Page 28 of One Night Years Ago

Then he groaned in pain.

“How many times did they hit you before I arrived?”

He shrugged. His eyes were closed.

“Do you want to press charges?” She thought of her father, of James, of how much they’d lost.

“I’m not pressing charges, Natalie. Just take me home. Please.”

She leaned over to look at the side of his head. “Your ear’s bleeding. I should take you to the hospital first.”

“No hospitals. I don’t like hospitals.” He touched the side of his head gingerly. “My eardrum’s burst. It’s happened before. Not much they can do at the hospital, it’ll heal just as well at home.”

“What about your shoulder?”

“I just want to go home, please. I need to be there … for Jesse and my mother.”

“Is that why you got in the car with them? To get them away from the farm?” she asked softly.

“Stop trying to make me into a better man than I am,” he said, moving his hand away from hers. “Either take me home or let me out. I can walk.”

She drove him to the farm in silence. It was dark when they arrived. He rushed into the house and came back a minute later, looking relieved.

“They’re both sleeping,” he said. He leaned heavily against the side of her patrol car.

“So you’re really living in the barn?” She put her hand around his waist again and walked with him in that direction.

“How did you know where to find me?” he asked.

“My father’s car still has a tracker. From the time he was sheriff. When I saw the four of them were missing and couldn’t get ahold of you, I decided to look for them.”

“I’m glad you did. I think they would have eventually killed me.”

“You weren’t fighting back.”

“I’m tired of fighting, Sheriff.”

“But you fought when James was going to hit me.”

“I can’t let you become collateral damage again. Not as long as I breathe.”

She felt tears come to her eyes and blinked hard to distract herself.

"Is this where you've been living?" she said, looking at the dusty barn.

He looked up towards a lofted space.She went up the ladder. To say the space was bare was an understatement. There was a single bed in the corner covered with a crisp white sheet. A small pile of books lay by the side of the bed.

"You like to read?"

"Does that surprise you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"I'm fine," he said but fished out a small tin from under the bed and brought it to her. There was nowhere to sit except the bed. She sat down gingerly, half expecting him to refuse her when she patted the space next to her.

“Your nose is broken,” she said unnecessarily.

“I can feel it. Hand me that mirror. I can set it.”