I was going to kill whoever was behind giving her meth. She’d never taken it before, so why now? What had changed?
I shook the thought out of my head and focused on Zayn again. Smirking, I leaned against the threshold of the bathroom and crossed my arms. My pecs looked a lot bigger now that they were pressed together by my biceps. “What are you gonna do about it...Daddy?”
He grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me toward the living room. I nearly tripped over my feet as he shoved me onto the foldout. I barely bounced on the thin mattress. He pointed at me.
“Stay, boy, or I’ll give you another spanking with the wooden spoon. Or perhaps my hand.” He left me there, and I shivered. Luckily, Mom kept an extra toothbrush in the bottom drawer of the bathroom, which I’d always thought was stupid because we were poor as fuck and never had visitors. She’d said it was in case Ginny ever had friends stay the night. By the sounds coming from the next room, he was searching the vanity and had probably found it.
I waited as he’d ordered, my knees pressed together tightly, which made me feel like I was in trouble back in school. Getting detentions happened a lot to me and I’d also been suspended a few times for fighting. I’d never been great at paying attention in classes or understanding what the hell the teachers were talking about, so I gave up. As soon as I hit senior year, I dropped out.
Looking around the room, I noticed the beer cans were gone and I frowned. I hadn’t even realized when I’d first woken and stumbled to the bathroom, my ass still stinging from the hits I’dreceived last night. But now that I was wide awake and seeing the trailer for the first time with fresh eyes, I stiffened.
I didn’t speak, afraid of the words getting stuck in my throat, and waited for Zayn to come out. As soon as he was back near the couch, I looked at him.
“Why?”
He blinked down at me, confused. “Why what, boy? Why am I so good-looking? Why is my name Zayn? Why am I not getting you naked again and drilling your perfectly muscular ass?”
I waved around the trailer. “It’s clean.”
“Ah.” He tugged at his shirt, the same one from last night, and fell onto the foldout beside me. Grunting, he glared at the mattress but didn’t say anything about it. “I decided to help.”
“Why?” I demanded again with more force. Panic rose in my throat, clogging my airway and forcing me to choke. I scratched angrily at my throat, and he seized my wrist with wide eyes.
“Hey, hey, stop. Stop, boy!”
Desire for pain bled into me. There was no fight to be had. Not right now. And I had a feeling if I asked him to hurt me again, he’d say no because there was concern on his face.
“You shouldn’t have touched anything,” I hissed.
It was still early in the morning and the activity around this park started late. We had a lot of neighbors who worked night shifts in both employment and hitting the alcohol or drug scene. Waking anyone up would cause unnecessary drama. I fuckinghateddrama.
“This was her. She did this and she should’ve—” No. She couldn’t clean it up. She wasdead. Fucking dead as a doornail. My mother, the one who raised me and made my childhood happy. The one who gave my boo-boos kisses when I hurt myself and made my favorite blueberry pancakes on the mornings she wasn’t at work as a nurse. My mother—dead.
Ginny never experienced that version of Mom. She never knew how happy Mom had once been. She’d been a great parent. And I fucking hated all this shit. This life. How did everything turn to crap?
“Boy?” Zayn’s warm palm on my cheek brought me crashing down to reality, and I sucked in a deep breath as I looked at him. His green eyes burned with compassion, and I felt it down to my core, reaching for a soul I wasn’t sure I had. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but believe me when I tell you I understand how you feel. I lost my mother. And my father.”
I wanted to ask him how, but his expression said he wouldn’t tell me. His gaze shuttered and there was something intense hiding in the darkness. My chest squeezed because, as weird as it sounded, seeing the danger inside him was hot. I recognized it because I felt it every day of my life. Living in this trailer park, you were walking a fine line, caught between doing illegal shit to survive or trying to earn money the right way. Some people didn’t have a choice. Fighting at Uhlig’s amateur night was my drug.
“I want to find out who sold her the meth.” I hardened my jaw.
A gleam returned to his eyes and it was almostexcited. “How are you going to do that?”
I had some ideas. The guys around here didn’t entirely trust me. They knew I didn’t deal in any drugs, and while I wasn’t a rat, they weren’t a fan of me, either. I spent my time around the park taking care of my sister, and I had one rule when it came to the druggies: stay away from Ginny and Bernadette, her pit bull, or they’d be in trouble. So, I wasn’t sure if they’d talk to me at all, but it was worth a shot.
I patted his chest. “You need to stay here. They won’t say a word with a stranger around. Got it?”
He brushed a hand through his auburn hair and inclined his head. “Fine, boy, but if I hear one sign of trouble, I’m coming.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can fucking handle myself, Daddy. I don’t need you to fight my battles.”
Ignoring his huff, I shot to my feet and slammed the door open. I still needed to get Ginny, but she could wait until after I had a talk with these shitheads. She had Bernadette with her because Mrs. Carmine always loved that dog, and that meant Ginny would be safe no matter what. Bernadette would protect that little girl with her life.
I made sure to close the door behind me before I glanced around the park, taking in the quietness. It always got rowdy at night, but the morning, especially around eight, like now, was a graveyard. I knew one person who’d be awake, though. He never slept much, too high on whatever drugs he fed himself.
I took the dirt path, walking past quiet trailers to reach another row. Manky’s home was close to Cider Mill Creek, and whenever the water broke its banks, his trailer and the ones around it always went under. I was glad we didn’t live on this side at least. One of my old friends, Shep, had before he’d managed to get out of Dodge.
Sure enough, Manky was sitting in one of his lawn chairs, laid out and legs spread like he thought he was some god. Dressed in nothing but a fucking white bathrobe that he stole from who the fuck knew where. To my surprise, a couple of his friends were lazing around him. Sparks had a joint caught between his thumb and forefinger and he was staring at it as though it held all the answers to the universe. Maybe it did.
