Chapter 4 Tigerlily
Chapter Four: Tigerlily
I’m staring at the door.
The pounding shakes the entire frame.
Zinnia’s holding onto me so tight I can barely breathe, but I hug her back anyway. My phone’s in pieces on the floor. He threw it against the wall, shattering the screen. My entire life just exploded in front of me. My apps. My photos. My homework. Gone.
I don’t have iCloud to back it up. We’re too poor for that.
“Zinnia!” Dad shouts through the door.
I pull back from her and look at the window. We need to get out of here. The pounding gets louder. Harder. I walk over and unlock the latch.
“What are you doing, Lily?”
I meant what I said earlier. No. I’m done with this. I’m over it. I need space. I need air to breathe.
“I don’t want to find out what happens when he opens the door. Come on,” I say, pushing the window open. It’s an old house, so the window makes a loud creak.
“Zinnia!” Dad’s voice shifts. “Honey! Open the door!”
Honey. That’s his bargaining voice. The one that comes right before he breaks something. Or someone.
Zinnia looks at the door, then at me.
“Come on.” I hold out my hand.
I jump out first. My bare feet hit freezing grass. The cold shoots up my legs.
Zinnia walks to the window and hesitates.
“We’ll come back when he’s not mad,” I say.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She takes my hand, and it feels like a promise to have her on my side. I help her through the window, and she lands next to me. I slowly and quietly shut the window behind us.
Dad’s still screaming. Threats I tune out because we’re outside now, and it’s freezing, and my sister doesn’t have shoes.
Neither do I.
I look toward the street. That’s too obvious. He’ll find us right away.
Then I see a shadow.
A tall one standing against my neighbor’s fence.
I jump, pulling Zinnia behind me. Is that our neighbor? I blink a few times to focus on my eyes.
The shadow waves one hand and presses a finger to his lips with the other.
No, not my neighbor.
Wait.
My heart lurches.
Number 39?
What the fuck is he doing at my house?
I grab Zinnia’s hand and whisper, “It’s okay.”
“You know him?” she asks.
I press a finger to my mouth.
Dad’s kicking the door now. Heavy thuds that rattle the whole room behind us.
We walk towards the hockey player cautiously. He’s no longer in his jersey, but his lip is still swollen, his face bruised.
He’s like an angel in disguise. I didn’t know what I’d do once I got out of the bedroom. I don’t have a phone anymore. We don’t have shoes. Right now, number 39 is a God send.
I look up at him, unable to register his face features. It’s too unfamiliar. I have no idea who he is or why he’s helping me.
He points left and walks.
We follow him.
Zinnia starts whimpering once we cut the corner. We’re stepping on rocks and sticks along the fence line. I squeeze her hand, trying to keep her quiet.
Number 39 looks down at Zinnia’s feet. Then he crouches and picks her up on his back.
She looks at me, terrified.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what’s happening, but we need to move fast. She gets on his back.
When his eyes meet mine, I try my hardest to thank him in a nod.
But his eyes travel down to my feet and notice I’m barefoot too.
He kicks off his shoes and offers them to me without a word.
Then he walks, so I have no choice but to put them on.
As they slide on my feet, the warmth contrasts with my frozen toes. And the simple act of this tiny gesture makes me feel warm. I catch up to him, his shoes awfully big on my feet.
We sneak past my neighbor’s house. Then the next one. Not every yard has a fence, so we move fast through the gaps.
Once we’re past the last house, he sets her down and opens a car door.
Another guy’s in the driver’s seat, looking at me. Another face I don’t know.
I hesitate.
“Get in.” His voice is deep. Steady. It sends a zing through my body.
This isn’t a fever dream.
He’s actually here. I look down at his socks, then my feet. And I’m really wearing his shoes.
“Did you follow me home?” I whisper.
“Lily! Zinni!” Dad’s voice cuts through the night.
Shit. He’s in the backyard.
I push Zinnia into the car and climb in after her. Number 39 shuts the door and gets in the passenger seat.
The driver takes off on the road.
I look through the back window, wondering if my dad saw us. But he’s not there. It’s a dead street, quiet. Relief floods through me.
