“Can’t it wait? I’m sleeping.”
“It’ll take five minutes at the most and then you can go back to sleep.”
He grumbles a string of words I can’t quite make out.
“Keaton, you have thirty seconds to get dressed and then I’m coming in.”
“Fuck,” he mutters before I hear movement. Then, the door swings open and I’m met with a pissed-off scowl that fills a face that is the spitting image of Scott’s. “What is it?”
My son towers over me these days and takes up more space than most boys his age. Keaton may be seventeen, but he has the body of a man much older with all the muscle he’s packed onto his frame.
“Do you know what happened to Savannah last night at the party?”
His features darken. “Why?”
My brows pull together at his odd response. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because she’s got a black eye today.”
His jaw clenches and those features of his darken some more, but he doesn’t give me the answer I’m looking for. Instead, he stares silently at me.
“Keaton, I need to know what happened. Scarlett and Wilder trusted Madison to look after Savannah last night, and they’re going to want to know who caused that black eye.”
He crosses his arms, feet planted wide, and continues staring at me silently for a few moments. Finally, he says, “You’re going to have to ask Savannah. It’s not my story to tell.”
“Right, well the only problem with that is she’s not talking. And neither is Jewel. So, I’d appreciate it if you could shed some light on this for us.”
His lips press together hard as he shakes his head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. You’ll have to ask her again.”
I stare at him while my mind races with possibilities. Scott said Keaton was angry when he got home last night, and he’s still angry this morning. Savannah is two years younger than him, and the best friend of his cousin, Jewel, who he goes out of his way to protect. That connection ensures he also looks out for Savannah.
My gaze drops to his knuckles. They’re bruised.
I find his eyes again. “You got in a fight last night?”
He works his jaw again. It’s like looking at his father when he does this. “Yeah.”
“Did it have anything to do with Savannah and her black eye?”
“Yeah.”
I take a deep breath.
This can’t be good.
Keaton would never hit a girl, which means he punched a guy. Which means whatever happened to Savannah involved a boy.
Wilder is going to lose his absolute shit. Unless his wife gets to the boy first.
“Is that everything?” he asks, his arms still folded tightly over his bare chest.
“For now, yes.”
The look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t intend on getting into this with me again, and I don’t doubt that. It’s just another way he takes after Scott. Keaton only ever says what’s needed to get his point across, and when he doesn’t want to discuss something, there’s not much that can persuade him otherwise. He’s more about the physical. That’s his preferred way of communicating. With both the males in my life, I’ve had to learn how to read their body language a lot of the time.
I leave him and head into the kitchen. I’m wide awake now, so there’s no way I’m going back to sleep. I call Madison as I walk down the hallway.
