Maddox’s body jerks like he’s dry-heaving, and bile rises in my throat.
“Hey—I have to go. Text me those numbers.”
I hang up before Cynda can reply and dart across the deck toward him.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
God, this is all my fault.
Maddox heaves again as I reach him, though nothing evacuates from his insides. “Hey—” I press my hand to his arm, the other around his wrist. He’s clammy and stiff. His hair falls over his face as he drops his head.
As if he’s afraid to let me see him in whatever state he’s in.
My jaw quakes at the sight.
I want to hold him.
I want to tell him I’ll fix it.
I want to fix it.
I sink to my knees in front of him, not caring if my family looks out the window and sees us. To hell with Reed or anyone who might give us any shit.
I can’t let him be alone in this.
“Maddox?” I manage.
He doesn’t look at me. His gaze is wholly fixated on the ground. I reach for his arm. However, he sinks into a crouch before I can touch him. His arms wrap around his knees, his forehead falls against his forearm, and I feel my resolve crack when I see his body jerk.
“Maddox?”
Grief wraps around my insides as I stare at him, and I realize it’s not the first time I’ve seen him like this. The stance reminds me of the young boy I’d once sat beside on the back steps so many years ago.
The full moon is staring at us. He’s waiting for Reed to come home from piano lessons, and behind us, Tina and my dad are finishing dinner. I can see the fresh cigar mark on his hand that looks like the cigarette burn on my side. I remember wondering if he’d earned his scar for talking back as I had.
And just beneath his shaggy brown hair, I see a freshly bloodied lip.
He’s shivering, and I don’t know whether it’s from the chilly air or the burn. I don’t know what to say or how to get him to talk to me—if he even wants to.
“Dad or asshole kids?” I ask about the bloody lip, hoping the simplicity will help.
“Asshole kids,” he replies.
“And the burn?” I ask.
Maddox squirms. “Punishment for hitting the asshole kids,” he says.
I sink down on the step beside him and sigh. Reed had a dentist appointment earlier, which I know means Maddox walked home alone instead of Tina taking him home.
I look over my shoulder to find Tina feeding Koen some of the ravioli she’s made. “Haven’t been inside yet?” I ask Maddox, knowing that if he had, Tina would have had a bag of peas pressed to his face by now.
He shakes his head, sorrowful green eyes glancing my way. “Why are you hiding?” he asks me.
I glance up at the full moon. “My Walkman died,” I answer, holding up the cassette player. “I snuck around the side through my window. I can’t deal with Tina when she’s dancing in the kitchen.”
A quiet huff of amusement leaves him, a smile slipping onto his lips, and our eyes meet.