Zinnia grabs my hand and then buckles her seatbelt with the other.
I hold her hand tight. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
She whispers, “Who are they?”
Number 39 looks back at us and turns toward Zinnia.
“My name is Jax. What’s your name?”
She looks at me, then at him.
“My name is Zinnia,” she says shyly.
Jax looks at me, taking me in. I stare back, not knowing why he’s staring.
“And your name?” he asks.
Zinnia turns to me. “He doesn’t know your name?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “My name’s Tigerlily.”
Jax nods once. “This is Zeff.”
“Zeff?” Zinnia questions.
The driver glances at us in the rearview mirror. “Short for Zephyr.”
“Where are you taking us?” Zinnia asks.
Jax looks at me briefly. Then faces forward.
“Just to our place until your dad cools off. Is that alright with you?”
Zinnia nods.
I squeeze her hand.
Then I look forward and try to breathe.
The drive is quiet.
Zinnia leans against me with her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and pull her close.
We’ve always had each other. Even when Mom left. Even when Dad got worse. It’s been me and her against the world. She’s the only person I trust completely. The only person who has my back.
She whispers against my shoulder. “You really don’t know them?”
“I promise I’ve never met them before.”
“Then how—”
I whisper, “I don’t know.”
But I do. Kind of.
He clearly followed us home.
I don’t know if that’s a red flag. Maybe, but I can’t call it bad, not when my entire body is still shaking from how terrified I was to face my dad.
After a while, Zephyr pulls into a driveway. A house with a garage. Small. Single-story. Normal.
Jax and Zephyr both get out and open our doors.
I look at Zephyr as I step out, thanking him. He’s watching me carefully with his curious brown eyes. Something about the way he looks at me makes my stomach flip. But I look away and follow Jax toward the front door.
The house on the inside is normal. A black couch, a coffee table, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.
Jax gestures to the couch, so Zinnia and I sit.
Zephyr brings us two glasses of water and sets them on the coffee table.
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” Jax says. “First door on the left.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Zephyr turns on the TV. A cartoon for Zinnia fills the silence.
But it’s awkward. Tense.
Jax and Zephyr stand near the kitchen. Not hovering. Just there.
Jax clears his throat. “You can stay as long as you need. We have an extra bedroom.”
Zephyr says, “It’s an office with a bed.”
“Thank you.” I pause. “I don’t think we’ll stay.”
Jax looks at Zephyr. Then back at me.
“You want to go back home tonight?”
I nod.
But even as I nod, my gut is screaming at me not to.
Dad will be waiting, and he’ll be angrier than before. He’ll have had time to work himself up. To decide what he’s going to do to me.
And now he knows about Jax. Number 39. The boy I swore I didn’t know.
He’ll think I lied.
He’ll make me pay for it.
Maybe he’ll go after Jax too. Show up at his house. The University. The hockey rink. A hockey game. Wherever he can find him.
My chest tightens.
Zinnia curls into my side, and I wrap my arm around her.
The TV plays Despicable Me, and I’m thankful for the Minions. They’re lightening the mood. I find myself smiling despite the pure dread coursing through me.
Jax and Zephyr move to the other side of the room, giving us space. But I can feel them watching. Not in a creepy way. More like they’re waiting.
I touch my pocket—
Right. No phone.
I look at Jax. “Can I borrow your phone?”
He walks over and hands it to me without question.
I open the browser and search the UCLA hockey team.
The roster loads. Faces. Names. Numbers.
Number 39. Jax Kingsway. Right wing. Whatever that means.
There’s a photo of him in full gear. Dark eyes staring down the camera.
He looks handsome in this photo. I can only imagine what Dad would think if he saw this photo.
He would definitely think I “opened my legs” to a guy like him.
I glance over my shoulder, stealing a peek at Jax.
He’s already looking at me with an unreadable expression.
I turn back to his phone and realize I’m holding the one thing he always has on him. Everyone’s phones have some secret passage to them, and I wonder what Jax’s is. I hold it in my palm, ignoring the feeling that he somehow trusts me. How can he trust me if he doesn’t know me?
