He told me to leave, but I wanted to have a conversation. Does that make it my fault?” I pry myself away from Eli and crack open the tote. I pull out some gauze and apply it to my cheekbone.
“A judge would be the one to decide that. But I can take him in to put some distance between you two.”
“No. I’ll go, and that’ll solve everything,” I say.
“Can I come with you?” Eli asks.
“I don’t think so. You’re only seventeen.” I rub his head affectionately.
“What if he comes after me too?” Fear shines in his eyes. I don’t blame him. That was heavy shit for a kid.
“He won’t. It’s me he has a problem with.”
“Tell you what,” Jax interjects. “If I get your dad to agree to let Eli go with you for the night, do you have somewhere he can stay?”
I think about Lance’s condo and wonder how he’d feel about me showing up with a teenager. Even if he doesn’t want us there, I’d rent a room at the B&B before I said no to Eli.
“Yeah. I got a place.”
Jax looks curious, but doesn’t interfere. “Okay. I’ll go see what I can do.”
After he’s gone, I turn to my kid brother. “I’m sorry. I should’ve left when he asked me to. This is my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. You’re the only one who has been there for me. I can’t be here without you.”
“That’s not necessarily something I can control. Maybe in a few months when you turn eighteen.”
His face falls.
“All right, guys. Eli, you’re free to go with Bo tonight,” Jax says. “Just make sure you’re at school tomorrow.”
Eli nods and darts to his room, presumably to pack.
“I’m sorry you got mixed up in this.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Jax opens the front door. “Coming from someone who lived a lot of years hiding who he is for the sake of his parents, don’t do it anymore. Be yourself. Love whoever the hell you want to. Fuck ’em.”
“I’m trying. I really am.”
“And the guy is worth it?” he asks, and I chuckle. At least he tried not to pry.
“He is. You know Dr. Miller, I’m guessing.”
“I do.”
I smile and nod. Jax returns my grin and walks out. Seconds later, Eli is at my side. We load his backpack and the first aid kit and drive away. I should call Lance and warn him, but something tells me he’ll be okay with it.
“Where are we going?” Eli asks.
“My boyfriend’s house.”
Chapter Nine
Lance
I hear the front door open and I peek around the corner from the kitchen where I’ve been attempting to make dinner. I’ve got Lane strapped to my chest in some kind of harness and she’s sound asleep. Thank God.
What I see sucks the air from my lungs. A bloody and swollen-faced Bo looks back at me, and at his side is a scrawny teenager who looks like a younger version of his big brother.