Chapter 2
The gentle breeze cools the stream of tears against my cheeks as I lean back against the roof.
It’s against the rules to be up here but what can I do?
Going back down means getting my ass beat by Jayce’s friends.
Not that anyone has friends in a place like this.
It’s only survival. Being out of the pack only makes them turn on you, so I stay out of their way.
Especially when Jayce tells them to keep me out while he’s gone.
The sunset casts orange and pink streaks across the sky. I take a long drag of the joint that Alli bought me. She tries to buy me things with her allowance money from the Campbells but knows better than to give me cash. It would get snatched the moment I got back here.
Down below I see a red convertible Volkswagen beetle pull up to the curb.
The top is down revealing a bandana tied over curls and painted red lips.
Jayce glances up and I swear there’s a smug look on his face when he reaches over from the passenger seat to cup Emalyn’s face. He kisses her. It’s not chaste.
More like he’s trying to mark his territory.
I shouldn’t care. She’s made it clear over the last year that she only wants to be friends.
Even if I want so much more than that. If she wants to be just friends, I’ll be the best damn one she ever has.
Good friends run off shitty boyfriends, right?
And because I can’t leave well enough alone, I make my way down the side of the building.
Casually humming as I stride towards them.
Jayce, ever the freak, looks over at me without breaking their kiss.
His eyes light up with recognition and challenge. Fucker.
Emalyn starts to pull back but he slides a hand into her hair, gripping her curls tight and tilts her head back. I see red.
Two more strides and I’m gripping the back of his shirt and pulling him out of the car.
I don’t open the door. No, I yank him out over the top.
He scrambles out, feet searching for purchase.
Jayce is taller than me and has at least twenty pounds on me, but my fury outmatches him today.
My right hook lands on his jaw, spit and blood mix as they spray through the air.
“What the fuck?” He shouts and spits more blood onto the pavement. I swing again. It lands on his eye, splitting his brow and my knuckles.
The image of him grabbing her that way and the wince on her face set my chest on fire. “She doesn’t like it.”
“Oh and you know what she likes?” Jayce laughs in my face, white teeth painted red on display. Then, he starts swinging back. It’s not the first time I’ve been his punching bag. I duck the first punch. Take the second on the nose. Shit, that hurt.
“I think you’re getting weaker, Jay.” I say purposefully using the nickname he hates.
The one I heard his older brother call him.
I hear Emalyn screaming at him to stop along with some string of curses in Spanish.
Her shoe flies through the air, hitting him in the back of the head.
When she tries to open her door to get out, I kick it shut with my foot, not wanting her to get injured in the scuffle.
It costs me. Jayce gets the upper hand when I lose my footing.
He gets me on the ground and starts to kick.
Later I'm sitting in the front room of the boys home, clutching the bag of ice that Emalyn got me on my ribs. I continue pretending I didn’t get the shit kicked out of me while a man in a suit talks to Mrs. Brocker.
She’s the one who runs this place. Doesn’t do a very good job, in my opinion but no one wants to hear that.
Just like they don’t want to hear that more than half the kids in here need therapy so they stop taking their rage out on each other.
They talk about me like I'm not here. Something about hockey and a billet family for my future. Unable to take anymore, I slipped out the side door. I make my way down to the red building with the dimly lit sign flashing Sandy’s Happy Donuts.
It’s the only 24 hour donut shop around here. Probably everywhere. I sink down into the black leather booth. Less than a minute later, Sandy comes out. A pink striped apron tied around her. Her gray hair is tied into a knot at the back of her head.
“Oh, Ronan. What on earth happened to you?” She gasps, setting the glass of chocolate milk on the table and sits across from me. I tell her everything. Her hand squeezes mine on the table, reassuring me a billet family will be a good thing.
“Wish I could stay here. Near Alli… Emalyn… and you.” I shrug ignoring the heat that flushes my cheeks. I often imagined Sandy was my grandma. I know it wasn’t true, but she always listened.
“I know, sweet boy. But getting you out of that home is the best move for you.” She leans back with a sigh. “This place probably won’t be here much longer anyways— sales are way down. I think I’ll be moving back to Washington with my family. I’ll be happier knowing you were taken care of. Safe.”
“Well if it was up to me, I’d keep this place open.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Do NHL goalies even eat donuts?” Sandy ruffles my hair and slides the chocolate milk closer.