I clean well into the night, my stomach growling relentlessly.
I suck in a gasping breath. Fumbling with my bag, I dig out my phone.
“Hello, gorgeous. You on your way home?” Trey answers and his baritone voice and predictable rambling soothes my nerves. “What are you hungry for? I’m thinking pasta tonight.”
“Trey,” is all I say, but he can hear it in my voice.
“What’s wrong? Where are you?” I can hear him moving through the house on the other end of the line.
“I’m at the hospital. Bad shift. Can you come get me?”
“I’m on my way,” he says. I hear his truck keys jingle softly.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Knowing he’s on his way, I tell myself I’ll be okay. Daryl hasn’t shown up or texted me again about the five grand, but the not knowing is almost worse. I’m waiting for him to make a move, unsure whether he truly will or not. My stomach twists in knots as I fight tears, unable to fathom why,how, anyone could ever intentionally scare or hurt their child.
Trey makes it to the hospital in record time. I’m waiting on the bench out front for him. He jumps out and opens my door before I can argue it’s not necessary.
When he turns out of the parking lot, he reaches over to hold my hand on the center console. “What happened?” He doesn’t hesitate to ask, which tells me how worried he is. Trey has always been careful not to push too far, ask questions he knows I won’t answer or would make me uncomfortable, and I appreciate that. I’m sure he knows there is a lot I don’t tell him. He looks away from the street to glance at me, but I can’t meet his eyes.
“A kid came in today who was clearly being abused by his piece of shit father, and I had to sit by and watch as they cast his broken arm and let him leave.”
“What the fuck? How did the hospital allow that?”
“We followed all the standard procedures. Nurses and doctors are mandatory reporters, but once we submit our paperwork to CPS, there is nothing more we can do—it’s in their hands. They’ll contact them and investigate in the next forty-eight hours, but I doubt anything changes for that family.”
“Wow, I can’t believe that. I’m so sorry, Jessie.” His thumb rubs a gentle circle on the back of my hand. “Who does that toa kid?” he continues. “How could anyone treat their own family that way?”
“You’d be surprised,” I mutter as we pull into the driveway.
Trey’s head snaps my direction, reading more into that statement than I intended.
I grab my bag and open the truck door, desperate to escape the questions I see behind his eyes before he can ask.
“Wait. Jessie, were you treated that way?” He shuts the truck door behind him as I unlock the back door. “Jessie, hold up.”
I push through the door, Trey on my heels. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about the kid with the broken arm who got sent home with the monster who did it to him.”
“And I hate that there wasn’t anything anyone could do to stop that, but now I’m asking about you. You were white as a ghost when I picked you up. Is that why today was so hard—why you called me?”
I guess this is the day he starts pushing for more. I knew it would come eventually. He isn’t going to let this go. Between my father’s unwelcome visit, the texts, the nightmares, and town rumors, I’m sure he has questions. I haven’t told him any details about my childhood because I don’t want him to look at me differently, and I know he will, but today has been too much.
“Yes!” I snap. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
“Jessie . . .” he says my name so quietly I barely hear it. But it’s not what he said, it’s the look on his face.Pity.
He reaches for me, but I step back. I rub my hands up and down my face, frustrated with this entire day. “That’s exactly why I never talk about this. That look, right there.”
“What look?”
“Pity! Pity for the trailer trash girl whose daddy never loved her. Well, I’m sorry we don’t all get to grow up in happy suburban families and live out our dreams.”
He rears back, like I slapped him. That was too far, but I’m upset and he’s pushing me further than ever before. My eyes burn as I turn and break into a run for the bedroom. I don’t get far before he catches me, but he doesn’t say anything.
Trey turns me, pulls me into his chest, and hugs me. His arms wrap tightly around me. The steady rhythm of his heart beats against my cheek. I relax into him, knowing I don’t deserve his comfort but taking it, nonetheless.
A minute passes before I speak. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I hate when people find out how I was raised, and they either look at me like I am the same scum as my parents or look at me like I’m a wounded kitten.”
“I didn’t mean to look at you that way. But, Jessie, itissad to hear that someone I deeply care for has been hurt that way. For me, it’s not about how you were raised. It’s about the kind of person you are now. And the way you care about that kid shows you are a million times better than your parents. Besides, Dot trulyraisedyou, and she’s fucking great.”
