Dream Keeper (Dream Team 4)

“Because you didn’t ask,” she shot back.

“This isn’t on me,” I stated firmly.

“You’re right, it isn’t. Not entirely.”

“Not at all,” I returned.

“But whatever.” She tossed a hand in the air. “I was stuck there, and shit was getting real with Clyde and him adding the crazy to his already pretty fucking crazy of telling the men to build their ‘flocks.’ And we can just say, not a one of them hesitated and said, ‘Whoa, Clyde. Bigamy? Have you lost your mind?’”

I bet they didn’t.

Saffron kept going.

“They were all in and Dad was all in and Mom was devastated, because she’d already had to share him once, seeing as it was his idea that they could have sex with whoever they wanted when they were hippies. But what he meant was he could, she couldn’t. She did a couple of times, and he lost it with her. So, just in case you were wondering, he started beating her down mentally before Clyde entered the picture. But he glommed on real quick when he found a way to brainwash her into him having a reason to treat her like shit, convince her she lived to serve, and break her motherfucking soul.”

Okay, hip, with-it Saffron had a mouth on her.

And she was obviously closer to Mom than I thought.

I glanced at Birch.

He was watching Saffron, his face tight, lips thin.

“So Dad’s always been a dick,” I whispered.

“Yeah, Pepper.” Birch entered the conversation, turning to me. “Dad has always been a massive, goddamn dick.”

“Birch…” I said his name, but didn’t know what else to say.

He knew what to say.

“This thing with those flocks of wives isn’t new. It was just, back then, it was kept from the women. Clyde has been on about that with the men for years. And Dad was grooming you. And Christ, Pep, he was so pissed when you wouldn’t come to heel. But you were lucky. To serve your purpose, you had to be untouched.”

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

“Me?” he asked. “The boy who didn’t cow to the lion of the house? Shit was different. My lessons were a fuckuva lot harder than yours.”

My voice was small and beaten when I asked, “What’d he do to you?”

Birch turned, reached between his shoulder blades, and yanked up his long-sleeved t-shirt.

And I saw, along his back, there were a number of distinct, lengthy scars. Before he turned again, I’d counted four of them.

But there were more.

Lottie emitted a sorrowful tone.

I was going to throw up.

Birch spoke.

“He liked his belt. He owned only one. I bet you didn’t know that. Didn’t notice. I did. Because he wore it all the time. It got to the point, I’d see him wearing that belt, and I swear to fuck, I’d nearly piss my own damned pants.”

God, I hated this.

Hated it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

“Because he told me not to?” he asked back, but it wasn’t a question. “Seriously, there was shit he told me not to do that I did not do. He’d keep me out of school for days after he strapped me, so I wouldn’t walk awkward and folks wouldn’t notice. He told me to fake the flu. I don’t even think Mom knew. I had to change my own bloody sheets. After he was through with me, I did that too. I did anything he told me to do. But most of his warnings involved you and Saff. He said you’d get the same, if I opened my mouth to the two of you.”

So he protected us, my big brother.

Or he thought he did.

I took in a deep breath, and on the exhale said, “Okay, this is a lot. I hate it for you. I can’t even say how much I hate it. I want to hear it. I need to hear it. Anything you feel you need to share with me. But I don’t understand why me and my friend have to be tied to the floor while you share it.”

“Because you got your man to look into us,” Birch bit out and swung an arm to indicate Saffron and Hottie Jon. “All of us.”

“Oh shit,” Lottie muttered.

“And for your information,” Birch went on, “I’ve fucked up a lot in my life. I’m not proud of it. Far from it. And yeah, things got physical with my last wife, her to me, and it sucks to admit, but because she was whaling on me, me to her too. I’m the least proud of that. I’d give anything to take back that time I didn’t keep my shit when Leslie was all over me. But I don’t beat women, Pep.”

I was reeling about all that was coming at me.

But in that moment, mostly I wasn’t a fan of him saying he “didn’t keep his shit” with his wife.

“Did you hurt her?” I asked.

“No,” he spat.