The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

Since my friends were AWOL and Violet was still in class, the first person to hear my news would be Mom. As I stared up at the roach-infested building with the shitty plumbing, that felt exactly right.

I stepped into our place cautiously, the knot in my stomach tightening into fear.

Coming home shouldn’t feel like this.

Because it wasn’t home. It was shelter only and not even our own anymore. At least when we’d lived in the car, it was ours.

Mom was sitting on the couch watching a game show. The coffee table was littered with garbage, beer cans, and overflowing ashtrays. Mom looked gray, as if the ash in the apartment had settled over her as well.

Not ash, dust.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, moving to sit beside her. She was only forty-two years old, but the last five years had aged her a lifetime. Her dark hair streaked with strands of gray, hung limply around her shoulders, and lines gathered at the corners of her eyes. All of it, Dad’s fault.

Fuck him and Chet, both.

Mom smiled tiredly. “Hi, baby. How was school? You’re home early, aren’t you?”

I glanced around. The place was quiet but for the TV, and our lone bathroom door was open, showing it was empty. “Where’s Chet?”

“Went fishing in Capitola with some buddies. Won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Good.” I sat down on the couch and surprised her by taking her hand in mine. “I’m going to get us out of here, Mom.”

She gave me an indulgent look. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious. Something happened today. Something big and I…” My words cut off as I spied a bruise on Mom’s forearm. Several bruises in the shape of fingers. A man’s fingers. “Mom…what the fuck is this?”

She withdrew her hand and pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, even though it was at least eighty-five degrees in our AC-less shithole. “It’s nothing. Tell me about this something big.”

“Chet did that, didn’t he?”

“Let it be, Miller. It’s not a big deal—”

“When?” I seethed. “When did he do this?”

“The other night. I don’t remember. I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Has it happened before?”

“No,” she said, and her stern tone told me it was the truth. “It was one time.”

One time was too many. I ground my teeth. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt her, and I hadn’t been there to protect her. I’d been at the Shack or at Violet’s. I let this happen.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m going to fix it, I promise.”

“You’re a good boy. But there’s nothing to fix.”

“There is. We can dump his ass on the street. I’ll toss his shit right now—”

Mom grabbed my arm with surprising strength and sat me back down. “No, Miller. You leave it alone. We need his disability. I can’t keep on like I have been. My back is getting worse, and I can’t go back to working two jobs. I just can’t.”

“You won’t have to.” I swallowed hard and inhaled a breath. “A record executive in Los Angeles wants to meet with me. I’m going to make him give me a deal on the spot and an advance. You won’t have to worry, okay? You won’t need Chet anymore.” Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked hard. My voice turned gruff. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

She smiled gently. Her hand, rough and calloused from work, touched my cheek. “Okay, baby. I’m tired. Going to take a nap. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry. Just make sure you save some for Chet. He’ll be hungry when he gets back.”

Except I couldn’t eat pizza. Too hard to calibrate with my insulin since the carb release lasted hours. Something Mom already knew.

She retreated to her bedroom—their bedroom now—and closed the door. My heart clenched. She was so beat down, she didn’t believe a way out was possible, even when she heard it.