“Stop cursing,” Mom says. I drop my sleeve and peer through the crack in the door again. She is looking at Dad with sympathy now. She’s always there for him. “You’ll figure it out, Peter. You always do.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad murmurs with a sigh. “But goddamn it!” The muscle in his jaw twitches as he spins around, slamming his fist down against the countertop. I haven’t seen him this furious in a while. He leans back against the counter, his head hung low, rubbing his temples and exhaling deeply.
Mom walks over to him and wraps her arms around his back, burying her face into his chest as though to offer him some comfort and reassurance. “You’re just stressed. Relax,” she whispers, tilting her chin up and pressing her lips to the corner of his jaw. She kisses his mouth too.
Yeah, I figured he was stressed two hours ago when he came home late from work and stormed into my room. He didn’t like that I was watching TV, even though I’d done all of my homework.
“I should probably catch a flight up there tomorrow to figure out how much of a mess Evan has left me with,” Dad says with a groan. He rests his arms over Mom’s shoulders and pulls her in closer against him, looking down at her with an apologetic smile. “Will you manage with the kids on your own? If not, I can ask my parents to watch them after school in the afternoons until you get out of the office. Is that okay? I don’t have to go if you don’t want me to. I can manage it over phone calls.”
“I don’t have any court appearances until Monday, so I’ll just work on my cases here. I’ll take care of everything,” Mom reassures him. “Go to Seattle, Peter.”
Dad heaves a sigh of relief and presses his forehead down against Mom’s, cupping her jaw in his hands and weaving his fingers into her hair. The smile he gives her is full of warmth and gratitude. “You’re my lifesaver,” he murmurs, and just as he is about to kiss her, his eyes dart over her shoulder and his gaze lands on me. He abruptly leans back from Mom, but doesn’t let go of her. “Tyler,” he says, raising his voice. His tone is hard; his features harder. “You should be asleep. Go back upstairs and get to bed.”
Mom cranes her neck to look back at me, and despite the smile she gives me, I think even she’s annoyed at the interruption. I can hear the strain in her voice when she asks, “What’s up, Tyler?”
They’ve spotted me now. I can’t turn and run at this point, so I push open the kitchen door further and take a single step into the room. Dad is glaring at me, so I focus only on Mom. “I’m . . . I’m thirsty,” I lie. My throat is dry, sure, but not because I need a drink. “Can I get some water? With ice, please.”
“Sure,” Mom says, and she pulls away from Dad’s embrace and walks over to the sink.
The kitchen falls into a tense silence as Mom fetches a glass and turns on the faucet. Dad is still leaning back against the countertop, gripping the edge of it with both hands, and his eyes are fixed on me. With Mom’s back turned, I can see him looking me up and down, searching for his mistakes. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, I reach for the sleeve of my T-shirt again and try to pull it down lower. I drop my eyes to the floor, listening to the sound of the faucet running, and then the crushing of ice from the ice machine that’s built into our refrigerator.
“Here you go,” Mom says, walking back over to me. She slides the glass into my hand and raises an eyebrow at me with a small nod. “Now goodnight, Tyler. You’ve got school in the morning.” She kisses my forehead and I turn around, water in hand, and leave the kitchen. I can’t look at Dad again before I walk out, and I even pull the door closed again behind me, leaving that same small crack.
I take a few steps down the hall then come to a halt. Before it can melt, I stick my hand into the glass of water and grab some of the ice. It’s freezing cold and it numbs my fingertips, but I’m desperate. I glance back over my shoulder one last time before I head upstairs. Mom is against Dad again, her arms around his neck, his mouth against hers, his hands on her hips. They stumble. I close my eyes and turn away, and as I make my way back upstairs to my room, I pull back my sleeve and press the ice against the fresh bruises on my arm that Dad’s fingers have left behind.
20
PRESENT DAY
“Shit!” I yell out, and I slam my hand down hard against the giant “H” in aggravation. It stings my palm, but I’m too panicked to care. I pull on the ends of my hair, completely frustrated. “How the hell do they always get out here so fast?”
