17
WAR
The brisk noonbreeze did little to cool my anger. I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets. The raucous noise of an engine revving dragged me out of the past I fought to leave behind. Then the car tore down the street a moment later, and I knew Justin had left.
I should have just shut the hell up like I usually did instead of letting him goad me to react. While I was used to his snide remarks, his disrespect to an amazing man like Caleb stuck in my craw. Worse was what he said.
My files were sealed because I’d been a minor. Everyone at the trailer park knew it was an accidental death. But Justin struck the nail on the head.
Now Charli knew. And she hadn’t sought me out.
Not that I could blame her. It had been my greatest fear because all Justin had accused me of was true. I might have been a child, but I remembered everything…
The door to the trailer slammed shut. The sound had me jumping to my feet from the small metal table I sat at, my hunger forgotten. Fear twisting my stomach, I moved closer to my mother, who was stirring leftover stew on the single-plate, portable stove.
“Woman, my money!” My father loomed over us, his eyes red-rimmed. Early afternoon, and he was already drunk. As usual.
Mom eyed him warily, her blue eyes dark in her thin, pale face.
His gaze settled on the hook where mom’s bag hung. He snatched it, breaking the strap. Mom stood there, stiff, while he upended her things on the metal table, found her wallet, and pulled out the few bills she had. “Where’s the rest?” he demanded.
“Stuart, it’s all I have. I have to buy food.” She reached to take it back.
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me!” He slapped her hard, the sound a thundering crack in the trailer. She stumbled, but he grabbed her hair, yanking her back, and she cried out. “I put a roof over your head, you can fucking bring in the money for what we need.”
I remained near the stove, hands clenched as she tried to free herself, her falling tears stabbing me like knives in my chest.
“Where is it?”
“Leave her alone!” I yelled, breaking my promise to her to never interfere, no matter what he did, after the last beating that left me bleeding. I dove into him, hitting him with punches and kicks. He lurched back, finally letting her go, and I continued punching him. He shoved me hard, and I hit the wall of the trailer. Pain rattled inside my head.
“Eli, stop.” Mom grabbed me when I lunged for him again. “Don’t, baby—”
“I will kill him!” I cried, my rage surging. “He hurt you—”
“War?” a voice called out.
“Want to take me on, you little punk?” he sneered, grabbing a knife and pointing it at me. “Hiding behind a woman. I’ll slice you, you little bastard.”
My mind cracked. I dove for him—
“War?” A hand shook me harder now.
I inhaled sharply, yanked back from memories burned forever in my mind.
But I couldn’t face Charli. Didn’t want to see the revulsion—or worse—the fear in her eyes.
“Hey,” she said softly, stroking my arm. “Are you okay?”
I fucking wasn’t.
“Yeah,” I said abruptly. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. How could a killer like me have someone like her? Charli deserved so much better. “Let’s go.”
I could feel her gaze on me as we said goodbye to Caleb. He appeared drawn and tired. But as usual, I withdrew into myself. How could I comfort him when I had nothing to give? I couldn’t make anything better, not for him, not for me. And certainly not Charli.
She reached out and hugged him.
* * *
