Page 30 of Black Waters

Chapter Seven

Brothers

My dad waited impatiently outside the locked black iron gates. My mom let out a pitiful cry. “Ted—”

My dad yelled, “She’s passing out.”

I pulled her limp body closer to mine. Feeling internally shredded, I said, “He still wants her, Dad.”

Clutching and rattling the gates preventing him from reaching us, my dad watched behind me. “Don’t let her go, Reether.”

I turned to see Mr. Thompson standing there.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” My father screamed from behind me.

This was it. The moment of truth. Was I enough to save the gracious woman in my arms? Mr. Thompson was strong enough to make me see stars with one punch, and he had armed men with him to back up his demands. It was clear who the dominant male was. Physical strength would not see me through. So I had only one hope. All I could do to keep my mother from the devil was to say, “Please,” and hope to hell he had an ounce of mercy for me.

Slowly, he raised his hand, and I thought he was going to shoot us both. He pushed a button on a remote. The gates slid open.

Tears dripped from my chin. “Thank you.”

My biological father said nothing in return.

Shaking, my dad grabbed my mom from me, carefully observing his ex-friend. “Go to the car. Hurry.”

“I had her first.” Mr. Thompson sounded jealous.

I spun and looked at him, thinking of Crash and me… with Whit.

Not willing to turn his back on Harold, my dad kept backing away, carrying my unconscious mom through the opening without saying a word. The tension in the air was so thick it choked me.

“Kept an important detail from me?” Harold took a step forward.

Dad was almost to his car. “Thought it was best.” Without looking at me, he said, “Do as you’re told.”

I opened the passenger door and got in but wouldn’t shut the door till Dad made it to the driver’s side.

“She was mine first.”

My dad nodded as he managed to open his door, never releasing my mom. “She’s happy, Harry. Deep down, you wanted this for her.” He waited.

Harold inhaled slowly. Then exhaled. He and his scary minions walked away.

Dad blew out air then gently laid Mom in the backseat, asking me, “Are you unharmed?”

“I’m okay.” I closed my door. “But—Crash. He’s my—”

“Why do you think we stayed quiet and never went to the police? Crash would’ve been dead before we left the station, and that would have killed your mother.” He placed a blanket over her. He suddenly grabbed my face between the two front seats. “You. Are. My. Son.”

I nodded, half in shock and half in relief to be back with the man who had cared for me all my life and still wanted me to be his.

Back at home, we put my drained mother in her bed. She was back where she belonged, but her face kept wincing in her sleep. I hadn’t understood the love a mother has inside her until I witnessed he being eaten alive when her child was in danger. My father and I sat in chairs in his master suite, watching her restless sleep.

The frothy green décor reminded me of an ocean. Maybe my mother had picked the colors because she felt she was in a sea of emotions she couldn’t voice. The antique clock chimed. It was two a.m. I thought of Whitney, hoping she slept in her bed, unaware of all that circled her. Crash had been right: we should’ve told her.

Just then, a text came through: She’s sleeping.

My head fell forward as I exhaled my relief. “Uh, Dad, I’m gonna hit the hay.”