“Don’t trip!” Tiffani calls out. Right now, it is everyone for themselves, and she slips her hand into mine and begins pulling me with her as she takes off. And, despite how steep Mount Lee actually is, it is so much quicker to just run through all of the shrubs and dirt rather than heading back to the trails. It’s dangerous, but right now, our safety is the least of my worries.
I can’t afford to get caught. I’ve been arrested and cited for trespassing before. With all of the shit I’m about to get myself involved in with Declan Portwood, I need to keep myself off the cops’ radar as best I can. They don’t need to be aware of me.
“Oh my God, my mom will kill me if I get a citation!” Tiffani panics, her breathing all over the place. We are still hand in hand as I lead the way down, testing out the ground first as quickly as I can while she follows. There are random dips, random holes. It’s so easy to roll over an ankle up here, and as much as Tiffani annoys me, I don’t want her to get hurt.
We are in a race against time to get back down to the ground before the cops have a cruiser there waiting for us. That’s why we don’t wait for the others. I can hear them all a few hundred feet behind us. I can hear Rachael and Meghan shrieking every few seconds, and I can hear them all calling out to one another, but I don’t turn around.
I’m totally relieved when Tiffani and I finally reach the ground again without any injuries and without any cruisers in sight. It still doesn’t mean we’re in the clear, though. Out of breath, we force ourselves to keep running back to the small parking lot where we left the cars, and I begin fumbling in my pockets for my keys. I can still hear that damn helicopter above us.
“Let’s just get out of here,” I murmur, unlocking my car. I hop inside and Tiffani slides into my passenger seat. The others will understand why we’ve left without them. I know I should probably wait for Eden to take her home, but I can’t risk it. I’m sure the others will give her a ride.
“Yeah,” Tiffani agrees, then places her hand on my thigh. “Let’s go back to my place.”
* * *
We do go back to Tiffani’s place, but only to drop her off. She slams my door and calls me an asshole again as she leaves, furious at the rejection, then storms into her house, all the while swinging her hips and flicking her hair as though to show me what I’m missing. But I’m seriously not in the mood. Today has been weird.
By the time I do get back home, it’s almost dark and Mom and Dave are watching TV together in the living room. I stand in the hall in silence for a few minutes, deliberating whether or not I’m going to even speak to them, and I decide that, after everything that has happened today, I should at least have the decency to let them know I’m home. It’s not like I want to infuriate them. I just sort of . . . do. So if I get the chance to actually be tolerable, then I’ll take it.
I knock on the glass panels of the living room door and gently push it open. Both Mom and Dave glance over at me, almost like they’re surprised I’m actually home before midnight for once, and then mute the TV.
“I’m home,” I say quietly. I even throw in a smile. I know Mom was disappointed earlier, so I want to make it up to her.
“Where were you?” she asks. She keeps her voice equally as soft, as though we’ve made an unspoken agreement to forget about what happened earlier.
“With Tiffani,” I say. It’s not a lie. More like an omission of the truth. As if I’m going to tell them we all almost just got arrested for trespassing our way to the Hollywood sign.
“Where’s Eden?” Dave joins in, and although his voice is s
till pretty abrupt, it’s not as gruff as it usually is. He also looks slightly concerned.
“She’s with Rachael,” I guess. Again, definitely not telling him that his daughter just ran from the cops. I’m pretty sure she’ll be home any second anyway. I notice the empty food containers on the coffee table and I raise an eyebrow. “You ordered Chinese food?”
“Your mom burned the steaks,” Dave says, and he wiggles his eyebrows at Mom, who blushes in embarrassment. Usually, she’s a pretty amazing cook.
“Great!” I drawl sarcastically. “So that cow died for nothing!”
Mom’s face falls. “Tyler . . .”
“I’m kidding!” I say, holding up my hands as I let out a laugh. God, I can’t even make one of my vegetarian jokes without them thinking I’m about to burst into a fit of rage. It’s kind of sad, actually. Have I really gotten to the point where people just expect me to be aggressive all the time?
