Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2)

“Yeah, something. What gives?”

“Nothing. Seriously.”

I stare at him for a moment, knowing he’s not telling me the truth. I see the anguish on his face—I just don’t know what it means. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

I turn to leave, not wanting to stand there like an idiot.

I’m at the door when he says quietly, “What if he’d really been hurt?”

“George?” I glance back.

“Yes. What if George had been seriously injured? He was unconscious for fifteen minutes. It’s not his first concussion.” His voice trembles a little. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

I don’t know if he wants it, but I walk behind the counter. He’s still staring at the computer and I reach over and shut it. His eyes snap up to mine and I see the worry and fear.

“He’s all I’ve got, Starlee. My mom is gone. My dad,” he grimaces, “well, you saw him. He’s a complete dick.”

“Hey.” I wrap my fingers in his shirt and pull him to me. “You’re not alone. Your brother is fine and you have Sierra and Dex and Jake. You’ve got Leelee and obviously me.”

He stares down at me, eyes watery. “Do I?”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“What if my dad gets his way and messes things up for Sierra? What if George breaks his fucking neck next time?” He swallows and says in a quiet voice, “What if you leave again?”

His words hit like a punch in the gut. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that, Starlee. You left before and everything kind of…you know this is why I have this.” He reaches for his phone, which lights up with a dozen notifications from his online activities. “I don’t have to worry about anything but winning in there. I turn it on and there’s someone to play with—someone who can’t walk away.”

His confession is heartbreakingly raw. I’ve still got my clutches on him and I have no intention of letting him go. “I know better than anyone how scary the real world can be, Charlie. Do you know how terrified I was to come here the first time, much less the second? What if I got here and you’d all moved on?”

He shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? I gave up everything to come here. My mother. My home. All that security, but it was worth it to be out here with you. To take on something scary.”

“Every day for the last five years has felt scary,

Starlee. Every. Fucking. Day.” He wipes under his eye. “Those social workers could come in here at any minute. My dad…god, he just showed up.”

I take a deep breath and force him to look me in the eye. “So, we’re both scared. And we’re both holding on at times by a thread. But we’re doing it together. In the real world.”

“I fucking hate the real world,” he mumbles.

I cup the back of his neck and pull him down so our faces are an inch apart. “You’re not alone, Charlie Evans.”

He nods, a tear escaping.

“We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay.”

I kiss him, tasting the salt from his tears, and I pray that he’s really with me. It’s a struggle I don’t understand—his desire to escape into a world of his own—but now that I know his fear, what he’s most afraid of, maybe me and the others can help him stay with us.

27

Starlee

“Starlee,” George calls.