“It doesn’t all have to fall on your shoulders.” I turn back to Dad. “Maybe a journalist could take an interest?”
He nods, tapping notes into his phone. “There’s at least one who regularly deals with historic abuse stories. I’m sure she’ll be a far gentler contact than most.”
I remain at Avon’s side, offering gentle touches of support when I feel her shivering, wanting to do more but walking a tightrope, trying not to misstep. If it were my choice, I’d stay close to her for the rest of the day, ensuring she’s as fine as she keeps claiming. But when Ant says he’s leaving and offers to give her a ride home, she jumps to her feet.
“Thank you,” she says again while I stand in the doorway. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if the call hadn’t gone to you.”
My arms go around her, a gentle hug, and as she withdraws, I press a light kiss to her temple.
When I pull back, questions swim in her eyes and I wish we were alone, wanting to drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness, for another chance. If she were here under better circumstances, I would.
My throat pulls tight as I watch her get into Ant’s vehicle, waving before he turns to head out the gate.
I’m restless, wanting to be the one to drive her, to ensure she got home safely. To deliver her into the careful hands of her mother and press another kiss to her temple, to her lips before I turn to go.
The thrill of having arrived in time to protect her fades as I’m kept from doing more.
Once she leaves, my nervous energy needs somewhere to go. I move downstairs, getting onto the treadmill, playing white noise as I run to the limits of my endurance, then bump the speed faster, the angle higher.
And when I’ve pushed myself to the edge of physical exhaustion, I return to the list I’m reworking the way Avon asked. Trying my hardest to be the boy she needs me to be instead of the empty shell I am without her.
AVON
My head is buzzing, my nerves shredded, and each time the redhead giving me a lift home glances my way, I’m reminded of the video.
“Shit,” he says, pulling to a stop at the lights and tugging a bag from the back seat. “Forgot that I’ve got a new phone for you.”
“Does it come with extra software already loaded or was that only for a special occasion?”
I wait for him to frown or sputter a denial or maybe get angry. Instead, he bursts out laughing, eyes warming to the same temperature as his ginger freckles. “It’s sealed. You can swap it at the shop for another if you prefer. The receipt’s in the bag.”
“Mm-hm.”
“My sister would happily kill me if I did anything to hurt you again.” He indicates for a turn, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, then giving me another sideways glance. “Go ahead. Ask me anything you want to, and I’ll answer.”
“Was the video your idea or Zane’s?”
“Mine. Zane wasn’t all that coherent after. The NDA was my idea, too.”
I scrunch my nose at the reminder. “You knew he’d hurt me. Why would you ever do something like that?”
There’s kindness in his eyes but he doesn’t offer an apology. “Because he’s my friend and my client and he was scared.”
“And you do anything people tell you for money?”
He concentrates on the road ahead, pursing his lips before he answers. “There are men in this town who would have paidme to kill you and your mother to safeguard them over less.” The matter-of-fact way he says it makes the statement a hundred times worse. While my stomach twists into knots, he gives me another quick glance. “I don’t work for them even though they’d pay better.”
“And what if I killed myself over it?”
“I don’t deal in hypotheticals.” We’re nearly at my house but he pulls to the kerb, stopping beside a small park. “If you want to head down that road, I’d counter that Zane could die in prison. He’s hot tempered and used to buying his way out of trouble and neither of those work well behind bars. He might kill himself to avoid going because he’s already struggling and has been for a while.” He’s quiet for a few moments, then adds, “A video seemed reasonable.”
“Because you’re friends.”
The words could be interpreted as bitter, but my tone isn’t. Despite what he helped Zane do, I’m mostly curious. Ant only looks about five years older than me, but his job is a completely foreign concept.
“When Maddox gave Evie a rough time at school, Zane was the only one who stepped forward to help. He was kind and I appreciate him for it.”
“Is this another ‘Zane is great’ speech? Because Maddox already gave me one of those.”