“Tyler!” I hear Jamie say as he comes bounding down the stairs. He slides across the hall floor in his socks and bumps straight into me. He grins wide and looks up at me with his blue eyes that are identical to Mom’s. “You’re home. Good. I need you to come play Madden with me because Chase honestly sucks.”
“He’ll be trying his best, Jay,” Mom says.
“No, he’s not,” Jamie argues, groaning. “Even you could play better than him, Mom! Now c’mon, Tyler.” He grabs my arm and begins yanking me toward the staircase, but before I disappear out of sight completely, I flash Mom a smirk, rolling my eyes as Jamie continues to tug at me. She smiles, probably just glad to see me relatively at ease for once.
I follow Jamie upstairs and into his room at the end of the hall. Chase is sitting cross-legged on the floor in his pajamas, waiting patiently, and Madden NFL is paused on the TV.
“Move over,” Jamie orders, nudging him with his knee. “Tyler’s taking your place.”
“What? Why?” Chase asks, widening his eyes. All of the lights are off, so the glare from the TV screen is the only light source in the room and it reflects in his blue eyes. Both of my brothers got Mom’s blond hair and blue eyes. For some reason, I was the only one to inherit Dad’s Hispanic genes in my looks, so I always look a little out of place in this family now that Dad’s gone.
“Because you suck,” Jamie says.
“I don’t!” Chase huffs, but he throws the PlayStation controller down anyway and reluctantly shuffles over to make room for me.
It’s funny. The three of us are all so different. I’m the fucked-up one, the angry one. Jamie is the smart one, the perfectionist. Chase is the innocent one, the people-pleaser. They’re only fourteen and eleven, but I already know they’re going to be way better men than I’ll ever be.
I sit down next to Chase on the floor, leaning back against Jamie’s bed and stretching out my legs in front of me. I grab the controller. “Sorry, buddy, but the pro has arrived,” I tease. And, to make it more dramatic, I crack all of my fingers and then my neck. “Ready, Jay?”
“Ready,” he says from atop the bed. He takes the game off pause and it kicks into action, picking up mid-gameplay, and I stare at the screen while I try to figure out which team I’m playing for. Yeah, Chase really is trailing behind. He’s scored nothing. Nothing.
I haven’t played in years. When I was their age, I used to play Madden with Dean and Jake. All. The. Damn. Time. Not anymore. Now I spend my free time ruining my life. That’s why I suck at the game to begin with too until I get into the groove of it, and Jamie insults me the entire time while Chase fidgets next to me, glued to the screen. We do laugh a lot, though, and I wish I did this more often. Man, I love the pair of them, but I’ve usually got so much going on in my life that I don’t ever make the time to actually hang out with them. But they’re happy and carefree, and I could really use some of that positive energy that they radiate.
“Boooom!” Jamie says, tossing his controller to the floor and raising his arms into the air as he makes the final touchdown and the game ends. There was absolutely no way to salvage the damage that Chase had already done, so of course he was going to win. “You see that, Tyler? Huh? Now who’s the pro?”
“Not you,” Chase mumbles, folding his arms across his chest. He’s sulking, but I’m cracking up. It’s a damn game!
“What did you say?” Jamie growls playfully, and he launches himself off the bed at Chase, wrestling him. They roll around on the floor next to me for a minute or so, pushing each other around and laughing, both trying to get on top of the other. I watch them in amusement, laughing along with them and rolling my eyes.
If there is one thing that I am absolutely thankful for, it’s that Dad never, ever laid a hand on either of them. I would have taken triple the amount of abuse if it meant they would never get hurt the way I did. I don’t think I would have been able to bear that. They were so young. I look at Chase now, out of breath as he gives up in defeat and pushes Jamie off him. He’s so young, so childish and pure. There is no way anyone could ever hurt him. He’s only eleven.
But I was eleven too once . . . and the cuts and the bruises didn’t stop until I was twelve.
I was young too. I didn’t deserve it. I was just a kid. I was just like them.
How could Dad have looked at me, like I am looking at Jamie and Chase now, and even consider the thought of hurting me?
