Brock made the biggest sundaes, and I never ate all of it, but he always finished mine.
We settled on the sofa, flipped on the television and watchedJurassic Park. I fell asleep, but woke, when I heard the door slam shut.
“Goddamn it,” his dad roared.
“It’ll be alright,” his mom said.
There was a sound right before his mom cried out. I tensed because he’d just hit her. Brock took my hand. “We got to go,” he whispered, pulling me from the sofa to the French doors that led out back. We slipped outside and ran, not stopping until we were at our fort.
“I’m sorry,” Brock said.
“For what?”
“Them.”
“He hit her,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Does he hit you, too?”
He looked away from me, but I knew he did. I suspected that was what had brought Brock into my life that first day. “Brock.” I tugged on his arm; he reluctantly turned his gaze back on me. “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
“The Caribbean. Working salvage, diving wrecks,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, and a cottage on the beach. What about you?”
“Wyoming or Colorado. Some place with wide-open spaces. A cabin, maybe a horse or two.”
“That sounds nice too.”
“Maybe we do both,” I suggested.
His hand tightened on mine. “Yeah, we can do that.”
I was doinghomework when I heard pebbles hitting my window. My heart sank because that was our signal. Pulling my boots on and grabbing the kit stored under my bed, I hurried from my room, down the stairs and out of the house through the woods to our fort. He turned to me. Tears rolled down my cheeks. His father hit him. Not anywhere visible, but there was pain in his eyes. I wanted to hit his father.
I ran right to him and threw my arms around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to pull me close. “I hate him,” I said. “I fucking hate him.”
“Me too.”
I stepped back. “Where?”
He lifted his shirt, and there was a big nasty bruise forming and several scratches that were bleeding. Tears burned my eyes. “Sit.”
He grinned, but he sat. I spent the next half an hour cleaning his wounds.
“Whenever you’re ready to run away, just say the word,” I said.
He grabbed my hand, my gaze lifted to his. “Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, but he wouldn’t take that. “Answer me, Cedar.”