Instantly, I lock my eyes on Eden. She is sitting rigid on the edge of the couch, staring back at the three of us. The expression in my eyes is full of desperation. I am mentallybeggingher to think of something, to not crack under the pressure, to lie for me.
“Um, he dropped me off at Meghan’s and then he changed his plans,”she finally says, racing through her words. She can’t look at me as she lies. “He hung out with the guys instead.”
My shoulders sink with relief, and I think it’ll be enough to calm Tiffani’s anger, so I reach out to touch her arm as I step closer to her. I’ll need to kiss her ass for a while. “See?”
“Don’t talk to me,” Tiffani growls, pulling her arm free and shoving me away from her. My eyes widen in surprise.Why is she still mad? “Eden, come with me,” she orders. “We need to talk to Rachael and Meghan. Right now.”
I watch in disbelief as Eden jumps up from the couch and Tiffani grabs her wrist, pulling her out into the hall and toward the front door. Tiffani rams her shoulder into my chest as she passes, and she refuses to so much as glance at me as they leave the house. What the hell is her problem? I have an alibi—a fake one, sure—so she has no reason to still be angry at me. Is it because I’ve been ignoring her calls? And what the fuck does she need Eden for? NowI’mfurious too.
They disappear out the front door and it slams shut behind them, leaving me breathing heavily with rage in the hall. Silence fills the house until Mom places her hand on my shoulder and says, “Oh, Tyler.”
I snap my eyes over to hers. “What?”
“I hope you don’t drive that girl insane,” she says with a frown. She glances at the front door, then back at me. Is she seriously taking Tiffani’s side right now? “It seems she’s always getting upset with you. I hope you’re not the type to play with a girl’s head, Tyler.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Mom,” I spit at her, aggressively shaking her hand off my shoulder. She has no idea what sort of hell Tiffani has put me through for years. Tiffani is far, far from innocent.
Mom’s face falls. “Wow,” she says. Her expression is blank and sheblinks at me, stunned that I’ve cursed at her like that. I couldn’t help it. My temper is way too short.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
“I’m going grocery shopping, then picking up Chase,” she interrupts, walking away from me. She won’t meet my eyes now either. She only grabs her purse and her car keys from the hall table and heads for the front door. She maintains a hardened expression, despite how much I know I’ve just hurt her. “If you need me, then too bad,” she calls over her shoulder, then slams the front door behind her.
“Fuck!” I finally yell out loud. Why can’t I control myself? Mom doesn’t deserve the way I just spoke to her. I shove my hand back through my hair and sink down at the foot of the stairs, grinding my teeth as I grab my phone from my pocket. I’m so pissed off that my hands are trembling with rage as I pull up Declan’s number, and I send him a message that I have sent so many times before:Today is getting messy. Keep the good stuff on standby for me.
45
Five Years Earlier
I almost forgot just how much bruises can hurt. They decorate my skin in shades of blue and purple, running around my shoulders and my arms, and there’s a large cut along my ribs from falling into the corner of the desk in my bedroom two nights ago. It has started again. Dad is always mad now. I think he always has been but was just able to keep his temper in check for a month. It was amazing while it lasted, but I should have known it was too good to be true. He is back to his old ways now. I think it’s even worse, actually. Every single night for almost a week now, Dad has thrown me around. I have taught myself to zone out again, because every night it seems to get worse. It’s like Dad has a month’s worth of pent-up rage that is finally exploding.
I haven’t been focusing in classes this week. I’ve been acting out again, and Mr. Hayes has already called me back to his office for another talk later this afternoon. I feel sick with nerves at the thought of it. What do I tell him this time? That the only reason I straightened up over the past month is because I was happy for once? And I was hopeful? And I felt safe? And now I’m not happy, nor hopeful, nor safe?
It’s lunch on Thursday, and we are back at our usual table in thecafeteria, and I am back to being the quiet one sitting at the end of the bench. My friends are talking, they are laughing, but I am tuning them out. My gaze is locked on a random spot on the table, my shoulders are slumped low, my breathing is deep.
I’ve decided: I hate Dad.
I trusted him when I shouldn’t have. I believed him, but that was a mistake. If he really loved me, he wouldn’t have broken that promise. Hell, if he loved me, he wouldn’t have ever needed to make such a promise in the first place. He doesn’t love me enough not to hurt me.
So why am I protecting him?
Why am I covering up his mistakes on his behalf? Why do I tell people that I tripped, that I fell down the stairs, that I got hurt playing in the yard with Dean and Jake? Why am I accepting these bruises? These cuts? These scars? Why am I living with them when I can get it all to stop by justtellingsomeone? Anyone. But would they even believe me? Dad’s the respected business guy, the one in the shirt and the tie. The one with the Mercedes and the charming smile. Would anyone believe me over him? I’m just a kid, but I’ve been lying for so long that I wonder if maybe it’s too late to turn it all around.
My head is a mess. My thoughts are all over the place, but slowly, a new realization sinks in. It’s not Dad that I’m protecting. It’s Mom, and it’s my brothers. I don’t want to tear our family apart, to break us when they are all so happy. Would Mom ever forgive me for that? I don’t want her to get mad at me too.
Mr. Hayes told me that I could talk to him about anything. Wouldhebelieve me? Maybe I could tell him that I’m scared to go home after school. Maybe he could figure out why. Maybe that way, I’m not telling.
“Tyler,” someone says, elbowing me hard in the ribs, right into thatcut. I immediately flinch away, tearing my eyes up from the table and glancing sideways at Dean. “Did you hear what Blake said? Are you coming or not?”
“What?” I blink fast, my cheeks heating with humiliation as I glance around the table at everyone’s gazes on me. Tiffani even rolls her eyes and exchanges a look with Rachael. I really need to stop zoning out around my friends before they decide that there’s something wrong with me. I look up at Blake Montgomery, hovering by our table with one hand on the strap of his backpack and his eyes boring into mine. “Coming where?” I ask him. When did he even approach us? Crap, I reallyhavebeen staring off into nowhere.
“Some of us are getting together after school to play ball out on the field,” Blake explains. He’s a friendly giant, and even though he’s an eighth grader, he always says hey to us in the hallways. I think he’s friends with Jake. “So are you in?” he asks with a smile, but then it quickly falters. He makes a face, glancing at Dean and Jake with uncertainty and then back to me again. “Oh…wait,” he backtracks. “Your dad doesn’t let you play. Forget it. Sorry.”
Instead of disappointment at the reminder, a new emotion floods through my veins. It’s anger, and I can feel it bubbling inside of me, not at Blake but at Dad. I grind my teeth together, but it isn’t enough to stop my fists from balling together, trembling from the intensity. It’s only a split second, a fleeting moment where everything inside of me snaps like an elastic band that can’t take the pressure any longer, but it’s enough. I rise up out of my seat and swing my fist straight into Blake’s face.
“Tyler!” the table gasps at once.
Blake falls back onto the ground, staring up at me through bewildered, stunned eyes as he reaches up to rub his jaw, but I am enragednow. I am seeing red. I am seeing Dad’s smile in my head, feeling his bruises, feeling his hands on my shoulders. It’s like a fire lights me up all at once, and I just can’t take it anymore. I throw myself at Blake on the ground, slamming my fists into him over and over again, my eyes squeezed shut.