Chase doesn’t know about Dad. The truth would hurt him, and he doesn’t need to know that our father is a monster. Mom couldn’t protect me and she couldn’t protect Jamie, but she wants to protect Chase. He is so much better off believing that Dad is in prison for grand theft auto. That’s what most people think anyway. But Jamie knows the truth. Jamie discovered it. Jamie stopped me from nearly being killed five years ago. We never talk about it, though. I think it scares him.
“Can you guys promise me something?” I say, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. The room goes silent. I stand up and turn on the lights, and then I sit down on Jamie’s bed and look down at them on the floor. I’m not laughing anymore. My expression is serious.
“What?” they both say in unison, staring back up at me with curious, wide eyes.
“Don’t do anything stupid when you’re my age. Okay?” I say. Unlike me, they actually have a shot at a decent life. A shot at a college, a good job, healthy relationships . . . a shot at being happy. I really don’t want them to mess that up. They have the head start that I didn’t. “I don’t want to see either of you getting into trouble.”
They stare at me blankly, and then Jamie gives me a goofy grin and asks, “So what stupid stuff is it that you do?”
I laugh and lean forward, ruffling his shaggy hair. “You think I’m gonna tell you?”
“I’m hoping you will, and then I can blackmail you into buying me Madden 12 in August,” he says, and his grin widens.
“How about,” I say, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet, “I just give you some cash toward it right now? Don’t tell Mom.” I’m feeling generous because they’ve put me in a good mood, so I grab thirty bucks and hand it to Jamie as his eyes light up in disbelief.
“Hey!” Chase says. “What about me?”
Damn. I pass him twenty, and luckily, he doesn’t notice that I’ve fleeced him. Fifty bucks is a small price to pay to see the pair of them grinning as though they’ve won the damn lottery. I shove my wallet back into my jeans and stand up, tell them goodnight, and then leave the room.
I’m crossing back over to my own room when, as I’m passing the stairs, I notice Eden running up them at full throttle. She just got home? She was only a few minutes behind Tiffani and I when we left the Sunset Ranch. She should have been home ages ago.
“Eden?” I stare down at her, wondering where she’s been, because she clearly didn’t come straight home. “Where the hell did you go?”
She freezes on the stairs for a split second and fires back, “Where the hell did you go?” She walks up the last few stairs and stops in front of me. She’s much smaller than I
am, but she holds a mean stare-off. “You just ditched the rest of us. Nice teamwork.”
Shit, so she is mad at me. But for what? For the way I snapped at her in the car? For the way I squared up to Jake? I’ve done a lot of things that could have potentially pissed her off today, and I groan at the thought of them. “I don’t work well with cops, alright? I can’t get caught again.”
“Again,” Eden repeats, scoffing. Yet another con of mine to add to her list: gets arrested. “When did you get home?”
“Twenty minutes ago,” I say. “Mom finally stopped grilling me about the whole beach thing earlier.”
“Cool,” she says with absolutely zero emotion. As though I’ve disappeared into thin air, she strolls straight past me and walks into her room. I wasn’t done talking to her, so I aimlessly follow. She runs her eyes over me and deeply inhales. “What do you want?”
I don’t know. To figure out why she’s mad at me, I guess. “Nothing,” I say, and then look at the floor. God, what the hell is wrong with me? I should get out of her room. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to me. Feeling embarrassed, I quickly turn around and walk next door to my own room.
“What was your problem with Jake?” I hear Eden ask, and when I look over my shoulder, she has followed me this time. Her arms are folded across her chest and her stance is confident as she stares at me, an eyebrow raised as she awaits an answer. “I asked you a question,” she says.
“I’m not answering it,” I say. Is my room even tidy? I glance around. No, of course it’s fucking not. I didn’t make my bed this morning. There’s beer on my bedside table. There’s pairs of my boxers lying by my bathroom door. I need to distract her from noticing, so I grit my teeth and turn around to face her. “Wait, I will. That guy is the second-biggest asshole I’ve ever met. Don’t waste your time. He’ll screw you over.”
“Who’s the first? Yourself?” she quips, and I wish she wasn’t being sarcastic, because the first is Dad. My own blood.