“Teeny’s finally lost his shit,” she replied, and for once her voice was sober and somewhat focused. “I think he’s going to hurt me.”
“Mom, he’s been beating the crap out of you for years. What’s changed?”
“No, those were just little arguments,” she said, brushing me off. “Marriage is hard. You’ll learn that someday, if you ever manage to find yourself a man. No, this is different. He’s been really angry and upset, and he pulled out his gun last night and held it to my head for an hour. His eyes were awful, Becca. Like a devil’s eyes. He says I’ve been cheating on him and now I’m going to pay.”
My chest tightened.
“Mom, you need to get out of there.”
“I know,” she replied, her voice a tense whisper. “He just got home. I’ll try to call later. I need money, baby. Money to leave him. If I don’t get out I’m dead.”
Then she hung up the phone.
My head started to sway and I felt dizzy.
“You okay?” asked Caitlyn, one of my classmates. Apparently she’d caught the tail end of my phone call. I looked up to find her face full of exaggerated concern, a newly lit cigarette dangling forgotten in her fingers.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. Great. Now everyone would be up in my shit, because Caitlyn was the biggest gossip in the whole damned school.
“Do you want to talk?” she asked, her voice oozing sympathy. “People say I’m great at listening.”
And repeating.
“It’s okay, really,” I told her. “Don’t worry about it. I need to get back inside.”
—
It wasn’t okay, though.
My brain was too restless. I decided to bug out of school early, so I gathered my stuff and walked over to the coffee hut. Caffeine might not solve my problems, but it probably wouldn’t make them any worse. I bought a drink and a muffin for dinner, because I’m healthy like that, then found a place to sit on the side of the building.
Teeny. God, I hated that man. He’d gone after Mom with a bat once—I’d been little enough to hide behind the couch that time. Another time she’d turned the bat on him, which was great right up to the point where he pulled his gun and made her beg him not to shoot her.
I’d watched that one from underneath the table.
Now I couldn’t get the image out of my head. For years I’d been terrified of him, but I’d learned from Regina and Earl not to let fear rule my life. Would he really do it?
Impossible to know.
She needed to get out of there. Maybe I should call her back . . .
“There’s a hot guy out here looking for you,” Caitlyn gasped, running around the corner. “He’s all dark and scary and fuckable. There’s this amazing scar on his face. It looks exactly like the kind of scar you’d get fighting pirates. Please tell me you’re screwing that beautiful man—I’ll lose all respect for you if you aren’t.”
“No, he’s just my ride,” I said, rising to my feet. I swatted my butt to get any dirt or sticks off. Caitlyn scowled at me, then smiled suddenly. Poor dear, she really wasn’t very bright. Her little brain moved slowly, telegraphing every thought right onto her face.
“Introduce us?”
“I really have to go,” I replied, trying not to roll my eyes as I walked around the corner. Sure enough, Puck was waiting, looking grumpy as ever.
For an instant I considered just turning around and taking off. I’d hide behind the school, make Danielle come and get me.
Get over yourself.
Okay, so I was going to pull my shit together and act like a grown-up, starting with an apology for being rude to him this morning. Did he make me uncomfortable? Yes. Had he been rude? Definitely. But he’d also rescued me on the side of the road and traditionally that calls for graceful tolerance and a pleasant thank-you.
Not like he had to stop in the first place, right?
Moving quickly, I crossed the lot to his truck before the girls standing around smoking had the chance to start with the questions about him. They’d try to get his information out of me tomorrow—we did enjoy our gossip at the school—but I’d worry about that when it happened.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, climbing up into the truck. My eyes took him in and I felt a wave of lust hit me. Beautiful. That’s what Caitlyn called him, and I was tempted to agree, but it wasn’t really the truth. He was too rugged and scarred to be beautiful. She’d hit it just right with “fuckable,” though.
He grunted, turning up the radio in the universal signal to shut up, so shut up I did. We merged onto the freeway and started out of town in silence. Not a pleasant, comfortable silence. This was strange and uncomfortable, with every line of his body radiating tension that made me nervous. Was he about to snap?
I’d grown up around bikers so I knew better than to ask him about his day or why he was so obviously not a happy camper. He wouldn’t tell me and I didn’t want to know anyway. Okay, I did want to know but I shouldn’t. Even so, by the time we’d turned off and started up along the river I couldn’t take the silent treatment any longer. I had to say something.
Keep it friendly. Break the tension and let him know you’re ready to move on.
“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?”
He didn’t respond, and I bit my lip, stealing a look at him. God, he was good-looking. Not traditionally handsome—nope, between the scar and the broken nose, that ship had sailed. And he wasn’t cute, either. Way too terrifying to be cute.