Page 110 of Striking Range

I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Whatever is inside could affect my future.

With shaky hands, I pick up the envelope and undo the clasp, pulling a packet of documents about an inch thick from the sleeve.

The first words my brain can comprehend are Skylar Parish, written in bold letters on the line titled Respondent.

“What the fuck is this?” I sneer.

“Legal documents, revealing your boyfriend as a convict,” he explains smugly.

“C-convict?”

“Just read the damn papers, Everett.”

But I can’t. They’re impossible to understand with all of the legal jargon, and my eyes are beginning to water.

I wipe at them quickly, flipping to a page with words that make more sense. Under Allegations, there is a typed paragraph:

On or about Wednesday, August 17th, at approximately 3:58 p.m., Respondent [Skylar Parish] and Victim [Jerome Tailor] were located on the premises of Sinclair Public High School, 3574 Sinclair Ave. Without consent or provocation, Respondent repeatedly struck Victim in the face, stomach, and skull with closed fists, causing the Victim to fall unconscious. While Victim was unconscious, Respondent continued to strike Victim, despite his inability to retaliate or retreat. As a direct result of the Respondent’s unlawful conduct, Victim suffered severe injuries, including but not limited to a broken nose, two fractured ribs, and severe brain trauma.

I flip back to the first page, finally bothering to read more than just Skylar’s name. It’s a petition to have a juvenile appear in court, accused of aggravated assault. His parents’ full names and even his address are listed.

“Read the back page,” Ash suggests. “It’s the best part.”

My heart is beating so loudly that I barely hear him, flipping to the back page as a cold sweat trails down my spine. It appears to be the resolution to the charge, in which the Parishs covered all medical charges, a fee for emotional damage, and Skylar was required to complete mandatory counseling for the case to be dismissed.

I set the paperwork down, my head reeling in a way that is making me nauseous.

“Do you know what it means?” Ash asks.

“N-no. I don’t.” I refuse to.

“It means that Skylar nearly killed a kid on school property and then was forced into anger management. It means that, though this case was dismissed, it wasn’t sealed. If it gets sent to his future employer, they will likely release him from his duty.”

My eyes snap up to meet his, and I nearly choke on the words as I shout, “What are you implying?!”

“I’m not implying. I’m telling you that if you do not leave, I will make sure this charge follows him for the rest of his life,” Ash replies simply.

“What is your problem? You’d ruin someone’s life because I like a guy?” I’m panting, having jumped from my chair to confront him.

Ash remains composed, giving me an annoyed look. “I would ruin his life for ruining yours, yes.”

“But he hasn’t—”

“I did not raise you to like men. When I adopted you, I set expectations that you were meant to follow. Then you met that boy, and suddenly you’re someone else. I will not be known as the father of a queer, and I will not support this. This town is too small for you to remain here, for your sinful deeds not to affect me. If you will not listen and settle down as you’re meant to, then you will leave.”

I can feel the tears rising as I whisper, “You’re kicking me out of this entire state, blackmailing me, and disowning me?”

Ash nods. “I am. You will leave tonight, and you will not come back. Leave your cellphone—it’s on my plan, anyway.”

“But he was just a kid,” I manage to say. “He was just angry after being bullied so much, and I know him. He would never—”

“The boy he beat up was in a coma for days. He almost died, Everett.”

“No,” I breathe out, stumbling back a step. “You’re lying. I… No.”

I know Skylar. He may be a vicious little snake when he wants to be, but he wouldn’t try to kill someone. He’s a good man—trustworthy and reliable. If he were truly evil, I’d know.

After all these years, after all the time I’ve spent with him coiled so tightly around my neck, I would know if he intended to squeeze.