I keep scrolling and find the coach’s name. His contact info is right here. Great.
This is the first thing Dad’s going to do, and then he’s going to destroy him.
“Researching me, Tigerlily?”
I jump. Jax is right behind the couch. Looking over my shoulder.
I swallow, feeling my pulse kick up. I don’t normally talk to boys. I’ve never been boy crazy. Boys never looked at me like that. They keep their distance from me, and honestly, I like it that way. I have enough testosterone in my life.
I clear my throat. “Uh––I think this is going to be the first thing my dad’s going to do.” I turn my head to look at him. “And then he’s going to call your coach.”
Jax looks straight into my eyes. I want to run away and hide. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. And then his gaze drops to my lips.
My breath catches.
And for a second, I forget about my dad, about going home, and about everything except the way he’s looking at me.
“Let me see,” he says, asking for his phone back.
I hand it to him and gaze forward at the TV.
After a moment of silence, Jax shows me the phone. It’s the picture of him. “Yeah, he’ll have a heart attack when he sees my face.”
I stare at the screen, knowing that he’s right, but not sure what point he’s trying to make.
He pulls the phone back and says, “I think you should stay here tonight. I can take you home before the sun rises.”
Zinnia clings tighter to me.
I face the TV again, not knowing what I want to do.
All I know is that it would just be easier if I didn’t have to deal with my dad.
Despicable Me is over. Zinnia is asleep on my shoulder. I’m staring at the commercials, wondering what my dad is doing. He must be driving up and down the street. Maybe he went to the police.
Jax walks over and sits next to me. His weight makes the cushion tilt, so my body slightly falls into his direction. I keep watching the TV, even though I feel him staring at me.
“I can take you home––”
“No,” I say quickly. The more I think about going home, the more I’m afraid that my dad’s going to strangle me like he does sometimes.
“Do you want to take Zinnia home?” he asks gently.
I look at her legs then. They’re leaning against me and the thought of taking her home makes guilt swim in my gut.
I swallow the lump in my throat, staring forward, “He doesn’t hit her.”
Jax is quiet. Zephyr is sitting at the kitchen table.
I sigh. “So, we should take her home.”
Jax stands and pulls Zinnia into his chest. She’s out cold, so she doesn’t wake up at all.
“She’s only ten years old,” I murmur. “My dad started hitting me when I was fourteen.”
Jax stares down at me, and I don’t think he feels one ounce of pity for me. Not with that face, and somehow that makes me feel better.
We walk to the car in the driveway. Zephyr watches from the table, and I meet his eyes right before I’m out the door. He’s unreadable, too.
Jax drives through the night. When we’re close to my house, I wake Zinnia up.
“We’re going home,” I whisper.
She stirs, not waking up.
I look at Jax and whisper, “Please wait for me.”
He nods. “I will.”
I gulp down my pride and shake my sister awake.
A few minutes later, we’re in the freezing cold night, walking barefoot on the sidewalk.
We walk into my quiet house where my dad is nowhere to be found.
I tuck Zinnia into her bed, and then I rush into my bedroom, close the window, and gather everything I need for everyday life––clothes, school stuff, soap, anything I can quickly grab.
I walk out of the house with a few bags full of things. My heart crawling up my throat, afraid my dad’s going to pop around the corner and make me pay.
I walk down the sidewalk and back to Jax. He’s waiting right where I left him, leaning against his car. Relief floods me when I’m back.
“You waited.”
He looks at my bags. “You’re moving in.”
I hide my smile, letting him grab a few bags from me.
When we get back to his house, Zephyr isn’t in the living room or kitchen.
I follow Jax down the hall, and he shows me the guest bedroom.
It’s cold and boring-looking. It doesn’t look used very often.
Jax places my things on the wall near the desk, so I put the bag I’m holding next to them.
I stand awkwardly, thankful for how this night unfolded.
“Thank you,” I whisper as he walks out.
He nods and closes the door.
I lie in the bed, trying to get comfortable in the unknown, and close my eyes.
My dad would literally kill me if he knew I was here.